Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A funeral. A celebration or final goodbye of the end of someone’s life. 

On a chilly January evening in Tokyo, a small Shinto temple’s doors are open to an unrealistic amount of people and traditional myrrh incense marries the air throughout the space. If someone were to look across the sparsely filled room, naively sorrowful or knowingly indifferent expressions all dressed in black can be seen among the majority. 

A slim young man dressed in a contrasting burgundy red resides at the very far back of the room. As the last family member, or at least the last one that desired to show up, finishes praying among the flowers and portrait of the deceased, a silence of thick tension replaces them. The reserved man tucks back a loose strand of obsidian hair behind his ear and waits a moment to observe the room, memorizing its details, before quietly rising up from his seat with a sigh. 

He keeps his head down as he saunters down the aisle, respectfully declining empty hugs from clingy neighbors and brushing past other mysterious attendees. From their perspectives, it looks as though he is deeply mourning in silence. It seems as though he is in an honorable daze of sadness or shock. With dull eyes that hardly blink or linger too long on something, it’s almost like his face is of a doll. Pitifully, they say their condolences and make their way to the exit; their good deed of the day seemingly done.

But on the contrary, he is just avoiding everyone from seeing the satisfied grin plastered across his face.

⠂⠂⠂

‘Furukawa Takemichi’ was the name of the mysterious boy that the, now dead, man graciously took in and raised as his own pseudo-nephew, after claiming to find him homeless on the streets of the red district. 

As the man purred to all that would listen, seeing a child splotched in grim and overlooked by the excitable crowd had weakened his heart, forcing him to give in to his kind nature and consider the boy.

Furukawa Hanuji, his adoptive ‘uncle’, was a 110 operator who worked unusual hours, but provided for his mismatched nephew the best he could. He enrolled him in online school and funded the boy’s eccentric interest in painting.

What A Load Of Shit

Furukawa Haru was not gracious, 

he did not provide, 

did not work as an 110 operator, 

and was never an ‘uncle” to Takemichi. 

He was Takemichi’s kidnapper, his mental abuser, his handler . 

Takemichi had never recognized a happy feeling associated with Hanuji. He was either left alone or extorted; that was how it always worked between them. But the town that he had grown up in now didn’t need to know that! They didn’t need to know what could throw them off their own little joyous paths of life.

After all, two can keep a secret if one of them is dead. 

The knowledge that the man that had tormented Takemichi throughout his life was dead and his corpse lies cold without earthly claim of anything, certainly overjoyed Takemichi. At the end of one’s life, it felt like another’s had just started. 

With only a few pointed sad expressions and whiny begging towards the right  people, Takemichi was foolishly entrusted with all the disgusting man’s assets and possessions from the community that only saw him as a grieving boy. All it took was a slight tear falling from under his opaque glasses and they had folded to his efforts. Looking back on it now, he supposes that for as worthless as Hanuji was, he had provided now at least. 

The house that was his cage was sold, and the money used to pay off six months of rent for an apartment far away from this city he rarely ever saw. All his ‘uncle’s’ savings and payments were split and transferred into his Furukawa nephew account and his true identity’s bank account without a trace with a little help from a skilled accountant.

Only half an hour left of the pesky funeral and then a life of no restrictions would finally be his!

The smile on his face was closely associated with a cat that got the cream as he finally lifted his head and stood opposite to the motionless face of his abductor.

“Hello, you bastard…” He starts, already sighing in his sermon.

“I almost wish that you had died a little later, so you could hear me now,” Takemichi’s smile transformed into a smirk as he chided.

“I wish that I could rub this in your face more. It’s been a long time coming, but I’ve been patient… 

Y’know, all the tears and grieving that I have seen today, you don’t even deserve it. I haven’t cried. I don’t mourn. The only mercy I can give you now, is to allow your pathetic life story to be buried with you and for you to be forgotten.

And when I see you in hell later on, I hope I don’t even recognize your name.” He finishes cheerfully, incautiously reaching out and picking off a white lily flower from the presentation before turning and walking out of the temple without luster. 

The air outside bites his fair skin as it breezes past and a hidden layer of electricity can be felt throughout. Walking past an alley, he tosses the flower inside into a dark filthy corner that Takemichi will no longer be afraid of.

He rearranges his red reefer coat over himself; dressed in a cream colored long sleeved shirt, black embroidered sweatpants, and monochrome dress shoes. During his time as a Furukawa, he had never let anyone cut his hair since he was kidnapped, as a reminder of his rebellion and origin. This resulted in waist-length wavy hair which is mostly inky black, but piss blonde at the ends. 

There’s a belief that hair holds memories for a person. Well, as painful as life has been for him, Takemichi never wants to forget what he used to be like and who he used to know. His memory prolonged and manifested.

Today it was styled into two puffy braids and then curled into a loose bun, the yellow tips hidden inside.

⠂⠂⠂

Outside of the small community that knew the uncle and nephew Furukawa family, reality was much darker than any of the grannies could imagine in gossip hour. 

Takemichi was born into a family of absent parents who worked abroad, but made sure to send home money each month so he could sustain himself. These were the perfect circumstances for anyone to kidnap a vulnerable boy and only leave behind a small group of friends that would expectantly forget about him in due time. 

Why he was kidnapped is a much much harsher and world breaking reality… Takemichi was born with a gift, or more accurately for him, a curse. The gift of divine eyesight that extends beyond the limits of time itself. Associated with the occurrence of godly intervention and destiny, in short, he is able to look into the past or future with whosoever’s hand he shakes. This special ability overflows with implications of possibilities and its value is like no other in anyone’s right mind.

Having seen countless futures upon the discovery of his power, Takemichi understood this more than anyone else. He had kept his power a secret for years, but after one fateful accident that he had not bothered to see beforehand, it was discovered by the most unfortunate people. 

Yakuza. 

After just a little slip up, it didn’t take long for the knowledge of his ability to climb the social hierarchy of popular crime organizations and the orders executed to abduct and conform him into a glorified fortune teller for whoever could pay enough. The price was set very high, but the reward was always sickeningly ‘good’ for the sinners that sought him out. Hell, sometimes he would be hugged by yakuza in their priceless suits and overcompensating cologne. When a person has so much power, money, and fame, it seems that paranoia comes after all of them. The fear of what could possibly happen to their fortunes or lifes gripped their cold shriveled hearts hard, steering them to seek the answer. An answer only one special person could provide. 

Takemichi was special to the underground world.

His power would allow him to act as a ghost in whatever time period he went to, bound to watch and not intervene. After he had witnessed what he needed to, present time would return, the client would get the information they desired and venture on to try to change their fate… Rinse and Repeat… 

But of course, his handler was not a fool, he didn’t trust Takemichi to tell the truth at the beginning of their ‘partnership’. However, carefully produced threats to not himself, but others, were strong enough for him to be honest in these sessions.As he gained unfortunate popularity, the repetition of the sessions embedded into Takemichi and he grew to not care about whether he had the opportunity to lie. The lives he had seen were rarely pretty and how they ended were always worse than anything he could plan himself for these people.

They were cruel, but beautifully deserved endings that even if the doomed person had tried to stop it, all that happened were diversions to either a worse fate or opportunities for redemption. Theoretically, the future was able to be changed, but Takemichi knew best that time and destiny worked uniquely. 

Working just as uniquely now to align the new beginning for Takemichi. Now as he breaks away and gains control of his own life, Takemichi can only hope that for once, his future will be quiet and peaceful.

Hopefully this twist in his story will follow a straight path… but when does time ever behave? Even if it is their chosen boy…  who has now settled into a cafe booth in the library a block down from the temple, nursing a warm matcha latte. He’s taken a moment to finally relax in his new life and drags his eyes around the room. From under black opaque glasses, his sapphire akin eyes musingly lingering on the taiyaki in the cafe’s display case…

Staring, he curtly tilts his head to the side in thought. “Hmm.”

Chapter Text

On a purposefully quiet and clear night, Hanagaki Takemichi had collapsed into his bed from tiredness. After coming home from a Toman meeting and showering away the day’s tensions from his muscles, all Takemichi wanted was to lay down and stay down. 

The meeting hadn’t been hard or anything, it was just a simple debrief and re-welcoming into the gang for Baji-san and Kazutora following their previous Bloody Halloween. A time when Takemichi had gone against his own rules and fear to risk looking into the future and saving both of the troubled teens from their fight with Mikey-kun. Personally tasked with the mission to save the gang’s co-founders, Takemichi didn’t have an option to back down. 

He knows that he shouldn’t change time, fearing for the consequences that come from the meddling, but how could he not when he experienced Mikey’s apprehensive desire to just get two of his old friends back… to see their smiles and banter like they used to… Takemichi’s resolve had hardened; non-refundable actions taken.

In the end, the Tokyo Manji Gang had their 1st Division Captain back and his savior was left with a branding knife wound on his torso. A reminder of what he had risked for them. A diversion for Takemichi to believe that the wound had been his consequence and nothing else was to come to him.

Oh, how stupid he was!

After he was lulled asleep by the exhaustion in his bones, the sound of his door being unlocked was not heard by his ears. His skin, battered and bruised in recovery, did not recognize a small sharp pinch of a needle to his neck. Rough rope tied around his wrists and ankles greatly contrasted the soft pistachio colored pajamas he wore, as did the casually moving van that weaved through void streets and was never to be seen again. 

By either the sleep-inducing drugs he was given or his own slumber, Takemichi stayed unconscious till the afternoon; acutely unaware of the numerous concerned messages on his long abandoned phone and the caution tape that now surrounded his family’s house, after a neighbor reported his disappearance when he did not show up for their staple breakfast together. Punished for saving lifes that were owed to death, Hanagaki Takemichi was officially declared a missing person and thrust into fulfilling the debt that he accumulated from time itself.

As the news of his disappearance spread, countless motorcycles flooded the streets all across the Tokyo prefecture. Despite the poor circumstances, it’s a revolutionary time as gangs from all relations come together to look for their legendary Crybaby Hero. Uniforms of red break open any rundown buildings they see, uniforms of white seek out information from surrounding businesses, and uniforms of black and gold voice out the desire of their search all across Japan. But it is the ones who had no time to put on uniforms that upturn everything above the ground in Takemichi’s now bustling neighborhood. 

Perched upon the vacant room’s bed, Mikey sits hunched over in terrifying silence. His hands are drawn together to press against his lips. If they were anywhere else then something would have been broken beyond compare; most preferably the heads or spines of the people who were responsible for taking away his one light in life. 

With so many dark voices being spoken into his mind and the crippling anxiety of trying to keep the people he cares about in his orbit, there was only a single thing– a single person who had kept him going in the hard times that they have already passed. 

It truly amazes him to think that Mikey had been able to even function in the past without having met his Mitchy yet. The unique kindness that the boy possesses touched everyone’s hearts and his untailored determination inspired them even more in their own ambitions. His determination could also be ruled as idiotic stubbornness that only ever focused on the others around instead of himself. Unsurprisingly, these are also the reasons that Takemitchy was Mikey’s first love. His only love.

But now he was gone; and, whatever darkness that Mikey had feared most and tried to fight, had adapted and strengthened into the only thing left that Mikey possessed. His knuckles had started to turn white in their hold, his eyes dulled, his resolve hardened far past what even diamonds can reach. 

He would get his Mitchy back.  

By the highest peak of the sun, a drugged asleep boy sneezes while he lays still in his pajamas, swathed in spans of comforters. 

A door to the room Takemichi was laid in slams open against a wall, startling the delirious boy to snap open his eyes, frantically looking for the distruption’s source. Shuffling back against the headboard of the silk bed he was placed upon as best as he could with the daze of drugs in his system, his image looks akin to one of a deer who had just been thrown into an icy lake. His heart almost beats out of his chest and their vision becomes overloaded by his rapid analysis of the surroundings. Already, tears have started to prick at the corners of his eyes.

This is clearly not his barren room that resides in his shell of a home in Tokyo. The room’s walls seemed to stretch infinitely up to a cathedral-like ceiling that arches into a single star shape. The walls are a faint cornflower blue and gold star details can be seen gradually dispersing from the ceiling down. Turning left of where he sits on the bed, the wall indents to create another smaller space. It’s designed as though it is a restaurant booth, but decorated similarly to a tea room with seat cushions and a singular low table.

A warm glow of light fills the entire room from above, which allows him to see minimal furniture placed around that is as regal as the rest of the room he is currently in. As Takemichi still admires the theme of his surroundings, movement from the corner of his eye centers him back to his dilemma. 

“D-Don’t come closer!” Takemichi shouts, as he turns his whole body to face the man who had just woken him up.

The man that had loudly slammed the door stands paused in front of the bed, gazing at the other with a blank expression on his face. Takemichi noticed that the dark haired man was wearing a fitted suit accompanied by an embroidered vest that probably cost more than what he could ever make in his whole life. The seemingly older man had a choppy buzzcut of dyed auburn hair and a band of tattoos stretching his forearms. 

The ‘Vest Man’, which Takemichi had now dubbed him, raised both of his hands seemingly in an attempt to hopefully calm down the frightened boy. 

“Don’t be so loud now. I’m not even allowed to hurt you,” Vest Man spoke as if Takemichi was not supposed to be freaked out by waking up with a strange man barging in. 

Taekmichi huffs, still breathing heavily, “where am I..?”

“I’m not going to tell you.”

“...”

“...”

“..why not?”

“It’s not worth your time.”

“Look please… I don’t have anything of worth to you! I- uh, I don’t have any debt from anyone, please! J-just let me go back where I live…”

“Wrong about that first part. You live here now, and I advise that you get settled in quickly, because it’s not going to change anytime soon,” the man chuckles carefree.

“W-what if I escape?” Takemichi challenges, frustrated by the tone that the man uses against him to make it seem like all the information is obvious. 

“ Why don’t you look into the future and see? ” The man crosses the room in a flash, leaning impossibly close to his face. He bores his eyes into what could very much be his soul and uproots the blood veins from the inside.

Takemichi’s rapid breathing had seized all together at once. The delicate facade that he had built his whole life around had been chipped with him saving Baji and Kzautora’s lives, the spider cracking had spread constantly afterwards, just enough to let people of interest see in between the lines, and now it had all broken apart… 

A pair of tears had run down his cheeks, as his fate for the next ten years finally registered in his mind. This wondrous room for most would now be a bargaining chip for his ‘good behavior’ and his exclusive cage. The once heavy chain strapped to his right ankle would soon be accustomed to, barely noticeable after a year had passed. The taunts of feeling pointless, constant fatigue, spoiled bouts of anger, and suicidal ideation would now forever be his future. 

The ‘Vest Man’ or more correctly, Furukawa Hanuji, had guided him back under the covers of the lush bed. His act of ‘caring’ for the boy filled a promise of another day where ‘he would learn to embrace the generous life he had now been given by the Kurugiza yakuza.’

If anything , Takemichi was going to pluck his teeth out as many times as it took for sharp enough ones to grow back and allow him to bite through their throats. 

Chapter Text

It had now been a week since the funeral. His red coat is left on a hook by the door and his lengthy hair has been let down from his bun. Still braided, it sways loosely behind the quiet 25 year old standing in the middle of their new living room. After hours of labor, Takemichi looks around his freshly unpacked apartment. He didn’t have many belongings, so the most that there was were a few cooking utensils, plates, his clothing, and a radio softly playing Laufey in the background. A perfect blank slate for himself. 

His old room had been furnished with priceless textiles and works of craftsmanship, but none of those belonged in his new life that he was building for himself. Takemichi would now try to keep a quiet life with no close friends, but a friendly enough reputation. He didn’t need to hurt more people than he already had, but he couldn’t be an outsider. Maybe he should get a cat? That would be enough company, he supposes. Nosy kids and gossipy grandmas love to see undisturbing neighbors with cats. 

Now, while he did have the option of going back to his family’s home, Hanagaki Takemichi had been missing for 10 years and his case had run cold. There was probably nothing left for him there, but only pesky questions that he most definitely could not lie his way out of… so he would remain Furukawa Takemichi, but with a new meaning. Inside of being a preserved seed in a farmer’s pocket, the seed has finally fallen and is able to flourish its delicate petals in the shining of sun rays.

Now that he thinks about it, there should be a flower shop down the block. Maybe a golden pothos or simple orchid would help lighten up his home? Some actual bedding and food in his fridge would also do some good. Man, he already has a giant list of things he has to do and this is not helping…

Takemichi sighs, one of his hands on a hip, “Guess I can check the neighborhood out as I start to look for furniture. I should get at least a sofa and a few blankets for the first couple nights…” 

Walking out the door, he grabs his key and puts back on his jacket as he rushes down his building’s stairs leading to the street’s sidewalk. He continues walking up the concrete path and eyeing all the shops in curiosity. After just a few minutes, he can already feel the curious eyes of the locals follow his unfamiliar form. Adjusting his jacket tighter around himself, his walk is not interrupted. 

A bold lavender colored door of a shop comes into view through his walk and beckons him inside. As it turns out, it was a local treasure thrift store. He’s not in a rush, so why not? Grandma Hanagaki had taught him to always reuse and recycle anything with the small amount of time she was with him. Whether it be food or objects, they were used to their fullest potential and then maybe given to others to do the same. 

Takemichi takes his time strolling down the aisles and racks in the shop. After 15 minutes had passed, he now had a cart full of different things for his new home. Things like a thoroughly loved rug, lamp, and a light fern colored bed set. It’s honestly astonishing the things that he’s found, but he guesses that is what happens when a nice cozy neighborhood doesn’t get many new people to pillage their shops. 

Pushing his overflowing cart down another aisle and starting to pick through everything, he suddenly spotted a mug that seemed to have been blessed by all gods from any religion and could easily send a kimchi mom’s daughter into a possessive rage… It’s nothing like he has ever seen. It’s everything he ever needs. A vintage strawberry cat mug. 

As Takemichi outstretches his hand to obtain his destined mug, he pauses as another hand awkwardly brushes his towards the same mug. Eyes widening, head snapping to the direction of who the hand belongs to, a young woman who looks to maybe be slightly older than him makes fierce eye contact back with the ravenette. 

Looking at her closer, she wears her hair shoulder length with longer front strands of halo hair, mocha brown cargo pants, and a white halter top on. Totally, a kimchi mom’s daughter! And also someone who he had overheard talking to the shop’s cashier earlier. As fast as he realizes she is a local, she realizes he was the new neighbor in town. 

“Oh hey! You’re the new person from Apartment 161, right?” she says, both their hands lowering, but not enough to declare the mug forgotten. 

“U-uh… yeah, that’s me” Takemichi seriously blames his social awkwardness on the past ten years of isolation from everyone except grubbly old men. 

“Nice! Well, how do you like the neighborhood so far? I promise it will be a lot better when people get to know you better!”

“Oh, no worries! I’m quite reserved myself. Everything is already nice enough, I mean, the thrift shop is amazing! I honestly can’t imagine ever letting any of these things go,” Takemichi chimed, hoping to seem normal for his first conversation with someone that didn’t have alternative motives. 

The lady chuckles and leans in to whisper to him, “I know what you mean. Samikuru-sama, one of the bakers here, doesn’t have any grandchildren to claim any of her or the bakery’s old decor, so she usually donates it all. She’s the shop's best donor…. and my wallet’s worst enemy!”

Her laugh infects Takemichi and they both find each other chuckling together. Soon enough, Takemichi can actually sense himself relaxing a bit with the other’s outward trusting behavior. 

“So what’s your name? I’m Akiyama Umeko, but everyone just calls me ‘Ume’.”

“I’m F-furukawa Takemichi, please just call me Takemichi too.” He smiles

“Awesome! Well, as a gift, you can take the mug. Think of it as my welcoming gift?” Ume now somehow has the mug and carefully hands it over to him, “If you ever want to talk again, you can most likely find me working at the convenience store!”

Takemichi mutters a ‘thank you’ as Ume disappears from the aisle and leaves him standing there. After a moment of silence and Takemichi rearranging his cart to make sure the mug sits safe, his stomach growls and he takes that as a sign for him to finally pay.

As the number of ideas decreased from inside his cart, the zero places on the cashier’s screen nauseously increased. If this had been any other ‘legally earned’ money then Takemichi was sure he’d faint. Bidding the cashier a good day, he walked back to his apartment to drop off the numerous bags decorated on his arms and then headed back outside again. 

Takemichi then quickly made his way to a grocery store nearby. The sun was already setting by now and he definitely did not want to get stuck carrying bags in the dark of an unfamiliar place.

Grabbing a basket and tiredly roaming even more aisles now, he picked up simple ingredients to make his meals for the next week or so. Vegetables, sauces, meat, dumplings, tofu, soup bases, potato chips, cheap beer, and candy all dug into his generous budget for the month. He wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t have anything.

Quickly checking out and spying the dusk sky outside the store’s windows that reluctantly told him how he’d have to sprint home if he wanted to stay in the little light left. With arms full of his precious, precious food (potato chips)? No shot…

A sigh escapes Takemichi’s frown as he steps into the cooling night. The plastic grocery bags dig into his arms as they weigh him down the whole way back, giving him a characteristic limp. Wary around all backways and corners, Takemichi doesn’t run into any trouble until about two thirds of the way home. 

Midway through walking the farthest away from an alley entrance, his ears pick up on a pained grunt echoing further down. The noise is so soft that Takemichi almost rules it as a mistake by his ears… Pausing in his steps, he cautiously turns to peer towards the noise. A shiver goes down his back as the alley descends into darkness, the groves of the brick ground flowing with a mysterious liquid.

“Oh hell no.” he brazenly says as he holds his bags closer to his body and hurries home faster. Although his heart had turned sore from his earlier apathetic fleeing by the time he locked his door behind himself, Takemichi believes that he would’ve just caused more trouble with what he’s worth. Who knows what kind of hoodlums and thugs could be out right now.

Breathing a new breath of home air, he unpacks his groceries into his fridge and cabinets, also arranging his new items from the thrift into the dishwasher or off to the side to get washing properly. He makes a small batch of miso soup for dinner, something light. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, his old life with Furukawa had acclimated him to the tastes of the wealthy. The divine meals, which they forced him to eat, and the expensive toiletries he was provided were truly missed. Daily tea platters were given to him during his ‘consultations’. On his scheduled shower days in the past, they would provide him with various loofahs, lotions, shampoos, and conditioners. Now all he had was a singular washcloth and his basic necessities. 

Yet he kept his same faint scent of refreshing lilies and oranges. His raven hair was long, but the bleached tips remained damaged from the gel that practically melted into his hair during middle school. But! At least his life was turning more normal; well, as normal as it can be with his anxiety. 

With warm food in his stomach and impurities off his delicate skin easing his distressed mind from earlier, Takemichi goes to sleep on a makeshift mattress of bedding on his floor easily. His breathing slows and his body heat starts to puddle around him, lulling him away. Drifting to sleep, he hopes that he will have a good dream tonight. Temporarily forgotten about and completely unaware of the happenings from deep inside the previous alley…

Chapter Text

In a degrading narrow passageway, a black haired man with an undercut hangs his head as they try to muffle their groaning of pain from his efforts to rest his back on the alley’s back wall. Every jostle is more or so annoyingly painful. Eventually, he finds himself as comfortable as he could be while hiding in an unfamiliar deadend with a fresh stab wound. 

He grimaces as his suit’s slick glossy splotches of blood continue to grow. Tearing a strip of material from his untucked dress shirt, he ties the material on the deep gash tightly to lessen the blood and stalking infection. The business man silently curses through the pain, like the feeling is familiar but still unwelcomed. 

With not being in immediate danger of bleeding out anymore, he fumbles to grab his phone from his suit jacket’s pocket. Shaky fingers leave small marks of blood across the phone’s screen as he clicks to call one of his four contacts. Raising the phone to his ear; it doesn’t take even two rings for the call to be picked up.

“Chifuyu?”

“Hey ‘Tora-san, can you please get Mitsuya to clean up a mess in uh– House 288, Morioki Dori Street?”

“...I’ve let him know. What’d you actually call me for?”

Chifuyu chuckles a bit at how fast the other caught on. He ignores the question for the moment, grunting accidentally as he shuffles his body a little farther into the alley as a shadowy silhouette appears at the entrance. Holding his breath, Chifuyu really really doesn’t want to deal with any more blood tonight. Luckily, they quickly move away and go back to their own business. 

“Chifuyu?! Are you injured?” Ah, now he sounds a bit angry…

“H-heh, a guy managed to stick a pocket knife into my side. I’m gonna need Baji-san to pick me up”, looking down to see streaks of his own crimson blood decorating his current spot, “...and some baby wipes.” 

“Tsk, I already sent him to get you. You should be more careful, Chifuyu.” Now soft?

“I know… Thank you ‘Tora-san”

Hanging up the call, it only takes a few minutes until a bright light pores into the alleyway he is in. Chifuyu has to hold an arm up to his eyes so he doesn’t get blinded. A figure gets off the bike and walks towards him. It’s their long hair that is recognized first.

“Damn, I really expected to find you keeled over from what Kazutora told me!” Baji-san exclaims as he grasps a hand on his injured vice-president, pulling them back up. They both walk over to his bike as Baji has Chifuyu’s arm now on his shoulders, grumbling all the while in false annoyance. Throwing the other to lean on his bike, he walks back to poorly wipe up some of the spilled blood on brick.

“Why’d you even go to that job? It’s just some small shit that executives don’t need to handle!”

Chifuyu stays silent, looking at the ground in deep thought for a bit. Noticing this, he’s set down on the bike’s seat for a moment to rest. 

“...I just— I felt him. It’s like he was close or something…”

“ Him , huh.”

“...”

“Did you find anything?”

“...No” Chifuyu grimaces. He can recognize his partner from anywhere; even after so many years. He’s convinced that they are getting close. Just, how close? It frustrates him to no end. Lost in his thoughts, Chifuyu startles as Baji is now leaning on the bike next to him, offering an arm over his shoulders.

The grounding hand that had been propped on his shoulder for support turns tense. An uncharacteristic expression that he can’t read spreads across Baji-san’s face. Another pause of silence occurs; then it’s broken by a deep sigh. 

“ Geeeeeeezzz, what is with you guys these days! Just a week ago Mikey starts spewing about some bullshit magician and now you start believing you’re a compass for blonde twinks. I don’t think I can handle two crazy people along with Kazutora…” The last sentence being mumbled under his breath. 

While his tone is obviously joking, Chifuyu can see the heavy concern and somberness blatant through his form. 

Takemichi’s disappearance had been hard for everyone; even beyond the boundaries of Toman. But, it had been especially hard for the ones closest to him and those that had practically owed their lives to the teen. For ten miserable years, the promising group that had created their own powerful community and even rebuilt entire families, soured by the weeks passing of no news. 

It could very much be possible that they had all gone a little mad; only hopelessly hidden by how little some of them let it be seen on the outside. Mikey and Chifuyu might not be alone in their sentiments… but they are the only ones that let them be known to others. 

It’s a very uncertain and dangerous thought…

Sometimes during his frequent restless nights, Chifuyu would lie awake in his bed, gazing distantly at his ceiling. He would wonder about what life would look like if his partner was never whisked away. The sun would probably shine a little brighter and its rays’ touch would be a few degrees warmer. Countless spring greenery would be seen decorating the gates, businesses, and windows throughout the streets of Shibuya. Accordingly, the air would be cleaner and relieve any person with smoking tendencies.

Maybe Mitsuya would have introduced his own clothing line globally? The Kawata twins would finally open their own restaurant? Maybe Chifuyu would have opened his own cat cafe? It would take a bit of work, but he’s sure that Baji and Kazutora would help him. His partner would even be the first one to show up on their opening day; his proud smile belonging to him solely that day.

Chifuyu doesn’t let these fantasies carry on for long…

The reminder of what Toman– what he – could have achieved by just being strong enough to protect their blondie was enough salt on their already oozing wounds. 

They had failed their Crybaby Hero direly. Chifuyu could never forgive himself for not paying enough attention to the signs that something would go wrong. None of them would feel anything akin to forgiveness until they had finally proven that they would never fail Takemichi again.

Hence promising this by blood and gold, Bonten was created. They ‘improved’ themselves to the point of working in the shadows; becoming a plague for Japan, which the citizens didn’t even know existed. Their organization was greatly successful, but apparently not enough even now. Their name was well known in every government spanning the entirety of Japan, yet they couldn’t even find one specific person. The deep frustration coils through their bodies, never relieved for a moment.

Whether they all truly have marched down the wrong path, as many have said to them in the past, it was ultimately for the world’s best interest. The news and frequently fleeting politicians curse what they’ve built, what they do, and try to stop them. But it doesn’t matter. 

All that matters is that Takemichi would understand. He has to! Even if he would have to be given some time, they know he would recognize what Bonten really stood for. Takemichi would understand that their love and loyalty surpasses all morals.

It’s just another reason that makes him so perfectly unique!

Chifuyu’s illusion is broken by the heavy hand that slaps the back of his head.

“BAJI-SAN!?” he wails.

“C’mon Chifuyu, let’s move our asses already! I don’t want to be the one to drag your dead body back.”

The green-eyed man mumbles under his breath for a moment until a helmet is gently shoved over him. Baji finally gets on the bike and revs as they leave the alleyway from under the light post’s flickering light. No doubt he’s laughing under his helmet at disturbing this nice neighborhood. 

Chifuyu just resigns to his fate and stays a silent backpack. Besides, he is starting to feel the blood loss start to pull on his mind…

Chapter Text

It’s been a little over a week since Takemichi met Ume at the thrift shop. He had managed to fully furnish his apartment decently. Sure it’s still deathly clean and there might still be some transparent plastic on the furniture, but it’s not like he needs much on his own for the moment. With his laziness, the apartment is sure to get a few stains and dust bunnies soon.

Moving around the kitchen purposefully, Takemichi wears his long hair clipped into an updo, dipping his clean hands gently in a bowl of water and resuming his work for the day. Engulfed in pots of live herbs or vegetables, air purifying plants, the little utensils he has, and all the weird vintage or retro ceramics he somehow loves, the kitchen now looks like it’s actually lived in. 

The rest of his apartment looks similar too. Takemichi is positive that if he were to be thrown into the American DC universe, he’d be Poison Ivy at this point. 

He lightly chuckles at how ironic it is for him to raise so many living things, while he is also the very cause for so many other lives to end… his hands begin to shake slightly as memories bubble up in his brain.

Shaking the solemn thoughts from his mind, Takemichi gets back to his task. During one of his runs to the convenience store these past days, he had encountered Ume working once and they exchanged numbers. In about two or so hours, they were supposed to meet up at the local library. Of course he only agreed to just be courteous! Nothing else, promise! 

He didn’t want to ever rope anyone into time’s personal mission to punish him and all the people around him; but these surely wouldn’t be anything big. Just a small talk between neighbors. Not friends… 

Friends..?      

A feeling of guilt and sorrow casts a fog over his movements, slowing them down.

Sighing, Takemichi again shakes his train of thought away again. He was currently working on making some pickled plum onigiri for Ume. Popping off the latch of his rice cooker, a rising cloud of hot steam escapes as he opens the lid and fluffs up the rice. Taking only a brief moment to close his eyes as the warm humidity blasts his face. Refreshed, he gently folds a prepared salty, sugary, vinegar mixture into the rice; taste testing some as it cools into a perfectly tangy base. 

Covering his milky hands in water, he takes a portion of rice and starts to shape it into a triangle shape. Compressing the sides of it in Takemichi’s palms, digging his thumb into the center to leave space for the pickled plums. As the warmth from the rice transfers into his hands, many would call it almost blistering, but he just finds that it calms his heart a bit more. The rice leaves a red blush on his deserving hands. 

Using chopsticks to drop a pitted carmine plum in the indention, extra rice then covers it back up. Throughout the process, redipping his hands in water so the rice doesn’t stick. It takes about an hour till the last plum is placed and Takemichi begins to package them. 

Being careful to place the seaweed strips correctly and wrapping the onigiri securely, he places them into a bag and exits the kitchen to get himself ready. Dressed in a casual light green sweater and baggy pants, Takemichi grabs the bag and his keys as he exits the apartment, making sure to lock it behind him. 

Walking down the street’s sidewalk, he spots a blue sweater dressed Ume already waiting for him outside of the bookstore. 

“Oh! Hi Ume, I guess we both got here early.”

“Hey Takemichi! Guess so, I don’t have anything else better to do today. Want to go in?”

“Gladly” he awkwardly breathes out, realizing he’s been just standing in the middle of the sidewalk. 

Light conversations flow between the two as they browse through countless shelves of books and topics. Starting with the science fiction genre and working on from there. Some time through, Takemichi shares his onigiri with the other. 

As she takes a bite out of the comfort food, her hand comes up to her mouth instantly and doubles over. 

Distressed, Takemichi hurriedly apologizes many times in confusion.

“H-hehehe! Calm down… Takemichi! No need to say sorry so much, it’s delicious!”

He pauses with wimpish eyes for a moment, “B-but why were you spitting it out then?”

“Spitting it out??? Hon, I was laughing! This is plum right? Heh, you gave Ume umeboshi, that’s all!” she explains pointing to herself, trying to calm down the young man. 

His shoulders sag with relief and he outwardly sighs. 

“Phew… o-ok. Sorry, I guess I overreacted…  

But! ‘Hon’ really? Ume, you sure are turning into a wrinkly old person already.”

“You-! I am a very youthful thirty, excuse you!” she gets shushed by a passerby in the aisle, remembering where they are again. 

“...”

“You what?” Takemichi asks, astonished. 

“...What? I’m not a minder reader.” Ume crosses her arms, her volume much softer this time.

“It’s not a bad thing! I uh– just thought you were much younger. Now I feel like I have to tell you, I’m twenty-five.”

Suddenly, her head droops down, the rest of her posture staying the same. 

Led by a pained groan, “...oh my god. At least, I have some of my touch left.”

Takemichi quietly laughs at that, moving on with the conversation for his friend’s– neighbor’s sake. They soon reach the poetry section. Both reading random lines from books they pick up. 

“Ooooooo~ Listen to this Takemichi, ‘The path is hidden by snow, Invisible, But thoughts of you, Lead me onward’. Realll romantic,” Ume articulates clearly from Ryokan. 

“Hmm.. I don’t know, seems kinda depressing to me,”

“What do you mean? It's a clear devotion of love between the pair!” She whims, jokingly clutching the book to her chest and swoons side to side. 

“But, one of them is clearly trying to keep up with the other, but they can’t unless they want to steer off their path and lose the other’s trail! I think it’s sad that one is in anguish and the other probably misses the other, but doesn’t know they are behind them,” Takemichi rambles relatively flat.

“...Deep words, Take-san. Deep words,” Ume replies, closing the book and handing it to Takemichi, “Anyways… Let’s lighten the mood; Have you ever read the Kitty Kisses manga?” Ume says as she walks down to another aisle, Takemichi in tow. 

“Uhhhh… not really?” Soon enough, their conversation trails off and it now leaves them both silently browsing the books. 

Looking through all the colorful covers and juicy hooks, he starts to feel a warm sentimental feeling grow in him. With the little bit of manga that Takemichi remembers Chifuyu reading and acting out for him in the past, the nostalgia brings a genuine smile to his face. One that would now be classified as rare.

If he knew one thing about Chifuyu, it would be his everlasting love for cheap and cheesy romance mangas. Takemichi could still recall many times his partner had practically scarred his innocent mind whenever he would sleep over. According to the perpetrator, his face would turn bright red and his signature panicked deer face would surface. It had been their own secret thing for Chifuyu to share things from his mangas with Takemichi, then laugh and tease him about what he got flustered about. 

Really! Many people would honestly expect Baji to have the dirtiest mind, but he’s pretty sure that his partner would easily win that debate!!!

“Oh, how I miss those days…” Takemichi sighs to himself. Staring at a limited edition manga of Chifuyu’s beloved ‘Manly Kitty Kisses’ series that he had practically begged all of Toman to get him. They didn’t. 

Caught up in reminiscing, the easy smile from earlier slips from his face. It then transforms into a small, but noticeable frown now ruining his complexion.

Throughout the years that Takemichi had been enslaved, he had dreamt and pleaded with whatever higher power was out there that someone from Toman would find him. Even after some time, he hadn’t given up on the thought, but just redirected it to pleading that at least his partner would be with him somehow. Now he just realizes that he had been pleading with his own mind; nothing else. 

While he freely drowned in his sorrow and disconnectedness, there had still been a tiny pebble out of a sea of boulders that represented his anger towards the Tokyo Manji Gang. Takemichi would never consciously or unconsciously admit to those feelings of discernment towards his friends. It was simply out of their level of problem, he reasoned.  

But as it turned out; if he looked too long at the glass of a window, not looking through, but at; then darker voices would crawl into his mind. Twisting his reality and creating thoughts of abandonment. A seed of wonder would warp into flowers of resentment. 

What is life like now in Shibuya after I was taken? Toman would notice, they must have… 

How did they react?

Are they as distraught as I am? Or have they moved on? 

I put together their lives again, they could easily move on with the ones they truly love…

Why does that make me feel jealous..?

As long as they are safe, it should all be fine.

Why wasn’t it?

Wasn’t he enough for them?

Surely their Crybaby Hero was important to the executives…

If he was so important, why had he been rotting in that house for years with no one noticing?

His identity, except his name, had not been changed. 

Takemichi doesn’t doubt that Mikey-kun would be able to tell it was him just by a glance…

Silly boy… no one is going to look for you! Because, you’re not relevant. 

They are better off without you. You and your gift only brings more pain.

With enough time, they will forget you and you will forget them…

That was the starting point for him. He would never cut his hair. As long as he remembered, Takemichi hoped they would too. 

They’ve already forgotten!

Chapter Text

Snatched from his forever spiraling thoughts that he would no doubt reacquire in his dreams like many times before, Ume settles to the right of him again in the aisle. Her eyes fleek across the bookshelf in front of them, politely staring at the same manga as him. In a strange but simple way, it makes him feel less lonely.

As Takemichi turns his head to his new friend– neighbor , she seems to have found something in the book too as she surveys it. A chuckle is summoned from himself when he is met with a genuinely confused Ume face after she finished gazing.

“What??”

“Takemichi. Are you interested in women?” She says calmly, like she is analyzing him and picking apart a puzzle. There’s no heat to the question, but the young man’s face quickly fizzes with embarrassment. 

“Huh?! U-uh I mean, yeah?” Takemichi avoids eye contact, but Ume sees his eyes narrow looking at the shelf again. 

“Why does that sound like a question?”

“....Well I did have a girlfriend in middle school for like… maybe… 4 months but then we broke up,” Now he’s wrangling his hands together. It had been so long since he thought about Hinata and admittedly it makes him feel bad. They had gotten together early into middle school just because of puppy love, but then they soon broke up afterwards and stayed friends. It was awkward, but he knew he couldn’t be Hinata, she deserved better. Maybe she is better now after all this time?

“Sooooooooo why are you looking in the yaoi sectio–”

“Let’s go eat Ume!!! You know a really really good cafe around here you wanted to show me, right? Come on heh,” Takemichi bashfully interrupts Ume and rushes them both to the door. 

The older woman just sighs as they both get to the door, the younger more eager than the other. For now she'll let this go, too concerned that Takemichi would get a nosebleed if her questions continued. 

Stepping through the entrance and exit of the library, a brisk breeze brushes across Takemichi’s face. The heat on the tips of his ears and cheeks fade from the lingering touch. He takes a moment to just feel the outside, the light difference, air difference, temperature difference. It’s a habit he has built now that his shackles from outside have been removed. 

As Ume steps up to his side, he finishes his moment, neither mentioning it too. 

The walk is short to the cafe, Nebokgom, a korean shop. Although it’s not the same store he had sat in after the funeral, it’s the same brand. During that time, he hadn’t had the ability to fully feel where he had been. He knew, but he didn’t know. 

Stepping inside, a wall of delicious warm air hits them both. The line leading up to the front is sparse, most people are there for pick-up orders. Promptly joining the line, their glass display case of pastries and drink options does a great job of gathering drool in his mouth. An identical taiyaki neon sign from about a month or so earlier is in the shop too. It tugs at something deep in his heart, but he wordlessly cuts it off. This is not the time or place. 

Finally reaching the teen cashier, Ume orders their apple madeline and his cheese potato scone with a warm smile and small talk. Mindful to the annoyed people behind them in line, Takemichi drags his neighbor away from the line and they settle into a plush teal booth. After a few moments of both the neighbors letting silence grow between them, their food quickly arrives at their table. 

Graced with the comfort of cafe treats, Takemichi excitingly bites into his scone, a moan escaping his throat at the taste. He doesn’t realize he has closed his eyes until he has to open them to the sound of giggling across from him. Looking over to his less enthusiastic co-patron, she wears a teasing expression on her face. 

“Geez Takemichi, it’s that good huh? You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were a dog getting a treat just now,” the bronze-eyed woman jeers with no real heat. 

“E-Eh!? Hey! At least a lot of people like dogs, like corgis. You could easily be a hyena with how much you laugh!” Takemichi defends himself, albeit weakly. The two continue to banter and banter until a tired employee approaches their table and they are forced to leave out of embarrassment. Even whilst rapidly apologizing, there seems to be an air around Ume that just smoothes out worries and instills some kind of content in the ravenette. 

For a brief instance, a smile graces the time leaper’s face, an expression clong lost. However, it leaves as soon as it appears. Finished apologizing and walking away, Ume jovially grasps their hands together as they exit the cafe. As the skin of her palm touches his, an electrifying flash rushes through Takemichi’s body from head to toe. His sapphire eyes widen in pain, every muscle tensing, and breathing stunned. 

Crashing to his knees, heaving deep breaths and trying to see through the teary blur over his vision, Takemichi once again does not recognize the ground he is looking at. Still without constraint of himself, he lifts his head to gape at the unfamiliar setting. The panicking man kneels alone on a public street at night, the moon shining down to frame his complexion. Suddenly, a loud clamor of metal hitting something soft echoes out into the air. The violent commotion draws Takemichi’s attention quickly, whipping his head towards it and scrunching his face in disturbance. 

Go

You have to go see

Don’t you want to see?

Gasping out the trance, he knows he’s in the future, he knows he’s in her future . Even though they had only just met, Takemichi couldn't stomach seeing Ume’s death. With every ounce of happiness he gets, it seems the universe finds a way to rip it apart. Energy pulses through his legs and he is almost forced to scramble to his feet and in the direction of the earlier noise. 

Coming to a doorway of a nail salon, he looks in to see little to nothing wrong with the inside. White artificial light fills the tiled space and bubbling foot baths are still on, but there is something very very wrong. Not a single person is around. Purses and shoes are strewn around the seats, but they seem to have been left behind in a quick hurry. Unconsciously walking further into the shop, Takemichi spots a line of blood drops. 

At one point while following the trail, the blood seems to have been dragged through as it is smeared, with dread on his face, everything leads towards a slightly ajar break door. Drawing closer, muffled noises of sharply exhaled air and click-clacking of footsteps grow louder. Hesitantly, the door is pushed open to reveal a stomach curdling scene. Most people would have thought that Takemichi would be immune to seeing bloody sights after so long, but in reality, it never got easier for him.

Horror dawning on his face, Ume sits slumped tied to a metal folding chair in the middle of the break room. Her head hangs low, but the multitude of bruising and cuts on the rest of her tell enough of what has happened. Splashes of blood stains her convenience store uniform while her hair, now a bob, sways barely with her hefty inhales and exhales. All Takemichi can do is watch frozen as a blurry figure approaches his neighbor, saying something foreign to his ears to cause her to look up. 

Quite unusual as in all his other visions of the past, he was able to see and hear everything unlike now.

Before he can even start to understand the look in her bronze eyes, the figure extends their arm out, tan fingers pulling on their gun’s trigger without any delay. Ume’s head drops limp. Now forever hanging low as blood, brain matter, and bits of skull pour down onto the ground. As the puddle of biological head grows, the suited killer steps away in disgust, waving their hand passively at a taller figure, who has watched the encounter with their hands in their pockets.  

Saddened, in a blink of his eyes, Takemichi is launched back to the present time. Opening his eyes, he comes face to face with Ume, who he now realizes he has far too much knowledge of. Her face is laced with concern and distress as she allows the younger man to brace himself on his arms for a second. They had barely crossed over the exit of the cafe when her friend suddenly fainted for a second. 

“Woah Takemichi, are you ok?!” she quizzes, suspecting that the answer is no. Maybe he had some kind of health condition? Or was today just a bad day? Ume had no idea what to think. For a moment, all the male can do is just stare into her eyes before he breaks into a dismissive and anxious smile. 

“S-Sorry! Uh- hands! I don’t do touching hands… they have germs? Um… K, I have to go.” It’s like words spill out of his mouth, none that he clearly thinks through enough. Embarrassed and once again deeply depressed, he doesn’t waste time explaining to his neighbor before he practically runs away.

Chapter Text

Abandoning the one person he was just starting to get to know, Takemichi sprints to the closest area of solitude he could find, the creepy alleyway from the night before. Although not his first choice, his vomit doesn’t wait for anything before it is spilling into a smelly metal dumpster. Wiping the corner of his mouth with the sleeve of his now ruined green sweater, Takemichi slumps over himself as he squats closer to the brick ground. 

Tears collect in his eyes, but they don’t dare to fall yet. All he can think about is his own emotions spiraling. He didn’t want to see anything. It was involuntary. Takemichi deep down had just wanted one person to talk to that he didn’t know how they died. He didn’t want to see their guts, their blood, their bones, or their last moments. It felt personal, but he was never the one meant for it. 

At some point in his self-pity wallowing, Takemichi’s ears prick up at the sound of a quiet crash further down the alley. Whimpering silently as he wipes tears and snot from his face, when he turns to look in the direction of the noise, his confusion grows as he can’t see anything causing it. His thoughts recall the other night when he hadn’t rushed in to see what was happening. Immediately, guilt flows through him and for his own sanity, Takemichi decides to investigate this one time. 

As he’s about to get up and walk further into the darkening path, a fast burst of brown fur comes galloping out of the shadows. It’s tiny paws thump against the ground quickly before clawing their way up and onto Takemichi himself! 

“Eh?” Takemichi mutters stupidly, looking down to see a small kitten trying its best to seek shelter in his arms. The kitten, which now more accurately seems to be white but covered in dirt and grime, wiggles around to find a hold on his sweater. Takemichi scoops up the kitten by the butt and hold them out with their sharp claws waving in the air trying to get to him. 

Suddenly, another crashing noise comes from even further in the alley, causing the kitten to struggle even more. Sensing their fear and eagerness to get away from whatever that was, “Ow-! Ok, ok, I’ll get you out of here!” Takemichi holds the dirty kitten closer to himself as they both rush back home. 

With the newly acquired kitten in his arms, Takemichi is watched with bewildered eyes from afar. Having gone back to the alleyway to investigate the route Chifuyu had taken the night he got kidnapped, Baji stands perplexed as he observes his very own living and breathing savior. Besides the long hair and less squeaky voice, Takemichi was the same as he remembered. Dazzling blue eyes, pale skin, and of course his selfless-ness, the thoughts of it still made his heart beat a little bit faster. 

All Baji had expected was to see how the police were dealing with the house and walk down the roads that his devoted friend had, looking for anything left behind, until the kitten had suddenly appeared. At first, he was super bummed out when Draken had given him some kind of boring walk in the park, Baji only wants to do the blowing things up kind of deals. In his own attempt to distract his destructive mind, he had been kicking some loose trash around, when one crushed soda can he kicked accidentally drew out a hiss from another pile of trash. 

Catching the sight of his favorite animal, Baji tried to chase after the kitten for a little pet. Silently prowling behind the fast bastard, he was led down many different directions before the cat had finally scampered down a familiar alleyway. Seeing that it had gotten tired and paused for a second, Baji was just about to get it when a zoomie propelled the kitten down towards another figure at the opening of the alley. 

As he was about to yell at the stranger to hand over the cat, all the words got stuck in his throat and never made it out of his open mouth. There sat the supposedly missing guy that took a knife for him. In a moment of rare intelligence for the dark-haired man, he decided to keep to the shadows and observe the other. The more he watched, the more it solidified in his mind that that was Hanagaki Takemichi. 

⠂⠂⠂

Having come back to the Bonten headquarters with nothing else but the knowledge of his pivotal discovery, Baji arrives in the middle of a tense Bonten executives’ meeting. All around a big wooden table sits the higher-ups of Toman, Tenjiku, and the Black Dragons absorbed into their yakuza. Mikey sits like a stone at the head of the table, Draken standing to his right. 

Farther down the right row of seats, Chifuyu stands heated next to Kazutora, Baji’s own seat empty on his other side. The man with jade green eyes seems to be in a rather one-sided argument with their vice commander. 

“-m telling you, we are close! If we just reinforce Bonten in parts of Chiba, then we’re bound to find him!” No one seems to pay attention to Baji as he leans against the wall behind his seat, they are all more interested in their computer screens or Chifuyu’s pleading. 

With a hand over his face, Draken responds languidly, “Chifuyu, if we expand to Chiba, then we would be stepping in on the Uramoto Paragon-”

“Who we could theoretically absorb or make pay tribute,” Kakucho chimes from farther down the table next to Izana. 

“- But, how can we be sure this expansion will be worth it? How do you know Takemichi will be there? Bonten can’t get distracted while the Kurugiza threaten our eastern territory” the taller thundered, silencing the room for a moment. It’s silly to think that one name could cause such a change in atmosphere, but the effect is real. People have stopped typing and wearily looked up to see how Chifuyu will respond, even Koko. 

The black-haired man just stands there, fists clenching so tight they turn white, his lowers and he clearly bites back words. In truth, Chifuyu doesn’t have evidence… but Baji does. Clearing his throat rather loudly, the abrasive man pulls everyone’s attention to himself as he pushes off the wall to join his vice captain’s side. 

“Takemichi’s in Chiba. I saw him alive with my own eyes earlier during my walk,” Baji stuns the room with his confession. Even Chifuyu sharply looks over to him in shock. A new energy fills the air of the room, something electrifying and dangerous. Draken’s eyes widen at his childhood friend’s words, gulping as he glances over to Mikey. 

Since Takemichi’s kidnapping, Mikey was never the same again. Early on, there were times when he was close to being the same cheerful teen, but as time went on, those times lessened. Growing depressed, the smaller man’s midnight eyes turned dull obsidian and his appetite practically disappeared. His usual mane of blonde hair had thinned, causing a concerned Emma to cut his hair like when he was young. It is like his body and soul belonged to Takemichi; their separation was slowly killing him. 

All comments about Takemichi had been unspokenly declared taboo in Mikey’s presence since then. To have someone so close to Mikey be the first one to speak his name again, there was bound to be something to happen.

Baji’s voice leaked how serious he was, causing Mikey’s dissociated chewing of a taiyaki to halt. The younger man slowly turns his head to face his subordinate. A vicious gleam was born in his eyes as all his attention weighed on the fanged man. Soon, resolution spreads over his face and with the most haste they have all seen in years, his taiyaki is quickly eaten and swallowed. Close by, Kisaki resumes his typing in earnest.

With a clearing of his voice, “Koko, help Kakucho get rid of the Uramoto Paragon. I want them gone from the Kanto prefecture in a week,” Mikey orders before dismissing the rest of the meeting. The executives all bow before standing up to go about their own tasks. If some of them seem to not go in the direction of their office, then no one says anything.

“Baji, you’re going to show Ken-chin and I where you saw Mitchy tomorrow morning,” Mikey walks over to where the other is still standing tense before calling out, “You come too Mitsuya.” He exits without another sound.

The next morning, all the men gathered at 8 AM sharp before climbing into a seemingly normal black car with tinted windows. Shortly after, Draken is driving the four men with Baji’s directions from the backseat. Mikey sits in the passenger, his feet on the dash as he stares absentmindedly out of his window. Mitsuya also sits in the back with his legs crossed and his tablet out, already sketching outfit ideas for his past division member. 

Within minutes, the past Toman captains sit parked across from the alleyway Baji had mentioned. While Mitsuya still hasn’t raised his head from his iPad and Baji is explaining more about where he was Takemichi to Mikey, Draken takes a moment to observe where they are in Chiba. Looking around, the city seems nice and quiet. Store owners are just starting to open their doors and families with little kids are on their way to school. No wonder Takemichi or whoever might have him lives here. It’s so unsuspecting…

It’s too nice, he decides. While families walk along the sidewalk to wherever they want and clothing store owners are busy dealing with pissy grandmas, there’s no teenage boys running around or leaning against walls like it’s the coolest thing. There’s no delinquent activities happening like what used to happen in their youth with Toman and other gangs. This city is better than that. It’s better at protecting Takemichi than they clearly have.

A snap of fingers draws Draken’s attention back towards the car ride’s purpose. Turning his head to look in the same direct as everyone else, it’s like the air in his lungs has been physically taken from them. Three hearts in that car skip a beat, while the fourth entirely stops. There, dashing down the sidewalk with a rolled up paper in his hand, was Hanagaki Takemichi. 

In a silent car, a whisper drifts from Mikey’s mouth wistfully, “...breathtaking…”

Chapter Text

Sitting on the floor of his kitchen, the newly acquired kitten purrs happily as a plate of smushed tuna is offered to it. Focused on stuffing its tiny belly with food, it doesn’t notice or care when Takemichi sits next to it. Or when a lethargic hand starts stroking their crusty back. Or when that hand quickly pulls back after feeling the built-up dirt. 

Failing to have a nice moment with his accidental new kitten, Takemichi sighs exhausted from his luck. A cat was a part of his plan for his new life, but he didn’t expect one so soon. Laying down onto the cool tile floor, Takemichi closes his eyes and just… breathes for a minute. Unfortunately, his moment of calming solitude is broken by the feeling of small wet paws pushing against his cheek.

Opening his eyes and looking at the kitten, Takemichi has made up his mind. The kitten stays, but it needs a bath. Wet cat food mush covers most of their face and paws, like they had walked through it and rolled around, which somehow makes their bright yellowish green eyes pop. As the young man rolls up his sleeves and scoops up the messy kitten, holding it a far distance from his clean clothes, Takemichi faintly wonders if this is what Toman felt like when he was still a member. 

That thought lingers a little bit more in his mind until it is pushed away by the surprisingly hard task of bathing a dirty, spicy kitty. It takes almost a whole hour, a few towels, and constant reassurance from Takemichi to turn the brown crusty kitten into a white and drying fluffy cat. She- yes, he had checked while bathing her- was now settled curled up on one of his pillows as they both drift to sleep. Tonight, somehow, the nightmares seem lighter than usual on Takemichi’s consciousness. 

The next morning, the kitten wakes up to the blaring sound of a crash nearby. Claws out, puffed up fur, she watches as her kinda owner runs around his room frantically. Takemichi had overslept and his alarm to leave his house for a job interview was the only thing that woke him up. Now he was panicking, throwing on any clothes he sees and brushing his teeth all while doing so. 

Forgoing breakfast and grabbing his paper resume, Takemichi bolts down the sidewalk after locking his door with the kitten inside. Unaware of the multitude of eyes staring at him outside of the civilians curious to why he is running, Takemichi is lucky when he gets to the local CVD store with thirty seconds to spare. 

Standing inside the entrance, he introduces himself to the cashier while taking heavy breaths, who just so happens to be the owner. Sweating dropping along the side of his head, Takemichi smiles sheepishly as he is told who they are. Nevertheless, he really wants a job, not only that it would make people less suspicious of his wealth, but because of the normal schedule it would give him. 

After only about half an hour, Takemichi waves to his to-be boss as he exits the store. Full of shock that he had gotten the job that quick, Takemichi smiles slightly to himself. Maybe he wasn’t as useless as he felt..? Liar. You’ll probably curse your boss and all the people that come in.

Letting out an exhausted sigh, the sapphire blue eyed young man decides to take a detour on the way home, making a quick stop at a pet store. Getting a cart and navigating through the aisles, Takemichi grabs whatever he thinks his new kitten would need. It’s when he’s cluelessly looking in between the many different litter boxes that something catches his attention in the corner of his eye. To the right of him, a considerable distance away, a group of three dark haired men stand close together. By the hitching of their shoulders and basket full of treats, they seem to be just hanging out while shopping. 

This shouldn’t alarm Takemichi, but turning his head to look closer, their cat kinda looks… familiar. Connected by light green leash and collar, the cat sits patiently by its owners as they talk, its acidic green eyes catching onto Takemichi. No way… he thinks to himself. That cat looks like Peke J.

Before one of the owners, the mediumly tall and long haired one, can fully turn his head to look at where their cat was looking so intensely, Takemichi hastefully grabs a random litter box and hurries down another aisle. He scolds himself at being so lonely that he’s imagining even the pets of his long lost friends, super creepy of him. But… some part of him did think that cat was Peke J and got scared, hence why he was now paying and exiting the store. Reasoning with himself, Takemichi just brushes it off as he just wanting to get home quicker. 

Arms full of bags of cat supplies, the black and some blonde haired young man takes the short way home. Walking past a popular ramen shop that he had been hearing about recently from Ume, his damned eyes catch another haunting sight. Inside, two men are sitting on stools against the bar eating. Both the same height and wearing the same business man clothes, it’s their hair that sticks out; long curly hair in the colors peach orange and the other cotton candy blue.

Without seeing their faces, Takemichi’s breath hitches and his heart feels like it might explode. It can’t be them… It’s not! God, you’re going insane, Takemichi , he thinks to himself with a hateful tone. Rushing home now, he slams the door closed and slides himself down against the door’s wood, his thin pale arms wrapping around his knees. 

Clear tears are free to frame the waterline of his prized eyes and cascade down his cheeks, the drops splashing down on the floor of his home. Over his own sniffles, loud raspy meows are heard and he opens his red rimmed eyes to stare at the white kitten now climbing her way up his pants. Chuckling at how bossy the kitten is for him to stop crying and pay attention to her, Takemichi digs into one of his bags of errands. 

Taking out a light violet collar with a bell and tag on it, Takemichi is thankful that the kitten doesn’t fight against him putting it on her. Adjusting the size to fit with a width of one finger all around her neck, Miruku, as her tag says, looks absolutely adorable with it on. Scratching under her chin, Takemichi realizes that he had calmed down already with the help of Miruku, an unfortunately impressive feat.

That night… Takemichi goes to bed feeling a little bit more floaty than usual in his head, but the tiny warm body that now cuddles in the nook of his neck brings a newfound sense of optimism. An optimism that wherever, whenever Takemichi is, there might be Miruku there too.

⠂⠂⠂

As Takemichi lays with the bossy Miruku, basking in long deserved light from the moon. Somewhere close by, the same moon shines down on darker souls. Countless men work in the same shadows as one another, all ready for something to go down as the wind turns silent. An event is on the edge of being put into action, just one man has to give the signal.

Said man pinches the bridge of his nose as stacks of paper and good news are given to him by another man with long hair. “Here it is, #####. ##### agrees to your demands, but in exchange for one of the target’s own special pieces of work. ” In a dismissive scoff, the man responds “You know what… fine. You can go now, #####. I’ll handle the rest with this buffoon.” 

As if on cue, the nicknamed ‘buffoon’ rests a large hand on the man’s shoulder and the long haired man exits the office. “I’m hurt, #####. You should appreciate me more, we wouldn’t want anything to happen to your fancy lady, right?” Slapping the hand off his pressed suit, a nasty sneer appears on his face. “I’ll chop your balls off.” All that is in response is just chaotic laughter that fills the room, booming through the sickening night.

Chapter Text

It’s only been a few days since Mikey had last seen, or stalked, Takemichi. The Crybaby’s proof of existence had set off countless celebrations in his black heart and mind. After he, along with Draken and Mitsuya, got back to base from driving by a found Takemichi the first time, everyone noticed the tears in Emma’s eyes as she saw her brother finally return back to himself. The difference was very little, his dark impulses banished further out of control, it meant the world to Toman. Hence, why Draken was now driving Mikey back to the city that they tracked their missing trio member to.

Driving through the busy streets of cities nearby Takemichi’s Draken debriefs Mikey, who is sitting in the passenger seat with his feet on the dash, on political progress Koko and Kakucho had made in forcing the Uramoto Paragon from the area. “With some help by the Heavenly Kings, Koko was able to make a deal with the gang leaders around him, but… something about it bugs me, Mikey.” 

The blonde man doesn’t turn his eyes away from watching the world pass by him in the window, but he does address his right hand man’s nervousness, “How so, Ken-chin?” “Even to my own standards, they agreed too easily. I sent the twins out to see what was happening and get this- they saw underlings of the Kurugiza talking with a Uramoto Paragon executive at a love hotel.”

Mikey perks up at the mention of the infamous yakuza that, while still weaker than Bonten, held a much bigger hand in the black market and underground auctions. After a few moments of silence, Draken glances over to see the cold sight of a thinking Mikey; his eyes blank and unfocused on anything as unnatural shadows grow over his face. “Mikey..?” Draken asks, unnerved. He was right to be unnerved, because Mikey’s mind was swirling with enraged thoughts as clues started to form a clear picture in his head. 

Mikey had every right to go insane from the ten fruitless years he had spent battling his dark impulses while also building a violent empire with the sole purpose of tracking down his other half, but truth be told, he wasn’t insane. The ‘magician’ Baji had referenced was the rumors of a scarily accurate fortune teller that was spreading through the Kurugiza yakuza, one Mikey had done a little research on, his interest peaked rightfully so.

His obsidian eyes widening, speaking out loud, but with the volume like a passing breeze, “Takemitchy is the magician.” “Takemitchy’s a what now? Wha-” Draken begins to scold, misunderstanding his best friend, but his voice is cut off by the terrible screeching of their tires. On the side of the street, laying on a rooftop, a sniper reloads their rifle before shooting the remaining tires of their car. The sleek black automobile spins out of control and crashes into other people on the road. 

Keeping their position, the mysterious sniper empties the rest of their bullets into the windows of Draken and Mikey’s car, but the illegally tinted and reinforced glass doesn't break through, its top layers only shatter. While the sniper finally runs from the rooftops, another identical figure dressed in a fake special service uniform walks out from a nearby building. Walking over to their stopped and steaming car, gun in hand, they wrench the passenger door open, ready for the Invincible Mikey.

But he’s not there. Both seats lay empty and the keys from the car are gone too. Cursing vigorously, the figure storms away from the damaged car, hiding from the arriving news reporters and taking out a bulky walkie-talkie. “Their car is totaled, but no one was inside. Mission failed. Get ready, Bonten will be out for blood.”

⠂⠂⠂

After the eventful night Takemichi and Miruku had, it was a relief that the next morning was on the weekend. Sleeping in late and only getting up when Miruku absolutely demanded to be fed, the young man resumes the motions of a slow morning. Light music flows through his house while he finally plates breakfast for himself, a runny egg, some natto, and rice. When Miruku climbs onto his shoulders to perch like a parrot, Takemichi almost has a heart attack, but he doesn’t attempt to move the kitten or else he will face her needle sharp claws. 

Walking to eat his breakfast on his thrifted couch and watching the TV, Takemichi eats leisurely while flickering through the channels. As he reaches the provincial news channel, his jaw stops chewing and his eyes narrow, inspecting the scene. Tens of news reporters from all over Japan seem to be at a tragic car crash this morning. The total body count being 2 died and 10 more injured. 

They rerun security footage of how the crash happened from a shop’s camera above. The recording starts off normal, it’s just a busy street with many cars and motorcycles passing by civilians walking on the sides. Suddenly, a small black car steers out of control, speeding out of their lane and into other cars. Cars behind the blockage stop, while people along the sidewalks are running to either get away or open crashed car doors. 

“This morning around eight AM, shots were heard fired not long before the cra…” The news channel lady speaks sternly, but her voice fades from Takemichi’s ears. With the footage paused on the screen, the long haired man sits frozen. The ‘unidentified figure seen walking up to the causing car’ was dressed in all black, but the stark contrast of the three white lines and kanji symbol on their back tells the world exactly who they were. The kanji reading, ‘Kurugiza’. The three white lines standing for the yakuza’s motto, ‘There are three sides in life, the one for change, the one against change, and the change. Have all three.’

Loud bangful knocking against his front door tears Takemichi’s eyes from the screen. Looking to the noise in fear and his fist tightening around his fork, the blue eyed man’s body moves before his mind can catch up. Purely in survival mode, Takemichi grabs an empty backpack and runs around his house, packing on the important essentials. His phone, a charger, pain relief medication in case of a very very likely injury, his wallet, and finally Miruku are all pushed and zipped up inside the bag. 

The banging against his door hasn’t stopped since, but it’s turned into less frequent and more powerful shoves trying to break through the wood. Lifting up the screen of his bedroom window, Takemichi gasps as he hears the sound of his door finally breaking and shouting of men. Without looking back, he jumps out the window and grabs onto rain pipes on the way down to the vacant alleyway below.

Once his feet touch the ground, he doesn’t stop running. A feisty hiss from inside his bag reminds him to not jostle it around too much, Takemichi in return thinks many apologies inside his mind. Thinking of places to go, the ravenette can only imagine one person willing to help him, the only person he had talked to since managing freedom. Running to the convenience store, Takemichi is relieved to find working at the cashier as soon as he pushes the doors open. 

“Ume! U-ume! I need to talk to you. Like right now, come on!” He practically begs and shouts, out of breath from running the whole way there and with the pounding of his adrenaline filled heart. His hands grab at the counter, his blue eyes conveying an urgency she can’t ignore. 

“Great Kami, Takemichi! Are you ok? Uh- here, I’ll just take my break. Follow me into the back and please, try to breathe a bit!” He follows her obediently to the back room of her job, glancing behind himself paranoid. As soon as the door shuts and both of the adults are alone together, Takemichi finally begins calming down a little. “Ume, you gotta help me… Look, I’ve been a part of something bad in the past and I’ll forever hate myself for involving you in this! They’re after me, I don’t know where to go!”

The older woman steps closer to him, her hands grounding him as they settle on his biceps. “Takemichi… you’re kinda scaring me here. Who is ‘they’? I heard about the suspicious car crash this morning with the Uramoto, are you with them or something..?”

Looking off to the side in awkward anxiety, the young man starts to ramble, “I- I know.. but ! Ugh, you wouldn’t get it! They’re..- wait.” His eyes don’t blink as they fixate on a spot on the ground. Without turning his head back to look at Ume, Takemichi staggers back a few inches, enough to get out of her reach. “Wait. How do you know that name…?”

It would almost be comical in any other situation to see the surprise and embarrassment now appearing on Ume’s face. Raising her hands, Takemichi steps back further, but she doesn’t move closer. Her hands raise to grab her bottom lip, turning it inside out to show her gum. More specifically, her gum with the faded tattoo of three lines and one kanji symbol, same as the uniform on the car crash scene.

Takemichi exhales a puff of cold air, before booking it out of the break room. It seems the universe loves seeing Takemichi running manically through sidewalks. As he turns one corner out of the alleyway leading from the convenience store, Takemichi is frantic as he hears multiple heavy footsteps close behind him. He attempts to weave in and out of the streets, but makes the fatal mistake of not looking behind himself.

Chapter Text

Shit, I should’ve done more cardio. These guys won’t stop..! Takemichi thinks to himself as he has yet to stop running, but has noticeably gotten slower. Clutching his bag to his chest in order for the people chasing him to have nothing to grab him by, Takemichi almost forgets that time and the universe hates him. Unluckily, he’s reminded. 

From a loose and long braid, his mostly black hair loses its rubber band at the end. Consequently, from a few inches of piss blonde to the majority length of raven black, Takemichi’s hair unravels itself from the criss-cross organization and now flows freely in the air rushing past him as he continues to run. 

Countless nights he had spent cleaning and brushing through the long strands, reminiscing on how small his world seemed when he last got it cut. With friends right alongside him, standing up straight against anything the world could throw at him was easy for past Takemichi. Current Takemichi, not so much. His way of survival was taking what he got and running with it, being in the background meant being safe. In some way, being separated from his friends had helped him stay alive… Takemichi loved them too much to not sacrifice himself if needed regardless of how much time had passed. 

Now, back to our frantic Takemichi, who has tragically slowed down even more for his run to be called more of a jog. His throat was burning and it felt like his lungs could never get enough air, but miraculously, the footsteps behind him were pacing with him..? Close enough to send shivers of danger up his spine, but far enough that he couldn’t be caught yet. It confused the young man and he prayed that it wasn’t a trap, that he wasn’t accidentally running exactly where the people wanted him to go. 

Abandoning his path on the public sidewalks, Takemichi takes his chasers through the loops and sharp turns of his city’s alleyways. After some time leading them to nowhere and successfully turning on a dime around a left corner, Takemichi finally hears the steps behind him slow down, creating more distance between their target. Cheering to himself, the blue eyed man exchanges a quick turn of his head to see who exactly was pursuing him. Still running, an ugly look of confusion appears on his face as he recognizes the one, two, three… three men that were behind him. 

Even after ten, close to eleven, years of no contact, Takemichi somehow still remembers the faces of higher ups from Valhalla. Pausing in running after him, Choji, Chome, and Chonbu stand stopped watching as Takemichi gets away. The swirling tattoo on the left side of Chonbu’s face, Choji’s black mask, and the big gauged ears of Chome are very distinctive after all. Unfortunately, they are as distinctive as they are distracting. Takemichi doesn’t turn his head around in time to avoid running into the long outstretched arm of another, “Gotcha!”

“AGHH- !” Caught by his neck, there would no doubt be some kind of bruise on his Adam’s apple later. The moved arm bends to grab around the man and wrestle, or more so push, Takemichi into an open door of another expensive looking car. The blue-eyed man’s arms curl around his bag even more as he is tossed onto his back against what feels like quality leather and smells like a freshly cleaned car. Not registered when he had exactly closed his eyes, his bright irises pop open to stare at a rather unlikely sight. 

Now seeing Chome, Chonbu, and Choji chasing after him was making sense. With the car door still open as his legs were peaking off of the seat, outside’s sunshine and the car’s inside lights highlight the judgemental tawny face of his second biggest enemy, Kisaki Tetta. Number one biggest enemy being the bastards that kidnapped Takemichi, but the difference was very small between the rankings. 

Before he can say anything, which would probably get him killed by an angry Kisaki, Takemichi snaps his head up to see as the man that had caught him, fucking Hanma Shuji, pokes at his feet from outside the car. “Hanagaki Takemichi! Long time no see, yeah?! Man, I almost didn’t recognize you with how your face wasn’t covered in snot and tears!” Hanma exclames in an annoyingly happy, but also curiously sensual, voice. Takemichi just responds in angry grumbles and glares. He wasn’t much of a match against Hanma in the past, so no shot he could now. He was stuck. 

Smiling like an idiot, Hanma finds his anguish amusing as he roughly shoves his feet inside the car, slamming the door shut. Outside, Takemichi watches as he seems to talk to the trio that had chased you, dismissing themselves at the end to get lost. As Hanma settles business, the sudden movement behind him panics Takemichi and the young man cringes at realizing his head had been tossed on Kisaki’s lap the first time and now he was leaning on the tan man. 

Sitting up in a flurry of motion on a seat like normal, his bag set on his lap, Takemichi glances at Kisaki, who just seems to be typing something on his fancy iPad instead of paying attention to the whole human being that he had just kidnapped. Shortly after, Hanma opens the door and slides in, shutting it close while he and Kisaki squish Takemichi in between the two of them, who lets out an offended squawk.

Shoulders pushed up to his ears and arms strictly covering his bag, which he regrettably can feel Miruku actively paw at to escape, Takemichi sits almost dumbfounded at how casual the other men act while he is so close to his soul ascending in himself. Once everyone has their seatbelt on, Hanma helping Takemichi with his, Kisaki knocks at the divider between the back seats and the driver to get moving. 

Once the setting from the dark windows starts to move faster and faster, Takemichi gathers the courage to speak. His hands are trembling as they rest against his bag, the reminder of exactly who is after him and where he currently has no idea he’s going, but his conviction is strong as steel. “Kisaki. Hanma- ugh ,” at the mention of his name, the zombie had winked at Takemichi, “As much as I have never wanted a reunion with you two, I’m here and I would really like to know what I could do to leave. Immediately.”

Still not looking up at their capture, Kisaki speaks in a level tone that conveys nothing except cordial boredom, “Unfortunately for us, you’re not leaving. But rest assured, I’m not going to hurt you. You’re useless to me.” Now, getting stuck in his head like he always would when they were kids, Kisaki continues his exasperated speech, “ I won, after all! Since you broke up and left Hinata along with everyone else ten years ago, I was able to charm Hinata from your idiocracy as the superior option!” 

Using the same face he had when seeing the Valhalla trio, Takemichi just stares incredulously at the man, who was now laughing not unlike a Disney villain. Turning his head to look at Hanma too, he’s disappointed at seeing the tall man bored as he looks out his window. Turning back to his childhood friend, Takemichi can’t stop himself from speaking, wanting to shed his truth, “Seriously Kisaki? I was kidnapped and that was what made you think you had a chance with Hinata? Dude, we had broken up weeks before that!” 

Recharging the trembles in his form, Hanma suddenly bursts out in loud rough laughter. Kisaki’s face was growing redder and his teeth were clenched impossibly tight, “Shut. Up. you buffoon. That’s not true..! Just, ugh- sit quiet before we arrive.” 

Great, I’m gonna die. Takemichi thinks to himself as he decides to follow his orders while Hanma has yet to stop laughing. As he keeps laughing, it becomes more apparent that he might not be laughing at what he said, but just laughing in general like the psycho he is. “Good to see you too…” Takemichi whispers under his breath sarcastically. 

After what feels like an hour has passed, Kisaki is locked in on his work and will not respond to Takemichi’s attempts at conversation anymore. The past-hero resorts to rebraiding his hair, which Kisaki surprisingly says for a moment, “Your hair looks well kept. But entirely too long.” “Hmm,” is all that’s said in response. 

Along with Takemichi, Hanma had grown bored and a bored Hanma was just waiting for trouble. Peering through his circular glasses, the zombie gazes down at the bag the blue eyed boy has not let go once on their car ride. His hands clenching and unclenching the material, causing one of his eyebrows to raise. 

Takemichi groans annoyed when he suddenly feels a strong elbow to his left nudge him. Looking up unimpressed, Hanma gestures to the bag. Not seeing other options, he sighs before opening the zipper, Miruku’s head immediately poking out fast. All three of the men in the back seat are greeted with surprisingly loud and raspy meowing, in protest to her residing inside the backpack any more.

Chapter Text

Freeing the white kitten from the bag, hopefully having not traumatized her just like Takemichi, and picking her up in his hands, it’s surprising when Hanma of all people starts cooing at the little pet while Kisaki just looks mildly disgusted. As Miruku stays dangling by her armpits in Takemichi’s hold and the tall man attempts to poke her with one of his fingers, the blue eyed man can’t help but look at Hanma in different eyes. With faded tattoos of ‘Sin’ and ‘Punishment’, he’s still abnormally tall and some of his past thrill-loving personality is still there, but something in his eyes has changed. In a way, he’s almost mellow, as much as Hanma can be at least. 

While his subordinate had glowed up with a set of fashionable glasses, piercing, and a new waving hairstyle, Takemichi doesn’t feel the same when he looks at Kisaki. His once meek childhood friend looked frankly washed out. Everything about him is so cut and clean, but there’s an uneasiness that settles in Takemichi’s mind about the other man. It’s always been there, but now it’s quite hard to ignore. The melancholic press of his lips and small, almost invisible, eye bags convey a story of loneliness. 

As time goes on and Takemichi continues to stare at Kisaki, trying to put together the puzzle that is his enemy, he’s embarrassingly caught by the eyes of the man himself in question. Quickly looking away and back to Miruku, Takemichi watches as her tiny tail starts to flick around increasingly vigorously at the same time Hanma’s finger moves closer to her. “Uh… Hanm- Ah! Ow!”, just as the kitten’s fangs catch onto and bite the extended finger, Miruku frantically wiggles her body in Takemichi’s hold, accidentally scratching him with her tiny claws. Amidst the panicked attack of the small thing, Kisaki pushes himself as far back in his seat as possible and away from her. 

Vaguely in his mind, Takemichi remembers the other’s bold distaste for cats ever since he was a kid and one had eaten his pet fish. It was a tragic day for Kisaki, the shy kid running to Hinata and Takemichi with tears in his eyes. Luckily, they were able to talk him out of seeking revenge on the cat… Maybe that was the first sign of his weird nature.

“Hehehee~ You little flea bag, you drew blood!” Hanma cheers in a tone of anger and also amusement. I take back everything I said nice about him. Takemichi thinks exasperated to himself. Despite Miruku’s outburst and the slight familiarity of his captors, Takemichi has to remind himself that he isn’t safe. He’s been forced into a car with people, who had no problem hurting him in the past, and going to a mysterious location. There’s no doubt in his mind that if the Uramoto Paragon yakuza knows he’s free and close by, so do other organizations. If they know, you’re good as dead. You should stop. You should kill yourself before they can!

At this point, Takemichi is starting to believe that the car is driving in circles like his mind. Confined to the middle of the back seat, Takemichi has nothing to lean on and his head has started to ache from his adrenaline crashing from this morning. He’d gotten away from the Kurugiza last time due to playing the waiting game for his handler’s untimely death. Takemichi doesn’t know if he could survive doing that again. Maybe the voices were speaking the truth…

Lulled from his dark thoughts by the sound of knocking against the car’s divider, he looks questioningly around him as both men get out of the car, seeing as it is parked at a fast food joint. While Hanma slams the door shut after him, Kisaki keeps the door open and offers Takemichi a hand in getting out. Flinching back at the extended limb, the lobelia blue eyed man pushes past it, not making eye contact once he gets out. Only muttering a weak, “I- I don’t touch hands… they have germs,” which earns him a displeased and suspicious look from the suited man. 

Takemichi’s never had a problem with germs before… Kisaki thinks to himself, watching as Takemichi stands close to him, like he’s already been trained in being the perfect kidnapping victim. His subordinate is leaning against the hood of the car, smoking a cigarette, while their driver goes to order some food. He only saw this stop as wasting time, but it is nice to stretch his legs after sitting for so long. 

Grabbing Takemichi by the shoulder, Kisaki moves him next to Hanma, instructing the other to watch them. Takemichi begins to roll his eyes, but the flash of a gun in Hanma’s belt loop stops him. Smirking, Kisaki walks farther away for privacy while he makes a call. It rings twice before being picked up, Kisaki speaking first. 

“Draken. How is Mikey after the crash? All of Japan saw tha-” Before he can finish speaking, the dragon cuts him off, dismissive in his tone with brooding anger swirling underneath, “He’s fine. If the Uramoto Paragon is challenging us, then the whole world should be warned.” Kisaki exhales in relief at the alive status of Mikey, but keeps quiet at the last part while Draken continues in a much more malicious voice. “ Now… You tell me where you’ve been this whole time. As much as Mikey seems to see something in you and gave you your spot in this organization, no one else does and this disappearance   of yourself…”

Kisaki, much the genius, but still a coward, gulps and he has to adjust his glasses while he throws a passing look to the two people by the car, “I know, Draken. I- There was a lead and I took Hanma with me. We’ll be back soon.” “You better,” is all that’s said in response before the deftone signal of the call ending is heard. 

All the way across Japan, on the other side of the phone, Draken swiftly taps the end call button. Even his voice pisses me off… The things I do for Mikey, Draken thinks to himself as he slides his phone back into his pocket and leisurely leans against a cleared off counter. Crossing his arms, he looks back to the center of the break room he’s in. Inui, sleeves rolled up of his suit and a stormy look in his emerald green eyes, stands next to a metal folding chair that holds a person tied up and frantically testing the strength of their ropes. 

“Alright, you can start,” this is the last time Draken will speak in the next two or so hours, assigning himself to just stand by and survey. With a hum of acknowledgment, Inui picks up a nearby makeup bag from a nearby counter and spills its contents out onto a nearby portable manicure table. The metallic clinking of dental tools, the hollow drop of a cheap lighter, and wooden thud of clothespins spread across the table causes the person’s prior silence and struggling to turn demented. 

Settling down in a crouch to look straight into watery honey amber eyes that are framed by cut black hair, Inui keeps a blank and unhelpful expression, “Good Afternoon, ‘Ume’. That’s what Takemichi called you, didn’t he?” The older woman lurches forward in her seat, an unbridled look of revulsion, the cloth gag in her mouth not letting anything but muffled curses spoken. 

“Just tell us what we want to know… and you might get out of this alive.” The lie passes through his thin lips effortlessly. The familiarly loaded gun strapped to the outside of his thigh carrying a heavier presence on his mind.

⠂⠂⠂

Putting his own cell phone away in his suit pocket after making a few other calls, consisting of good news reaching his ears after the eerie first one, Kisaki walks back towards the car. His driver came back during that time and given the others cheap fast food meals, which they are currently devouring, not unlike pigs in his opinion. Dodging around Hanma’s disgusting sauce covered hands, Kisaki hands him napkins before grabbing and shoving Takemichi’s temporarily set down bag to the zombie.

Takemichi perks up at his fast advancing and immediately protests against him touching his bag. He doesn’t know what he would have done, but his stubborn protectiveness flares in his body, making it move and aggressively approach his childhood friend. “Don’t touch my bag, you fucker!”  

“Quiet, Takemichi.” Kisaki turns around, an unexpected syringe of clear liquid appearing in one of his hands, now gloved. He’s quick in the practiced motions of sinking the needle in, simultaneously pushing the fluid through. “You’ve gone as far as you can awake.” Kisaki watches assuredly as the long haired man slaps his gloved hand away while another goes to cover the injection sight. Having purchased the best of the best, it only takes a few short moments for his recognizable blue eyes to roll back into his eyes and Takemichi’s body to sway weakly. 

Their driver, stands behind the target and successfully catches Takemichi as they unwillingly lose consciousness. Moving the light man back to his slumped over seat, he removes his identity concealing hat, revealing bubblegum pink hair styled in a mullet. “Let’s move his ass already. Our king is waiting.”

Chapter Text

Back at the elusive location of Bonten’s headquarters, the formerly monochrome and barely used executive offices are now full of productive motion. Several figures speed walk from and out of different rooms, carrying the likes of paperwork or boxes of whatever their bosses need. The only section of the building that doesn’t seem to be bristling with something to do is the top floor penthouse, lain empty as the decorations Emma arrange stand collecting dust.

Seeing as Mikey’s health had significantly dropped ever since the one year mark of Takemichi being gone hit, Emma and Izana had decided together to keep Mikey close to where his energy was needed; Bonten. While Izana required no convincing to join Toman’s imperial organization at the start, happy to provide brute resources for not only controlling parts of Japan, but to also seek out whoever took the one person resembling Shinichiro, Emma had needed much more compelling. 

Unwanted by her mother, Emma had always kept a tight grasp on her only remaining family and friends. If the somber devotion displayed by her big brother was the experimental cracking in her facade, then the overflowing sadness that she had to experience while consoling Hinata was the breaking point. Many of Toman had lost a reliable friend ten years ago, but to see her best friend lose composure over one person disappearing from her life, Emma had to relent. Knowing if it had been Mikey or Izana that was taken, she’d try every option in getting them back. 

Her heart remains full of guilt, but she doesn’t stray from her approvable. Taking up the role of taking care of Mikey, so if they did find Takemichi one day, he'd be there. Nothing violent, nothing directly incriminating as per her conditions. 

Currently, sticking to her morals and agreement, Emma recedes in a secret location as Mikey’s status is MIA. Both Mikey and Draken had survived the car wreck and returned, but with haunting statements of orders and having to personally ‘take care of loose ends,’ they were just worrying background thoughts in the executives’ minds. Each was assigned sections of the exciting task in preparing to bring their Crybaby Hero back home. 

Mitsuya and Hakkai are busy in their own respective minds in preparing appropriately sized and expensive outfits for their former adorable underling, vividly remembering the awful sense of style the boy had. Although… Mitsuya has to say he is pleased with the long hair Takemichi has grown. Various fabrics and sewing materials are brought to them, boxes piling up in their shared office. 

Outside the office, even more boxes have been dropped off, close to becoming a hazard as Smiley and Angry have to step around them while they walk, brainstorming food recipes while simultaneously distracting the following Ran and Rindou from the others. Although the orange and blue twins were tolerated by the majority of the executives, the same could not be said about the eccentric pair of purple twins. Who have somehow found a small white cat, which they now carry in their arms, petting it like a villain would.

Entering into the building kitchen, Smiley makes haste in listing off the current ingredients they have, Angry quickly writing them down on a clipboard. It’s when Rindou comes up behind the younger twin, tapping Angry on the shoulder with the cat’s paw and taunting in the same manner, that chaos breaks loose. Angry’s pencil snaps in his hand and he doesn’t attempt to stop his brother from trying to fight Rindou, which then turns into him fighting Ran. 

With both enraged and protective men grabbing any kitchen utensil they can find to use, the loud clinking and sounds of fists hitting skin echo throughout the whole level of the floor, before promptly overtaken by another loud noise. A scream. Not a scream of a damsel in distress or someone in pain, but one of anger. 

Emerging from the opening doors of the company elevator, Chifuyu stalks out with emotional fire in his green eyes. He holds a phone to one of his ears, talking animatedly, “ WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE’S MISSING?! ” Silence falls over the floor, even the twins’ fighting ceases. Chifuyu rounds the corner still on the phone as the person on the other side most likely tries to explain and keep their life, leading to his own office, but not before walking past the kitchen. Muttering to himself under his breath, “....Someone knew we were coming…”

Glancing to the side as he walks past, the man with the black undercut sees the Kawata twins paused in their task momentarily, but also the unusual sight of sheepish Haitani with sweat drops on the sides of their heads, still stroking the short fur of the mysterious cat. 

“AND WHY DO YOU OF ALL PEOPLE HAVE A CAT?!”

⠂⠂⠂

Before all the unraveling of their hopes has happened in Bonten’s building, their Crybaby Hero sits unconscious once again. The irony of his first kidnapping being so similar to his current one 

An unknown amount of time has passed when Takemichi starts to wake up from his unprompted drugging. Delirious, he has to blink multiple times to clear the artificial fog over his eyes. Finally seeing clearly, his mind snaps away from being dormant at the situation Takemichi finds himself in. His legs bent under himself, the long haired man is tied tightly to a zaisu with a higher back to it. A cloth gag also tied all the way around his head. 

The room around him can only be described as an attempt at an abandoned warehouse turned into a traditional Japanese tea room. The ceiling is undoubtedly high, but all its windows are covered with plywood, the only light coming from one massive overhead light industrial light bulb. Takemichi is forcefully sitting on top of a rug, a low table in front of him and another zaisu across from him, but it rests empty for the moment. Although there is no air conditioning, the panic that grows throughout his body also creates a sheen of sweat all over his pale skin. 

With the booming shrieking of metal grinding against metal, Takemichi’s eyes and ears cringe painfully as a large rusty door behind him is opened. Turning his head as much as his binds will permit, he hates that a little part in his mind is surprised at who he sees. Dressed in the same clothes as when they had first kidnapped him, Kisaki walks in with Hanma in toe, still holding the purring traitor Miruku. 

As those two men walk to stand next to the tea table set in front of Takemichi, he hears two more sets of footsteps coming closer from the, now shutting, door behind him. Looking up at the new people, the black pupil of his eye tightens together as his eyelids pull back in fear and astonishment. Dressed in striped suits and guns in hand, Ran and Rindou Haitani stand next to his other side. Rindou keeps a trained arm with a loaded pistol aimed at his head, while Ran looks as disinterested as he possibly could. 

Full-body shaking floods through Takemichi and characteristic tears start to build in his eyes. Fear had become a close figure in Takemichi’s life, but usually he was able to fight against it with his determination… This was not one of those times. He was cornered… He was scared; scared for himself for once. See? This was going to be the end. There’s no happy ending for you as long as you live parallel with time..!

Broken from his thoughts, eyes slowly leaking their light out with his crystal tears, Takemichi flinches when Kisaki roughly grabs his face. Strenuous breaths rack his body as the thin tan hand belonging to the other man feels like burning brands on his cheeks. Sweat, saliva, tears, and watery snot beginning to soak into his cloth gag as blue eyes stare angrily into gleeful lighter blue eyes. “Listen well to me well, Hanagaki Takemichi! I haven’t hunted you down and used many of my precious resources for you to ruin this moment. You’re gonna do what I say and if you don’t…”

Takemichi can feel the muzzle of Rindou’s pistol press against his head as Kisaki mutters his words with intense focus. “I hope you’re smart enough to get the idea.” As Kisaki is done reprimanding him, he tosses his stiff hand away from his grasp, straightening himself back up to his full height as he anxiously buttons his suit jacket together while looking at another rusty door behind the second empty zaisu. After a few more moments the metallic muzzle moves away as Rindou steps to join his brother once again. 

Takemichi’s hand hangs low in his seat, the braid in his hair falling alongside his head. It sways in the stale air as a panic attack progresses through their target. Hearing the tell tale jagged puffs of breath and the seizing of Takmeichi’s muscles, Kisaki huffs in annoyance before snapping his fingers from Hanma to their victim. Handing Miruku off to Ran, Hanma unties the gag from Takemichi’s mouth, so he doesn’t pass out. They had a meeting any moment now and to have him faint would ruin it. 

While he appreciates the gag being removed and his lungs begin to fill themselves with more air, all Takemichi’s head can wrap itself around is mocking phrases such as, Takemichi, you were never in control. Everything you saw and everyone you knew was planned. 

None of that life was real. Only this moment is real. 

You’ll never have any other life than this, you know?

…

No one helps him again while he begins to slowly recover from his icy panic and terror. His own exhales and inhales can not yet be controlled, but at the sound of the rusty door Kisaki was observing opens, the breaths of his kidnappers catch in their own throats.

Chapter Text

With bated breaths, Kisaki is quick to welcome the incoming guests in a  respectful, but not exactly warm tone, “Tozawa Munekage… and bodyguards I’m assuming.” The name Tozawa Munekage doesn’t go over the head of the tied up man, it’s not familiar but the look of the pudgy old man with a grown out buzz cut of white hair does alert something in Takemichi’s mind. The man walks with a gold cane, which Takemichi wouldn’t doubt is real, and  in a casual navy blue suit. 

His ‘bodyguards’ are all taller, younger, and muscular men that walk only a pace behind the elder. The black kevlar uniforms they all wear also bear the infamous symbols of the Uramoto Pargaon, bringing a shiver to roll down Takemichi’s spine. It becomes apparent that these people don’t only mean strict business…

In a gruff and hoarse voice, the old man looks at Kisaki with an expression akin to disinterest. Settling down into the zaisu across from Takemichi, Tozawa finally makes eye contact with the tan man, grasping his hands together on top of the table. “Kisaki Tetta; Acting like a fool gets you nowhere. Now… this is who you have promised me?” The old man, his skin wrinkly and discolored, moves his eyes from Kisaki down to Takemichi’s own. A feeling of bugs rushing underneath the long haired man’s skin appears as Tozawa pins him with an objectifying gaze. His confidence and trust in his bodyguards impresses Takemichi in a bad way. 

Clearing his throat, Kisaki steps closer to Takemichi, but keeps his eyes questionably on the bodyguards. “Of course… this may or may not be him, but I’m afraid bodyguards weren’t a part of our deal.” A stormy glare transfers from his past childhood friend to the inferred leader of the Uramoto Pargaon. Tozawa’s lips pressed together in discontent and his head nodded to Kisaki’s own men behind them, Ran, Rindou, and Hanma. The tan man is quick to assure the other party, “They’ll be leaving too. And as you can see-,” he opens his arms and allows visual inspection of him, “- I am unarmed.”

“Who do you think you are?! I’m the only one that's given you time and security in Chiba from the Kurugiza! I gave you one of my best female bodyguards to watch over this rumored ‘miracle worker’!”

“And I’m the one that’s going to give you the fortune teller … unless you want me to notify Bonten of your presence in these streets?”

After some minutes pass with nothing but silence, Tozawa eventually relents with a sigh, waving his hand around in order for his bodyguards to clear out. Without a word, they walk forward and leave through the door behind Takemichi, the Haitani twins and Hanma following shortly behind them. With the tell tale shrieking of the door opening and closing once again, it almost feels like a signature on his death certificate. Takemichi might not have had the best grades in school when he was still attending, but he would have to be much more stupid to see where this was going. 

Now, the only people presumed to be in the warehouse are Kisaki, Takemichi, and Tozawa. One standing, two sitting. As Kisaki lets out a sigh, relieved to have gotten through to the boss, but he is wrong. Upon his next inhale, a hidden bodyguard steps out of the shadows behind Kisaki, hitting him over the head with a wooden baseball bat. A sharp “Thwack!” and crack of the wood against bone rings through Takemichi’s ears, his flinching and struggling against the chair continues with new lit eagerness. 

“KISAKI! Wha- no, no, no, no…. Please, please don’t…” His voice takes on a higher pitch. As much as a feeling of hate comes over him whenever he hears Kisaki’s name, Takemichi had recognized the man as his only string of protection in his exchange. But that string had just been cut. The heavy thud of his body hitting the concrete ground and not moving. Unable to turn and see the sight, Takemichi’s head was brought back to facing Tozawa by the blunt end of his gold cane. 

“Now… in order for you- and your cat, I guess, to stay alive, you just need to do a little reading for me, ok? Do you understand?” The younger man’s cornflower blue eyes don’t stray from the yakuza boss’ dark brown eyes. The assailant of Kisaki’s attack walks back to his boss and hands him cushions and a bottle of what seems to be sake. Arranging the cushion between his old bones and the hard wood of the zaisu, Tozawa takes a small swing of sake before looking back expectantly at Takemichi. 

His tied hands are cut loose by the other bodyguard, but Takemichi pulls them close to his chest, unwilling to unball his fists. The only thing left he releases he has is his words and defiance, “P-please, it won’t give you what you want! You have to realize that this won’t change anything, you can’t escape fate..! No one does!”

Tozawa snarls at him in anger, “Don’t give me that bullshit!”, and lunges across the low table, roughly grabbing his hand. His fists stay curled around themselves and Takemichi tries his best to turn his body away, but the singeing of his scalp as his braid is tugged by Tozawa’s bodyguard weakens him. “Stop!” He calls out one last time, as his hand unfurls and his soft skin comes into contact with the dry loose skin of the old man. In an instance, Takemichi feels like the electrifying course of his power flows through his nerves. 

Squeezing his eyes shut as the charged waves of his mind and body from settling into the future decrease in frequency, Takemichi bites his lips anxiously, waiting to will himself to open his eyes. To his astonishment, when he opens his eyes, he’s still there in the abandoned warehouse. 

Takemichi’s eyebrows narrow in confusion, but also suspense as he looks around slowly. He can feel as the yakuza boss rubs his thumbs across Takemichi’s soft hands, commenting on them to no one specifically, “Y’know, they say that if a person has soft hands, then that person has never known a life of hardship…” His sentence drifts off as his eyes casually drift back up to the fortune teller’s own pair of frightened eyes. 

The aware and unusually confused facial expression of Takemichi irks the old man, causing him to pause and think to himself with a fading glee smile. The younger man is still quivering, still terrified, like nothing happened. Did nothing happen? Is this ladyboy some kind of scam?! Tozawa begins to think, spiraling in his mind. His grasp on Takemichi turns even rougher, edging into the territory of bruising and pain.

“Well, you bastard..? What’d you see?!” He begins to shout at the equally confused and alarmed ravenette, as the dread grows in his body. “Don’t tell me I just wasted all my resources on this son of a bitch! M-make something up, or he dies here!” The old man, so livid and loud that spit starts to fly from his mouth, whilst pointing to Kisaki’s unconscious and unmoved body. Another panic attack begins climbing up his throat and clogging his racing brain. 

Just then, the heavy metal door behind Tozawa is kicked off its hinges open from outside. A thunderous bangs fills the whole warehouse with noise as the door panel hits the concrete floor, a large man stands with his hands in his pockets in the doorway. Is that…? “TAIJU?!” Takemichi shouts excitedly, both he and Tozawa looking over to the forced entry in opposite moods. 

Hearing the voice of an angel say his name, Taiju’s face pulls into a wide, pleased smirk, stepping to the side of the entrance. Behind him, Takemichi can feel a migraine begin to develop in his head as a gun wielding Sanzu and short haired Mikey walk into the dusty building. Effectively shooting the approaching bodyguard, Sanzu forgoes the Uramoto Paragon boss, moving over to Kisaki. 

Gritting his teeth together, as soon as the old man barely motions to get closer to Takemichi, a bullet blasts its way into his temple. His body falls limp over the table, his grip loosening on soft hands of the younger man, and blood gushes from his head to cover all surfaces around him. In the background of the ringing shot, Mikey tucks away his own gun and Sanzu has started to drag Kisaki’s unconscious body away.

Feeling the warmth start to slip from the loose skin of Tozawa and seeing droplets of the crimson liquid fly through the air as the tip of the bullet punctures through flesh and bone, Takemichi’s eyes go blank in shock. He was using his power. These were Tozawa’s last moments… echoes in his mind. Takemichi is slow to remove his hand from the dead ones, absentmindedly watching as the red elixir of life trails from the old man’s head. Clots of brain and short white hair mingling on top of Tozawa’s cushion and clothes.

Chapter Text

His shoulders slump, lips quivering uncontrollably in search of words that he can't even express, and his lobelia blue eyes produce ever flowing tears that roll down his pale cheeks. As Takemichi’s traumatized eyes keep running over the deservingly deceased man in front of him, a strong shadow is cast over him, drawing his attention. With red rimmed eyes and a look of disbelief, Takemichi turns his head to make eye contact with the shadow’s owner. Mikey stands to the side of the tied up man. Mikey had saved him. Again.

Akin to when they had first met all those years ago in the fighting rings, Mikey crouches down and covers the back of the ravenette’s head with his hand, pressing their foreheads together. More tears begin to blur his vision, but Takemichi still looks into the eyes of his other half in fidelity. Dull sapphire meets abyss black framed by delicate blonde eyelashes. The outside world could be on fire at this moment, but they wouldn’t notice at all.

While having always been, and always will be, black irises, this older Mikey’s eyes are missing vital details that had contributed to their allure. Cursed by dark impulses, his eyes held swirling and withering black damnation in them, but… they also had sparks of light. Shards of brazen gold littered around his pupil, lifting the hopelessness of his windows to his soul. Accurately showing that even through his invincible strength and life accustomed to pain, Mikey could still shine with happiness. The refreshing and childish air that had surrounded him testified to this. 

But now… the once impossibly bright shards had tarnished, becoming ghosts of the past. Their gold luster having been stripped and replaced by translucent pearlescence, inciting a feeling of guilt in Takemichi as the long haired man searches for the unique glimmering like a lost child. Look at what you did to him, Takemichi.

  You caused this! 

Born with selfish powers, doomed to drive everyone around you to extreme lengths of suffering while terrorizing your own mind. 

This was bound to happen; and it has !

Taken back by the absence of the joy in Mikey’s eyes, Takemichi feels like a hypocrite, knowing first hand that his own blue eyes had turned darker, duller; affected by being without purpose for far too long. 

Their hair had also changed tremendously. While Takemichi couldn’t afford losing his hair’s memories and the attached feelings of his past, Mikey’s blonde locks had been cut short. It felt like in comparison to Takemichi, brimming with emotion, Mikey had poured all of his out, a hole in the bottom of his bowl. The thought alone of what his hair and eyes entail scares the long haired man, bringing new weepy beads to the edges of his eyes. His cheeks heat in exhaustion while snot and salty tears track down his face  and soak through Takemichi’s dirty clothes. Sobbing with the conflicting feelings of happiness and love, but also guilt, sorrow, and lastly… relief. 

With the strong, but bony, hand releasing their heads from their connection, Takemichi pulls back only a centimeter, the only distance of space he can allow himself to produce between the two of them. Takemichi’s body racks with tearful weeping, a shaky smile appearing on his face despite the current events and turmoil inside himself. Mikey’s hands move diligently to untie his treasure while the rest of his body finds surreal satisfaction in the completion of his ultimate goal. “I promised us both– ten years ago, that I’d get you back…Takemitchy. My Mitchy. ” “M-mikey-kun..!”

Although rightfully impatient, Mikey had spent all those years of separation with the sole dedication of his life to finding Takemichi. Money, fame, and justice held no value to him anymore. His mind had been infected by only thoughts of his other half and the berration of his own failure in protecting the one person closest to him.

Emma and Draken understood how to take care of their brother, Toman knew how to entertain their commander, but it was only Takemichi that truly knew his soul. And now, surrounded by hazardous dust, unkempt metal, and sin, Manjiro Sano felt as if his heart had just been restored to its space underneath his ribs. The rope, maintaining the darked haired beauty to the seat, snapping away with little effort as Mikey’s muscles were rejuvenated with a single word from Takemichi. 

The triple-crosser, Kisaki, had made sure to secure Takemichi well, Mikey was still removing tight ropes from around the ravenette as Sanzu called out to his boss, “The building is clear! Let’s move him out before it starts swarming with the police.” The new voice catches Takemichi’s attention and he quickly turns his head in the direction of his past fellow Toman member. Albeit Takemichi had taken his eyes off of Mikey, the shorter man didn’t want to let his eyesight wander off of the tied man, afraid that he would disappear if he did. 

 New tension is brought to his muscles, adding nostalgia and anxiety to the nauseating mixture of emotions he already possesses. If Kisaki, Hanma, the Haitani twins, Taiju, and Sanzu were now under the power and ministry of Mikey, then there was no doubt in his mind that Toman had survived and grew all these years. All of his friends and family had found him. 

It takes a moment for Takemichi to realize that along with his physical bonds having been taken off of him, his mental chains have too. Pushing himself away from the zaisu in an explosion of speed, Takemichi crashes into the malnourished body of Mikey, almost sending them both to the ground in a tight embrace. “Mikey..! I–” the words are lost in his catching breaths and the pounding of his heartbeat. 

Recovering quickly from the surprise embrace, Mikey’s arms work to wrap around his long lost lover’s torso, grounding themselves and proclaiming in action instead of verbality, that he was here. Takemichi can not heed himself about how soar the edges of his eyes will be later due to his excessive crying. He can’t do anything else, but sob and finally, finally let out the anguish his soul has endured to keep his loved ones safe. His hands clench the robin egg blue fabric that is Mikey’s shirt and lays his heavy head onto one shoulder.

Sanzu makes another rushed remark to Mikey before Takemichi is then lifted up into another embrace by the arms around him. The trust that Takemichi’s mind and body hands over to Mikey is automatic, he works to settle into the lean arms and firm chest that now carry him. The younger man rests his ear against the center of the chest, shutting his exhausted eyes that have stopped crying, busy with listening to the thumping of the other’s heart beating. 

Upon walking out of the warehouse, Takemichi squints one of his eyes open at the noise of a car being turned on and new additional voices. Glancing over his surroundings, Mikey carries him leisurely to an awaiting heavy duty car while Taiju gets into the driver's seat. Sitting on the curb of the street, Takemichi observes Sanzu talking animatedly with Ran, Rindou, and Hanma. All around them are splashes of blood and splayed out bodies of the bodyguards dismissed outside earlier. The blue eyed man can’t seem to make himself care at the moment. 

Approaching the open backseat of the car, Mikey doesn’t let go of his hold on Takemichi. The older man settles in the middle seat and arranges for the younger to sit in the seat next to him, moving the long haired man to lean against him instead of the shutting car door. Takemichi lays his head limp against Mikey, even if the other was still a little shorter than him. The ravenette with blonde tips watches in dissociation as Mikey reaches across his body, buckling him in before the car starts to leave and the view of an old fishing dock with warehouses moves past the window. 

There’s no music on and another opaque black divider is between Taiju and them, leaving both men to their own minds. Thinking back to the deaths he’s seen, the money people gained from him, and the hysterical voices that plague his hopes, Takemichi’s eyes can’t water anymore but quiet whimpers are heard muffled from his straining lips. “Takemitchy?” Mikey asks in soft concern, like he hadn’t just shot a leader of a yakuza. “I’m bad luck, Mikey… P-please, I shouldn’t be around you– o-or anyone at all. There’s a curse on me and it will h-hurt you too…!”

His head hangs low, staring at his feet on the floor of the car as all that meets his outburst is unprompted silence. Suddenly, the warm body that Takemichi was leaning on shifts and he falls down onto Mikey’s lap. Looking up, he makes eye contact again with the melancholic inky irises of his past commander as nimble fingers weave through his hair, sliding the braid’s holder off and brushing through the well kept locks of his hair, occasionally scratching against his tingling scalp. 

Mikey continues to admire the growth of his eyelashes and the length of his wavy hair, pausing in a brief moment of shock at the yellow bleached ends, before smiling down. A smile that has not been used since ten years ago, now directed at the apple of his eye, while the other lies still in unobjective confusion. “Silly Mitchy~ Everything will be alright…” Mikey looks out the window for a moment, then turns back and asks casually, “I’m hungry. Do you want to get some taiyaki on our way home?”

The still confused, still nauseated from the raging sea of emotions inside, Takemichi nods his head absentmindedly, knowing all too well that Mikey won’t be listening to his whims anymore. The fortune teller’s thoughts drifting to the statement of ‘home’ instead, the ‘our’ including him and other people in it. As his eyelids grow heavy because of the soothing fingertips of his lover, Hanagaki Takemichi has no idea of what his future entails. For once.

Chapter Text

Time has passed and Takemichi slowly wakes up to the sound of Taiju and Mikey talking, their voices hushed so as not to unintentionally wake up the other passenger. Opening his eyes from his delirious slumber, Takemichi sees Mikey in the same position as when he had fallen asleep, but leaned forward to speak through a hole in the car’s divider. Looking out the tinted windows, the man’s indigo eyes widen as the car pulls up to the entrance to an underground parking lot, Taiju having rolled down his own window to speak to a stationary guard. The guard wears opaque sunglasses, a wired earpiece, and a solid white kevlar uniform while his hands hold a seemingly loaded military rifle. 

It’s not even a minute before they are waved in and Taiju makes a snarky remark under his breath, something about the guards payroll and asking for an ID? Takemichi doesn’t even attempt to understand the antsy muttering of the large man as he unconsciously sits up, amazed by the sight of what is inside the garage. There are rows upon rows of the same military looking cars, motorcycles, and then exclusive appearing sports cars in various bright colors. More of the security guards are seen at attention all around the space. Kami… what kind of career could even afford all of this? Takemichi thinks uneasily at the displayed wealth. 

Stealing his attention from watching the outside world, one of Mikey’s hands brushes a strand of black hair back behind his shoulder, Takemichi turning his head to look timidly at the shorter man. “W-where are we, Mikey-kun?” He uttered. 

“We’re home. You’ll get to meet everyone soon; they’re really excited!” Mikey cheered, his dark eye bags accentuated with the sly pleased look on his face. Contrary to the reaction Mikey was expecting, the explanation steals the air from Takemichi’s lungs. The ravenette’s leg started to rapidly bounce and his eyes darting around in unsure anticipation. Who was everyone? Surely that’s Toman, but what if there’s new people..? Who is he kidding, Takemichi would pick meeting new people over reuniting with his past friends that practically know the very fiber of his being! What if they’re mad at him… What if they blame him? They should. You were the one that abandoned them! Trying your best to not forget them, but not willing to seek them out once you were free. You’re a coward and they know that!

Fallen into a downward spiral of self-loathing, the voices don’t stop until it seems a stick has broken the bubble around his head and Takemichi is brought back to the current moment again. The car has stopped moving in front of a walking entrance to several elevators embedded in bare concrete walls. The ‘stick’ being one of Mikey’s fingers poking his bouncing pale cheek. 

His lover proceeds to unbuckle him from the seat, moving to open the door as well, but it swings open with a gush of wind from another person. ”Eh–?!” An arm grabs Takemichi’s bicep, pulling him from the car and into a tight hug by the now recognizable figure. “Partner! You have no idea how much I’ve missed you. Never disappear again!”

As soon as Chifuyu had heard that Takemichi was not in fact missing and shortly arriving at the Bonten headquarters, he careened quickly down to the garage. Giving his best friend no grace period, the man with a solid black undercut immediately brings his partner into his arms. His head settled onto one of his shoulders, rising after a few moments to see the death glare that Mikey was pinning him with from behind Takemichi. Chifuyu responds with his own emerald eyes narrowing in defiance. 

It’s clear the blue eyed man doesn’t know what to do besides hug back as Chifuyu doesn’t move away from the other, instead his hands start to roam across the smaller man’s body. His fingertips press down, mapping the unblemished skin under his dirty clothes, promptly ignoring the spinal shiver of the man he was checking over for wounds or unusual growths. 

A few meters away from the awkward group of men, another car pulls up behind. Getting out from the backseat is Draken while Inui gets out of the driver’s, walking into an awaiting elevator without a glance around. Draken exhales at the tension lining Inui’s form as he walks away, the scarred man was so uptight and cautious that Takemichi was back that he was strongly adamant at showering well before meeting the man again. Casting Inui from his mind and their prior deed, which he will clarify that neither of them feel bad about, Draken’s washed hands are shoved in his pockets as he looks back over to his best friend and executive. 

Peering off to the side nonchalantly, it’s when Draken recognizes the silent raging look on Mikey’s face that he quickly walks himself over to pry Chifuyu off of the other poor man. “Ok! That’s enough now, Chifuyu. You’ll get more time later to feel him up.” 

“WHA–?!” Takemichi squawks while blushing. The noise still sounded the same as it had in the past when the captains used to tease him or make outlandish comments. Ignoring the other party in that act, Chifuyu just squints his eyes before sighing and walking away to the same elevator Inui had gone up before. 

Pushing the weird interaction with Chifuyu out of his mind, Takemichi thinks to himself, I really hope those yaoi manga didn’t mess up my partner… , before facing himself with the tall, now black hair braided man. Mikey working on sending the car away with another one of the mysteriously intimidating guards. “Draken! …Oh my Kami… I still can’t believe you guys found me. I thought my case was closed…?” 

“Hey, you saved my buddy’s ass ten years ago. There’s no way that we would have given up on you.” Draken’s voice is reassuring and stoic, just as Takemichi’s memories proved; however, his reference to saving Baji-san all those years ago does add a pound of weight to his heart. Without voicing his concerns and before brushing off the praise, the taller man leans down to whisper into the shorter man’s ear. His hand covering his mouth as his shining black eyes look at, pretending not to be eavesdropping, Mikey. “Besides… that guy couldn’t stop talking about you in middle school during our days of Toman, so there was no way he was ever going to stop after. 

His voice holds a light chuckle at both the situation of the lovebirds, but also solely at his past pining friend. Takemichi tries his best to swallow down the rock in his throat and the blooming blush on his cheeks when the obsidian black eyes of his dreams peer over in his direction. Strolling back to the two closest people to him, a childish pout settles on his face as he analyzes the rosy coloring on Takemichi’s cheeks before looking accusingly at Draken. 

“Ken-chinnnnnnn, what did you just tell Takemitchy?” Now the blue eyed man in question tries even harder to control his receding embarrassment, taking it as a blazing compliment. Draken too tries to dodge the questioning of the even shorter man; a happiness growing in his mind at the familiar behavior Mikey expresses. He hadn’t been so bratty in a while, it was concerning, but now Takemichi is back and there’s no one better for Mikey. “Enough, you spoiled brat, you guys were late and everyone else is starving.” The ‘ either for food or Takemichi’ goes unsaid. 

Guided to a different elevator than what Chifuyu and Inui had gone through, Takemichi steps inside and gets pushed to the back of the space as Mikey and Draken make sure to stand between him and the doors. This action only registers to the long-haired man halfway through the ride, watching as the level numbers light up and dim once passed, the floor the doors finally open being the fourth to the top. Takemichi’s nervousness has been bubbling up, pressurizing inside of him, until it’s like he can not hear anything over the fizzle of his own cursed thoughts. 

The resounding ding of the elevator arriving at its destination piercing through his delusions; and a cold lithe pinky finger intertwines with his own, pulling Takemichi along. It's just enough of a reassurance for the younger man, but not enough to trigger his power. Nonetheless, he still flinches back a breath width, watched under the dark eyes of his best friends. Squeezing Mikey’s finger once more as they get out and walk down luxuriously red Japandi styled hallways, the nervous man reiterates again in his mind, What the hell kind of work does Toman do?! This shit looks expensive!

The clinking of their footsteps echo throughout the clean and frankly cold hallway, adding an ominous beat to Takemichi’s heart. Getting closer and closer to a pair of grand oak doors with carvings of the sun, moon, and traditional japanese dragons, all of Takemichi’s anxiety has built itself up until this point. Approaching them, just about to open, he feels a strange calm begin to rush over himself like a waterfall. One final squeeze of his last finger coming from Mikey. 

Chapter Text

Pushing open the heavy doors, an acclamation of loud voices erupting in greetings floods through the trio’s ears. While Takemichi stares at the giant circular table with most seats full of his past comrades or rivals, Mikey stays by his side to look on with a small approving grin. Draken’s smile grows bigger than the shorter’s as he is the first one to separate and allow for the Toman executives to crowd the long haired man. 

In an instant, Hakkai, Chifuyu, Baji, and Kazutora quickly close in on the poor man. They all gasp before letting out their own sentiments, “Y-you’re here!” “Partner!” “Takemichi!”. If it weren’t for how sore his eyes were and the heavy dehydration of his body, Takemichi would no doubt be crying through his wide eyes and aching cheeks as his smile grows. For so long, he had held onto the stories of his past. For so long, he had been growing his hair and now only at this moment, does Takemichi start to feel like his inky black hair is glowing golden like ten years ago.

Throughout reaching out to touch the sleeve of his long lost friends, just to make sure they were real, Takemichi’s eye catches onto each and every single change. The lighter blue of Hakkai’s buzzed hair, the all black dye of Chifuyu’s, the additional piercings in Baji’s ears… and the opaque black and blonde halo of Kazutora’s shoulder length hair. 

The last person of the group to greet Takemichi is Kazutora, his tone excited but still musters an undertone of hesitation, “Onjin..!” The memory of Takemichi saving him and Baji during Halloween echoing in his dark mind. No matter what Baji would try to get his best friend to cheer up, nothing worked until they would get their Crybaby Hero home, hence why his smile is the widest and fiercest it has ever been. They had fought a battle for ten years and won. 

Feeling a sort of realization at the same nervousness that Kazutora possesses, although it’s obviously for another reason, the matured lines on Takemichi’s face grew softer looking at the tiger man. “Hey..” the ravenette draws out; so much meaning behind the common phrase that only Kazutora and Baji can truly decipher. Fortunately, it brings a healthy warmth to Kazutora’s face while Baji butts into the conversation brashly, “You’ve been gone for so goddamn long and all you have to say first is HEY?!”

Before the friend group can start spilling their life stories and catch up, a harsh voice calls out to them from the table, “Quit hogging Hanagaki! It’s not like you guys did all the work!” 

The comment brings out a bubbly chuckle from Takemichi, mostly out of embarrassment from being the focus of this dinner, but also from a hint of confusion at the second part. It was miraculous that Toman had found him again, after he tried so hard to be hidden from both police and yakuza alike… With the scent of luxurious meat broths and steamed vegetables swimming into his nose, Takemichi drops the topic in his mind, for now.

As he finally sits down in a pulled out seat next to Mikey, Chifuyu unwilling to move from him and changing his seat to the other side of Takemichi, private servers have already begun to fill the table with many various food dishes. His eyes are glazed with amazement at the plethora of choices, the other men in the room likewise practically rubbing their hands together. In the last few months, Takemichi has had to change his tongue’s palette from the Kurugiza’s luxurious tastes to instead the middle class food, but now it seems he’ll be able to indulge in his past favorites. 

Minutes fly by as family, friends, and not-so-friends talk among each other and dig into their own portions of food. The sounds of eating and pouring of drinks filter through Takemichi’s ears absentmindedly as he is in his own conversation with Koko and Inui from across the table. As they talk cordially about inheritance money and bank accounts, topics that Koko is fond of and ones that Takemichi had to learn in a rush, an obnoxious end of a conversation floats to the air around the table. “...I mean, barely conscious… took her to my penthouse and I freaked it-”

Suddenly, the bowl of rice Chifuyu had been eating from was slammed down onto the table’s surface and his chopsticks pointed aggressively at Takeomi and Ran, “DON’T TALK ABOUT THAT HERE! Takemichi’s present and that crude stuff might trigger him!” Along with everyone else, Takemichi’s chewing stops and a few beats of silence prevails. Almost as if they had just talked about the elephant in the room, Takeomi and Ran’s eyebrows raise in genuine surprise, “Ah… sorry there Takemichi.” “...my apologies.”

With a confused, and also frankly disgusted, scrunching of his nose and eyebrows, Takemichi’s head is patted roughly by his partner as he seems to calm down. The mood swing also drew a dazed look out of his blue eyes. “Yeah, you should be! …it’s ok now, Partner, we know you might have some new trauma , but we’re willing to work around it!”

“Ehh… what? Do you guys think- I- they- what? I haven’t been raped!” Takemichi feels a weird sense to defend himself about this assumption. The thought hadn’t really crossed his dumb mind through the time he spent with the Kurugiza. They treated him like royalty; a golden goose, which he kind of was to them.

“. . . wait, really?” Takemichi shakes his head slowly. It’s bizarre how some people around the table, like Mitsuya, Kakucho, Pey-yan, and Pah-chin seem perplexed by this answer. “But you have such a cute face; those people didn’t try anything at all? Not even a little bit?”

“NO! Oh my Kami,” Takemichi has set down his food and runs a hand across his face. It seems like he should really clear this up. “No. ‘Those people’ kept me in a normal house and assigned me a handler who pretended to be my ‘uncle’.”

At this admission, a flurry of quiet sighs around the table can be heard. The keen look in Chifuyu’s eyes blows away with relief, but also a heaping amount of embarrassed blush grows on his face. Straightening his work shirt, he sits back down with a fake stoic expression and resumes eating, avoiding the dumbfounded look from Takemichi. On the other side of the lobelia eyed man, Mikey’s shoulders had untensed by a millimeter and glancing at his treasure, he slowly moved some of his food onto Takemichi’s plate. 

Across from the scene, Emma, Draken, Benkei, and Wakasa watch the midget get caught putting half of his portion of pork belly onto Takemichi’s plate, the long haired man turning to scold the other for taking too much off his own plate. Emma knew that MIkey’s health wouldn’t be immediately recovered as soon as their Crybaby Hero came back, but they were grateful for the first small steps. 

The celebration dinner was easily a success, albeit it was not without its small challenges. Putting so many rowdy men in a room would always be a recipe for chaos, but luckily, with enough threatening on Mikey’s part, they behaved cordially for the most part. After the servers had brought out glasses of expensive wine, which Takemichi politely declined from just not liking the bitter taste, and small plates of dessert; the dinner was slowing down to an end. 

As the moon shined even brighter in the dark sky, portions of his now renewed friends came up to him one at a time, wishing their Crybaby Hero a good night and occasionally giving a regal gift to him, then the gangsters were off to presumably their own homes. Hakkai left at the same time as Mitsuya, but not before they both dropped off a large ribbon bound kraft paper box. 

Untying the velvety red ribbon with care, Takemichi’s lungs inflate in surprise at the contents inside the box. His, or more so Mikey’s old, original Toman uniform with hand sewn embroidery of his lucky green leaf necklace newly added to above the left breast pocket, the location of his heart. “Woah… Mitsuya, it’s amazing! I can’t believe you guys saved my uniform.” 

The lavender haired man, the only change being the longer length of his hair and the shiny platinum highlights in his hair, chuckles graciously at the younger man’s praise. “Of course, Takemichi. Of course we would save that, it’s a pivotal part of Toman’s history!” The warmth of his palm as it claps gently against Takemichi’s shoulder is welcomed as the pair exits the dining room like everyone else. The jubilant smile on both his and Mikey’s faces yielding an uplifting outlook to what might be the fortune teller’s future. For once and only once.

⠂⠂⠂

It’s after the dinner party, when all their friends had gone home or whatever club they had planned that night, Mikey has dragged Takemichi up to the top floor of the building, his private home. Settled into Mikey’s living room couch as the TV shows some kind of movie, not that either of them are paying attention. Takemichi’s eyes shine like the dull surface of the moon, with stars illuminating it to be seen by the people of earth, Manjiro. 

Stomach full of delicious food and his muscle’s tension relaxed by the effervescent evening’s reunion with all his friends, his eyelids grow weighted but something still lays heavy on his mind…

Chapter Text

Splayed out comfortably on the soft fabric of Mikey’s couch and molding into the older man sitting next to him, Takemichi is content with the warmth surrounding him at the moment. Lithe fingertips lightly trail along the fair skin of his arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake as they travel higher. Admiring all that is Takemichi, his youthful beauty and his maturing wrinkles, Mikey’s captivated by the black haired man. His other half.

The sliver of strength he puts into his short nails pressing against the back of his neck is enough to leave minor red crescents to marry the blemishless skin of Takemichi. Quiet puffs of air leave the younger man’s slightly ajar mouth at the feeling, his mind slipping into a different dimension of trust that he wasn’t used to in years. Similar to the weak seeking out the comfort of the strong, a sapphire moth seeks out a single flame in an atmosphere of darkness. 

The heaviness of the reality that his Crybaby Hero is really with him now, and forever, settles deep into Mikey’s bones. As much as Takemichi and his tortured mind would love nothing else than to live peacefully once again in his past, delusions are dangerous and he knows that all too well. With the TV’s colors is the only light illuminating the penthouse, the rays shade in the curves of Takemichi’s face and the waves of his abyss locs. Raising his head languidly away from a bony shoulder, his hands curling into the fabric of Mikey’s shirt, and two pairs of equally damaged eyes meet in silence. Tones of ever moving purples, reds, blues, and white light shine against his cheeks and around the liquid covering his eyes. 

“Manjiro…” Said man tilts his head faintly at the melancholy yearning of his given name, “I- are we a-alone? Right now?” Takemichi adds, the rhythm of their heartbeat fluttering out of measure. The question acts as both legitimate, but also stringing along an onerous intention.

“Of course, Mitchy. I won’t allow for anyone else here…” Despite the sparse light, the TV perfectly illuminates the dry waterline of his obsidian eyes. Takemichi’s throat bobbing with a gulp. Good. That was good… Takemichi is the only one that should be able to fill their portion of the universe with Manjiro. 

Exhaling in a contrasting cool environment, “I wouldn’t either— but… I’m scared, Manjiro.” Searching the eyes of his lover while his words sink into the other, the grounding action of Takemichi’s hands still grasping tightly onto Mikey keeping the other’s confused anger at a minimum. The indication that something scares his Mitchy or the reminder of how easily he had lost him flairs the brutal obsession lurking close beneath his flesh. 

“There’s a seedling of guilt inside me… I can feel it alive in the humidity of my stomach. Its stem is growing and rattling under the coverage of the seed’s coating, waiting to break through and root itself onto my organs…” A baited air of silence as Takemichi’s eyes wander away from Mikey’s. He continues in a slow pace, applying feathery conviction to everyone of his words.

“There was a reason–,” a struggling sigh puffs from his chest tick in confliction, “a reason I chose not to return back to you… I didn’t want to forget, but I couldn’t– can’t imagine a normal life with you or Toman.”

A mysterious and cloudy look consumes Mikey’s concerned face as he listens, his nose scrunching shortly before relaxing again. “Takemichi… I can’t live without you,” he says with genuine vigor as his cold hands now encroach on the fortune teller’s. “I can’t love anyone else, please understand me. I’ve only ever loved you and I’ll continue to only ever love you.” Searching through the wide eyes of his other half, Mikey is discontent without finding any inkling of agreed comprehension.

“If it was the other way around, would you have searched for me?” Mikey presses Takemichi, knowing the answer, but desperate to hear it from the other man. His usually slow and lucid mind is currently spiralling deeper and deeper into his dark impulses. Although everyone knew they would never leave, they had hoped that the natural darkness in Mikey had ceased with Takemichi back in his grasp. 

Like an arrow piercing through his heart, the ravenette is reminded of his greatest weakness and strength. Their acidic love. “...Yes. Without hesitation.” He replies, his tone strangled. Despite the conjoined quivering of their tangled limbs and the uneven ground that they both metaphorically stand on, Takemichi is not a person to shy away from pain. His brain begins to follow a path of curiosity, having the pieces for the puzzle, but needing to figure out the right combination.

Finally, the lobelia eyed man asks, “Manjiro… How did you find me?”

Trepidation locks up Mikey’s skeletal frame, his hands not stopping their wispy circular motions against Takemichi. He knew their conversation had been bordering on dangerous waters and that his lover would ask this question some time. Mikey could not convince himself to lie. 

His immediate reluctance irks Takemichi. What exactly could contain Toman and many other past gang members under one roof, one ideology that prospers wealth..?

“There’s only one way, my love… The same way you were taken from us so many years ago,” the black eyelashes that protect the fortune teller’s precious eyes widen frightful, the puzzle pieces fitting together in his mind as Mikey’s hands grow secure around the wrists of the hands still clenching his shirt, “Toman hasn’t changed, but we just… took it to a higher power; for you. ‘Bonten’ is what we’re called now and with you back… our ultimate goal is complete, Mitchy. You’ve made us happier than ever by coming back. S-so, you can’t leave.” Manjiro’s voice wavering just at the thought.

“W-what.. Manjiro– I, I don’t understand…” A familiar feeling of being so close to a flame that it singes your frayed edges is the only description of this moment. Takemichi wants to believe so much that it was just a stroke of luck, that the police had solved his case and that his doomed dreams within the yakuza world were gone. But… the words, the pacing in which Mikey speaks; Takemichi is fighting a losing battle to remain in his delusions.

 “ I’m– we are truly sorry we couldn’t get you sooner Takemitchy, but there were a few people in the way. Hanuji Furukawa and the Kurugiza kept the secret of your identity locked tight, but not their famed fortune teller. As– Bonten rose in power, power we couldn’t cast aside, tales of your work trickled down through the ranks of delinquent Japan.”

As Mikey continues to speak terrorizing details of his life, Takemichi can only feel a paralyzing sinking feeling in his heart and the bite of cold sweat roll down his skin. Toman– no, Bonten , was the answer for everything.

With shaking racking through their bodies for different reasons, both of the demented men maintained eye contact, albeit it wasn’t as comfortable or gooey warm as it had been just hours earlier. Takemichi’s hands that had been clutching Mikey’s shirt had now flown off of the fabric, balling together and pulling tight to his chest. Sensing the alarm in his destined lover, Mikey’s instincts tell him to grab the pale skin of his lover and never let go again… but the icy confusion glazing over their blue eyes halts him. His malnourished hands and arms stay by his side and in a bout of uncharacteristic weakness, Mikey surrenders. 

A passive blank look crosses his face as the older man gets up from the couch and walks around his home, as if looking for something and knowing the exact location. Takemichi, the dying heart, doesn’t move from his spot although he is close to having a panic attack from all the heavy confessions of this night. Mikey returns back to him quickly, squashing the thought of simply walking out and finding Draken to explain all this mess as it just flutters into his mind.

Even more uncharacteristically, Manjiro doesn’t remain standing, but he also doesn’t sit back down onto the couch. Instead, the older man settles down onto the floor before the feet of Takemichi. His knees bruising as they press against the cold tile floor, the Invincible Mikey sits on his legs and gazes above at Takemichi. Shuffling to sit in front of the Crybaby Hero, his hands reveal another elaborately designed box like the one Mitusya had gifted him. The reminder of his Toman uniform now tainted in his mind at what the gang had become. 

Not trusting himself to speak or move anymore, the ravenette looks pointedly between Mikey and the box. Soon enough, calloused hands grasp the top lid and it slides off with a small release of suctioned air. A faint smell of lavender wafts up to their noses as inside lay a pair of delicate, lotus white, silk gloves lay fresh on a bed of purple tissue paper. 

“Here, my love… I won’t continue unless you wear them.” Manjiro’s voice comes out like a whisper. Devotion coats his tone like honey and Takemichi can’t help his taste buds for being sweet. Still trembling, Takemichi reaches out to the pair of gloves and grabs them, rubbing the smooth feel of the fabric between two of his fingers. Looking back down to the expectant gaze of Manjiro, he finally, slowly, slips on the silk across his palm and the curves of his digits.

Chapter Text

Now accompanied with a protective barrier between his palms and the unfortunate possibility of seeing death once again, Takemichi feels a little better, but the reality check that had been dumped on him propagates a haunted sheen in his eyes. Manjiro knows. Everyone probably knows. His secret power isn’t a secret anymore; likely hasn’t been for a while. 

Lulled from his thoughts by motion in front of him, Takemichi still sits frozen like an ice sculpture as Manjiro shuffles closer to his own knees, turning his head to lay one of his sunken cheeks against Takemichi’s pant leg. The ravenette remembers times when he and Mikey would hang out together ten years ago, when Mikey would do the same thing and lay his head on Takemichi’s knees while he watched TV or was fixing bandages from his injuries that never seemed to leave his skin. Moments like those when it was silent with nothing having to be said to understand each other. 

They both missed that, but a lot would have to be accounted for for Takemichi to sync with the twin flame in front of him again. With newly gloved hands, his hands relax into the well of his lap before his index finger slowly extends out to poke softly at the crown of the head soaking up his heat. One of the blonde’s hands had paused their motion of drawing doodles along his pant’s fabric, indenting it just enough to graze the pebbled skin below. 

Takemichi gulps, clearing his throat, before muttering, “Manjiro, I want to know more… You promised.” Letting out a long sigh from being pulled from his happier thoughts, Mikey has to uphold his promise and reply, “You said you couldn’t imagine a normal life with Toman… well it won’t be normal anyway, Mitchy. We were still having difficulty–”

“Who is ‘we’, Manjiro?!” Takemichi interrupts the lazy explanation, his own voice surprising himself with its intensity. He would have apologized for his volume against another, but he needed to know the truth. Apparently, Mikey knew a lot about how he spent the last ten years, but Takemichi had no idea the other way around.

“...Bonten, which was created from a pact of Toman absorbing other gangs like Tenjiku, Black Dragons, and Valhalla.” The answer just seemed more complex than Takemichi thought as he knew that Valhalla had joined Toman before his kidnapping, he’s heard about the Black Dragons, but he is clueless on what gang Tenjiku was. Nevertheless, Mikey provides some context, “You met all the executives at dinner, Mitchy. Remember the white haired guy next to Kakucho? That was Izana, the past leader of Tenjiku; and also my…brother,” Mikey’s voice trails off quieter at the end of the sentence.

Family was a tough subject for many kids that had chosen to be a real delinquent in the past, Takemichi and Mikey were not excluded from that at all. The mention of gaining someone else that wasn’t just Emma or Draken soothed an ache in Takemichi’s heart dedicated for Mikey. For both of the men, loyalty meant the world and while blood might feel the same as water, it pumps through the heart and flows through the entire body. The closest people to you can hurt you the best, and that’s why you connect with them the most. 

After a few moments of silence, Mikey not speaking and Takemichi not asking, he moved onto narrating the recent business. “The Kurugiza and your ‘uncle’, hid you well. We were so close to finding you, but then… you disappeared; Poof! The Kurugiza acted like a headless chicken. That’s when I sent Kisaki to find you… and he did. But so did the Uramoto Paragon and Chifuyu, so we had to speed up takin– saving you. They predicted our plan and were working with the Kurugiza to take Bonten out before they could take you for themselves.”

The more Mikey drones on about the interworking of the few yakuzas in Japan, he works himself up while Takemichi listens vigorously. Hearing all of what had happened behind his attempt at a ‘normal’ life, it’s like his eyes have been wiped clear of fog. Thinking back to it… neither Kisaki and Hanma had hurt him for their improv road trip and maybe he really had seen Peke J and the Kawata Twins. Both the cat and the friends are kind of unique. 

“While Draken and I were… preoccupied, I sent Kisaki to finally pick you up. Hehehe… he told me how much of a chase you gave him, good job, Mitchy!” While the childishly snickering man encourages the fight from Takemichi, the ravenette stares down at the blonde with an unimpressed look and raised eyebrow. “Uh, then he had to get you to that creepy warehouse to meet up with the Uramoto Paragon leader. To them, Kisaki was crossing Bonten, but to me, he was crossing us to cross them. With having our ultimate target and a high ranking enemy in one room, surrounded by my Bonten men? You were there, you saw how easy it was…”

“And now… you’re here by my side; where you were always supposed to be.”

The manner in which Mikey mutters his explanation without compassion, but instead childlike impatience, strikes Takemichi like a mallet. Flinching back with a whole new world of events in his head now, he feels lightheaded and nauseated as if he is sailing in the middle of a treacherous sea storm. So much had happened that he knew nothing about and was still happening. 

The fresh memory of Sanzu and Mikey blowing the brains out of people, like it was second nature with silenced guns that must almost be like extra limbs to the gangsters, resurfaces in his mind. The chilling nights he had been walking home from the grocery store and heard concerning noises from deep inside nearby alleyways could have possibly been his last with whatever yakuza that was hiding deep within; sends shivers hiccuping down his vertebrae. Takemichi comes to realize how much danger he had always been in which pulls familiar tears from his recovering eyes. 

Droplets of salty liquid fall from his bowed head, seeping into dark dots of his pants and a few intercepted by the older man that was still huddling around his legs. As a fortune teller for the yakuza, many people around Takemichi died. There were many ways he had seen it happen, like gunshot wounds, slit throats, old age, drowned in a river, blown up, poisoned, and suicide; but, it had never directly been cause by him. It was an old blanket of comfort for the long haired man. 

That blanket was now gone. From the devotion and anguish Takemichi hears in the hollow voice of his damned lover as he proclaims the purpose of Bonten, a new feeling of the same treacherous sea’s waves crashing into his incomparable body settles into his bones. The murd– work that Bonten does… it was all his fault .

If Takemichi had just kept his power under tight lock and key ten years ago, all of this carnage could have been prevented. He had demented his partner, Chifuyu, by leaving him after they had both bared their dreams to each other, making false promises to support them together. Takemichi had left an embarrassed Baji and scared Kazutora to fend for themselves as they faced the similar, but not same family they grew up with. Mitsuya and Hakkai were no longer able to find peace with another level-headed Toman member, one that was supposed to be under their supervision and care.

 He had left Angry and Smiley, just as they had started to like him and his stubborn drive, adding him in as the Crybaby to their eternal duo. Forgotten by most except Takemichi, Sanzu and Mucho were left in the dark as the light that they could share with others was then gone. Peh-yan and Pah-chin, both indebted to Takemichi, but having repaid in going out to movies and boning over junk food, were without the opportunity to do those movie nights ever again. Takemichi had given up on Hinata and thus Kisaki, leaving him in a cycle of ambition with Hanma. 

And worst yet, he had left Mikey. The gang leader was dying from the separation of his pounding soul they share, growing insane from his other half being just out of reach. The gangs of their youth’s only connection and will to life was loyalty and corrupting power, to be bigger and with a harder bite than other people. Their combined lives were like a loaded spring and Takemichi’s sickened as he realizes that he was the catalyst . 

In every universe and pathway, it is always his fault. 

Takemichi is time’s greatest victim. 

Born to be tortured with the vision to see the end of every life, but his own.

Chapter Text

All background noises from the TV and the outside bustling city, touch from the man still brushing over his knees, tastes from the inside of his fleshy mouth, and vision from cursed eyes disappear from the static filling Takemichi’s entire being. What could be either centuries or milliseconds in the rest of the world feels like nothing to the distant ravenette. Dissociating from panic has shut down his logical mind, allowing his instincts to guild his body to do… something? Takemichi can’t tell what. An alarming and muscle tensing rush falls over him, screaming at him to do something . 

Having just broken his lover’s dreams and hope, Mikey begins to behave carefully and raises his head from lying on Takemichi to connect their eyes, “But it’s going to be ok… You’ll be fine, my Mitchy. We’ll teach you to accept this kind of life; it is the only one you’ll be living for the rest of time.” His voice is sugary, but dark possession quickly bleeds into it, “Even after you and I die, our souls will be entangled in a chase of longing through the afterlife.”

With nowhere else to look or listen, Manjiro’s demented, but beautifully disarming, words spread through Takemichi’s mind like molasses. Sticky to his every thought in a hazy glob, scrambling and dissolving them into an exhausted puddle of faintly feeling alive in only the term of his heart pumping blood through his veins. His alarmed and panicking instincts grow lame, disappearing from the forefront of Takemichi’s mind. His lover looks at him expectantly throughout this.

In relinquishment, the ravenette whispers out, “Enough, Manjiro..! I- I won’t go anywhere. I’ll stay with you…” It’s better here, where elegance and devotion bleed into the same stew, than with anyone else, goes unsaid from Takemichi’s chapped lips. It’s likely he couldn’t even flee to anyone else while still in close proximity to the tens of men that he would have laid down his life or ten years ago. 

Backed into a corner by a lurching mass of familiar darkness, Takemichi is unfortunate to find that during his time of staying obedient and waiting for the best time to strike, his teeth have been filed and his claws have been cut. The action of taking what has been given to him and nothing else has grown too customary for his poor mind. The fortune teller has always been a victim of time’s cruelness and the greed of others, and to be shone a deal promising venomous nostalgia? His glass stature shatters and his viscera spills out almost immediately. Covetous hands cupping together to scoop up all that they can.

Although his thin eyelids have started to droop over captivating eyes from the emotional weight of their night, livia irises recognize the look of quieting satisfaction on the face of their… abductor? soulmate? stranger? Takemichi will decide in the morning, if it’s not already too late by then.

⠂⠂⠂

As he is climbing up a ladder to peer above layers of stormy clouds in his dreams, Takemichi wakes up from a rejuvenating slumber. Even with his eyes still closed, he can sense the soft feeling of warm sunlight biting at his skin and the color of red flesh and darker veins shining through his eyelids to his pupils. Resting on his stomach, one leg hitched up to his side and the other left straight, the bed sheets below exposed to porcelain skin felt soft and tepid. 

Trying to bask in the moment a little longer, as the onslaught of last night’s discussion filters back to the young man, Takemichi’s feet twitch naturally. It’s a unwelcomed surprise to the ravenette as the bareness of his toes and the soft underside of his feet’s arch also meets the feeling of soft linen instead of scratchy sock material. Snapping his eyes open and blinking a few times to clear the blurry sheen over them, Takemichi is greeted with seeing his arms covered by long sleeves of a black silk sleep shirt. 

The feeling of his privacy being invaded grows within himself as Takemichi frantically pushes up from the comfortable conforming mattress and opens the bed’s covers, revealing his obviously bare feet and identical black silk pajama pants. Thin black eyebrows scrunch together and a grimace appears on his face as the ravenette weary looks around the unfamiliar room before slowly stretching open the waistband of his pants. With a sigh of relief, it seems to Takemichi that not all of his clothes had been removed and replaced. 

Assured with the few boundaries that he still possesses entirely to himself, Takemichi doesn’t get time to think thoroughly about where he is and what he’ll do about it before the noise of a pair of footsteps reaches his ears. The gentle pattering of similarly bare feet against tile can be heard from outside of the room, growing louder as a person nears the closed door adjacent to the right side of the bed. Fearing what might happen if the mysterious person walks in to him awake, Takemichi quickly lies back down onto his left side, tightly wrapping the covers around him again in a tired embrace as his back faces the side of the room containing the door. 

Hoping to be convincing, the young man waits with bated breaths as the metal doorknob clinks quietly as it’s rotated and the wooden door is slowly pushed open. Every muscle in Takemichi feels tense as he tries his best to keep them relaxed and his eyes stare off onto a spot on the wall as he listens to silence. As the person still keeps their voice to themself and their stepping soft enough not to hear, Takemichi attempts to organize his thoughts. With the truth behind meeting all his past friends and family being Bonten, a powerful yakuza that could make an elite japanese politician rethink their career choice, Takemichi didn’t believe that it is possible he was transported away. The thought brought a weird sense of comfort to him. Mikey and Chifuyu had made it clear to him that they loved him, although in differing styles, and that his safety was their top priority. It felt wrong… but Takemichi couldn’t help but feel safe around them. At least physically… he was still on edge mentally.

Turning away from his thoughts, Takemichi goes back to listening for any signs of exactly who is in the room with him, supposedly asleep. Perking his ears, light footsteps begin to travel closer to the generously sized bed before stopping right at the edge. Feeling the mattress dip on one side, Takemichi shuts his eyes quickly as his body jerks minimally due to the shuffling movement. Laying on his left side, feeling the thick strands of his hair pull taunt as his head lays on top of them almost painfully, the mysterious person still does not speak. Instead, they move closer, crawling under the covers and huddling close to Takemichi’s own warm body. The ravenette is impressed as he doesn’t flinch when cold feet press against his clothed ankles and a slightly smaller body presses flush against his back; sternum to spine between shoulder blades. 

A slender arm snakes its way around the angular waist of the man feigning sleep, while a shiver racks through his nerves when the hard shape of a face pushes into his hair and the back of his neck. Their lungs expand and slowly shrink back through long inhales of Takemichi’s scent, the sweet creamy aroma of chestnuts and lemongrass. Needless to say, it creeps the ravenette out just hearing and feeling the person– man, huffing while spooning him. 

As if Kami has answered his mind’s prayers, the man finally stops smelling him a few moments later and moves his head away from being smothered in Takemichi’s long hair. However, he does not fully move away and stays contently molded into the fortune teller. Stunning the room’s calm atmosphere, he finally speaks, “...I know you’re awake, Mitchy. You don’t have to pretend with me, but– just let me hold you… for a moment?”

Displaying a level of asking for consent, even though it likely doesn’t matter, Mikey’s hands don’t hold the same scared and possessive pressure that they used to since last night. They had both made it through the moon’s rotation around the earth and now with the consoling feeling of Takemichi’s ample skin bruisingly close to him, Mikey opens up to the emotion of being lazily content. His hands rub circles against Takemichi’s skin, pacifying the sleepless crybaby. Mikey’s voice being immediately recognized by his other half.

If it weren’t for how strong Mikey was, even in his current malnourished state, Takemichi would have fought back against being cuddled needlessly in a room that he now doesn’t doubt belongs to his ex-commander. But this is the Invincible Mikey, so all he can do now is let out a sigh and a timid, “...ok”. The touch feels foreign to his soul although the person is anything but a stranger. No one here is not a stranger, no matter how much they can change their appearance or bury their past. The bonds they’ve made from Toman still exist in Takemichi’s heart and the golden bleached tips of his hair. 

It’s heartbreaking how much he yearns for his friends and for the same adventurous, sweat, and blood soaked dream of controlling Tokyo like Mikey’s brother once had. While he recognizes that he wants so badly to be allowed to enjoy the  warmth being created between his and Mikey’s bodies, the funny stories Chifuyu and Hakkai will tell him later, and just being safe around people that would never give up on him… but Takemichi can’t. He shouldn’t. 

The childish, dangerous, and righteous Tokyo Manji Gang was gone and in its place was a cold yakuza probably responsible for so many sins in the world. Yet… in this wholesome moment where the walls of this room block out the rest of the universe and Mikey holds his lover like treasure, Takemichi’s frown lines relax and his own legs move to tangle into the other’s. Faced with everything he had ever wanted, but at the price of his unaccustomed freedom… Takemichi casts out a rope to pull him along.

Raising one of his hands to run across the arm around his waist, leaving goosebumps in its wake, he settles for grasping Mikey’s wrist gently without his newly gifted gloves. His prized eyes close once again, Takemichi not realizing they had opened again, as he shuffles around to get more rest in Mikey’s grounding embrace. It only takes a few moments for sleep to claim him again, but the time unconscious is short lasting. The noise of the door opening wakes up Mikey, but it’s when a high-pitched feminine voice calls out that Takemichi flinches awake. 

Turning his head around to an uncomfortable angle, his eyes widen revealing more sclera than iris as they lock onto a nearby woman. She wears a dusty yellow dress while her arms are crossed and her golden hair hangs down her shoulders freely, “Mikey. I sent you half an hour ago to wake him up, not cuddle with him!” The woman, a mature Emma Sano, scolds not unkindly at her brother. In response, the said man lets out an annoyed groan, scrunching his body closer around Takemichi as he digs his face into black strands of hair more. 

Emma rolls her eyes as Mikey disregards her and changes her gaze over to the curious pair of Takemichi, as he seems to be the only one mannered enough to acknowledge her. She uncurls her crossed arms to wave at the ravenette, a soft smile gracing her face and assuring the awkward man that she wasn’t mad at him per say. “Good morning, Takemichi! Sorry about Mikey, but could you get up? Breakfast is done downstairs and it’s only getting colder.” Emma speaks to him in a measured voice, full of the unusual kindness you wouldn’t expect from a gang leader’s family, but is common from the youngest Sano.

“Uhhh, y-yeah. I’ll do that,” the young man sputtered out, his face as pale as if he had seen a ghost. Which, to be fair to the fortune teller, she was in his beaten mind. Without another word, Emma leaves both the men’s room to presumedly go downstairs for breakfast. Takemichi has no idea what ‘downstairs’ would entail, but with so many new, but not truly new, faces popping up everywhere around him, he felt like he was in queue for a headache. 

Removing his hand from Mikey’s wrist and opening the covers of the bed, Takemichi attempts to get out of bed like Emma had asked. Instead, he is only successful in sitting up with his feet dangling off the side while the sound of pouty grumbles vibrate through the room and Mikey’s arms wrap themselves around his waist. Testing the strength of their grip with his own hands, Takemichi’s lover’s arms don’t budge. 

I might be getting that headache faster than I thought , he thinks.

Chapter Text

If someone were to look through the floor to ceiling windows that encase the top penthouse of Bonten’s building, they would see the current amusing sight of Takemichi trudging around the bedroom with immense effort as the limp body of Mikey gets dragged along. With how tightly secured his arms and hands were around Takemichi;s waist, there was no possible way that Takemichi alone was going to get Mikey off of him, but he refused to draw Emma’s aggravation, hence why he was up and out of bed. “UGH. Mikey, this is ridiculous! Me dragging you must be uncomfortable, the floor might give you rug burn.”

The stubborn blonde man doesn’t reply back to the exasperated and reasoning man. He seems to be perfectly content trading off some mild pain in exchange for holding his other half. Throughout the whole accord of them both moving from the bed to infront of his closet, the soft bottoms of his feet have not touched the floor yet.

“You’ll have to let go so I can change, y’know.” Takemichi warned in a shaky voice as cold fingertips slipped under the edge of his sleep shirt, caressing soft skin underneath. A zap of electricity runs from his toes to his ears as he pauses and whips his head down to look at the deranged man attached to him. The ravenette’s eyebrows raise in shock as his lover boldly looks back at him with a smug sheen in his eyes, intentionally touching his skin without any barriers.

He has to breathe in and let out an exhausted sigh before moving on. Takemichi tries to ignore the furious blush that decorates his cheeks as his own hands fall on top of Mikey’s wrists, thinking to himself, this is going to be a long forever together… 

Finally opening the closet and gazing at the amazing rows and rows of expensive designer suits, seemingly for any yakuza events that the blue eyed man would know nothing about, they surprisingly remain mostly untouched. The only area of the closet that appears to be used is a small heep of black, white, and robin egg blue samue. The kind of traditional clothes teenage Mikey used to wear. With nothing else to do and not wanting to encourage the blonde man’s antics, Takemichi continues to trudge on and it’s by a pure miracle that they are able to change into prior laid out casual clothes with tangled limbs. 

Even after changing and the sun shining brighter through the windows of the building, Mikey is still reluctant to let go and face the world for the day. Unfortunately, while Takmeichi couldn’t exactly enforce boundaries with his lover, another taller tattooed man could. Loud sharp knocks rap echo through the room as a quickly imposing figure strides from the open bedroom door to the two souls together. 

“You brat! Emma was being nice asking you guys to come down, but it seems like you’ve been taking your sweet time!” Draken scolded, his shoulders practically ablaze with his frustration. In the many years that he has known Mikey, there has never been a single day where he gets out of taking care of the small devil. Today was evidence of this curse.

In a single grab, the half of the Twin Dragons wrangles the back of Mikey’s collar and lifts him away from Takemichi. Ten years ago, Mikey would have been struggling like a fiesty cat, but now in an even more dangerous tone, he stays still while he’s dangled. 

Before the air around the trio turns homicidal and the blonde’s eyes shift a little too dark, Draken sets his best friend down with an eye roll. The heavy stomp of Mikey’s barefeet hitting tile again almost makes Takemichi jump out of his skin, the ominous feeling in the atmosphere seeming to only openly affect him. Comfortable and stoic as ever, the tall man turns to the blue eyed man with a different softness to his black eyes, “Good morning, Takemitchy. Hope you slept alright; and don’t worry, breakfast will still be warm downstairs.”

“G-good morning too… um, yeah, thank you,” Takemichi answers robotically, still having to get used to the new, but familiar treatment of his friends. This doesn’t phase Draken, who moves on to looking them both up and down, noting their new clothes and socks. He then promptly ignores his boss while he guides the fortune teller to sit on the edge of the luxurious bed he woke up from, not speaking but keeping a calm distance between the two of them. Suddenly another black box, probably from Mitsuya, appears almost out of thin air and Draken’s hands pick up a pair of dull lavender sneakers from inside. Proportionate to the rest of the giant, his hands gently cup the blue eyed man’s heels while sliding them into the shoe. 

Takemichi stares down in curiosity, wordlessly impressed at the excellent fit of them around his feet. He starts to bend down to finish tying his shoes, but the black haired man doesn’t rise from his kneeling which stops the younger man’s movement before they collide. His large hands return to the shoes and begin to tie them himself. 

Clearing his voice and breaking the calm spell of the room, “You know… I can do that myself?” Takemichi speaks, not angry but instead curiously anxious of the pampering. Once both of his shoes are tied, Draken once again summons another black box and pulls out a new pair of silky gauntlet gloves. “I know you can, but let me,” his deeper voice rolls as large hands are infinitely careful to help Takemichi’s own hands get encased by the material.

Coupled with the comforting gloves that now keep his sanity safe, Takemichi doesn’t find the need to speak again. His prized sapphire eyes roaming over his pants down to his shoes, mindful of the rush of warmth over his heart. Off to the side in signature wooden getas, Mikey glares at his childhood friend while he tends to their Crybaby Hero, the taller man’s intentions not dodging the watchful eyes of the other man.

Soon enough, their potential of conversation ends and huddled between both of his more-than friends, Takemichi gets led out of the bedroom and inside another elevator. To his left, Draken presses an unmarked green button before shoving his hands into his suit’s pockets. Faint boring music starts to play and accompanies them as the doors shut and it feels like the chamber is going down. To his right, Takemichi feels the light grazing of Mikey’s fingertips against the back of his covered hand, slowly spreading his fingers apart before he weaves his own inbetween. 

A large amount of his jealousy still remained inside the shorter man’s mind, undetected by Takemichi and only earning a single glance from Draken. The feeling tangled throughout his intestines, propagating something close to bodily pain, and coiled into a burst of energy ready to be set off. Before it could erupt and the man’s impulses could go over the edge, lobelia eyes turn to look into his own and a small squeeze of his hand draws Mikey back to the moment. Peering back at an expectant expression on Takemichi’s face, the blonde man breathes in and blows out a puff to the delight of his lover. It was almost scary to a degree that while the words couldn’t piece together in Takemichi’s mind, he could still understand Manjiro in a way no one else could.

Tearing his eyes away slowly, the familiar setting of this elevator sends the ravenette back into his memories from last night. The same feeling of anticipation floods through his lymph nodes at the idea of seeing Bonten again; it’s bubbly emotion tickling the inside of his stomach. Takemichi takes a breath, and exhales. 

Finally, as the doors open and warm artificial light of LED spreads wider across him, Takemichi’s nose catches on the smell of delicious food and his stomach grumbles softly in response. Draken exits first and Takemichi follows shortly behind Mikey, their hands’ grip unconsciously growing tighter. Looking around the new floor, the ravenette is greeted with cream painted walls, zero windows, a few half dead cactuses sprinkled around, and foggy glass rooms that presumably contain offices. It's… exactly what he would have expected from his group of friends. 

Walking past a couple ajar doors, Takemichi’s eyebrows raise slightly as he looks inside and begins to guess which office belongs to whom. Some are basic monochrome with a few personal framed pictures, which he can’t really guess, but some are super obvious, like Baji’s holding an entire gallon of gas right next to his banged up minifridge with cat magnets decorating it.

Trusting Mikey to drag him to wherever breakfast is, Takemichi no longer looks at where he is walking. Instead, his head turns left and right to analyze the offices that were left open. After several doors being closed from his view on the right, a door finally swings open ahead of the trio. A large purple grape shortly stomps out while finishing an argument with someone else inside, the striped suit and long hair of Rindou registering in the fortune teller’s mind. As Takemichi starts to walk past the office’s opening and his free hand raises to wave at the disgruntled man, a sudden gasp is forced from his throat at the surprise inside. 

Laying across a crimson leather loveseat is his ever flirtatious big brother, Ran, who currently extends his arms straight up to the ceiling while clutching a swaying blob of white fur. Takemichi immediately recognizes the same white fur and light lavender collar of his baby Miruku. Before Mikey can tighten his grip, the ravenette’s hand slides away and he is speed walking past a distracted Rindou inside their office. 

“–again! She’s clearly fin… Uh, hello?” Ran’s deep voice trails off as Takemichi approaches him, pausing next to his head. The determination in his eyes and slight downturn of his closed mouth briefly unsettling him. The purple man is ignored as Takemichi’s gloved hands carefully, but suddenly, grab Miruku from his outstretched arms. “Wha–? Hey! Give Ashtray back–” 

As the older twin quickly sits up with his arms still outreached, his black eyebrows scrunching up in taken back confusion. At the sound of his protest against Takemichi, an onlooking Mikey silences the man with a single tilt of his head from the doorway alongside a ghostly pale Rindou and glowering Draken. 

“ That’s the kind of name you gave Miruku?! Ugh, unbelievable–” Takemichi’s tone not attempting to hide his sass towards the cruel murderer. Seeing as Ran no longer tries to speak or move due to Mikey, the ravenette turns his back comfortably to the man and walks out of the office, rejoining the others to breakfast with Miruku in his arms. He coos softly at the excited kitten that frantically litters his nose with little licks, drawing giggles from the long haired man.

Once a few feet ahead of the Haitani twins, Takemichi snickers at the sound of a hand hitting the back of someone’s head and the playful squawk of Ran directed at his younger brother. He tries to hide his grin by dropping his face closer to Miruku. Fortunately, it’s not long before the trio finally step into the organization’s kitchen. Just like the rest of the floor, there are no windows and the walls contain the same cream color, but it holds a much different warmth with the multitude of colorful dishes out containing steaming breakfast. 

Emma stands by the stove, a light pink apron tied around her waist as she finishes cooking small fillets of salmon. She perks up at their arrival, an appreciative smile blooming over her face for Draken while she nods to a large table farther away. While Draken moves to help Emma with their food, Mikey’s hand once again intertwines with one of Takemichi’s as they walk over to empty seats. A few figures are already sitting down and nursing cups of coffee; Kisaki most notably fluffing sheets of newspaper he was reading, which unintentionally, or intentionally, knocks into Koko’s own open finance magazine. 

It was so… domestic. The emotion of tranquility taking over Takemichi’s mind. Sparing a few greetings and good mornings, he settles into his seat next to a grinning Mitsuya, the man content with how his clothes fit appropriately. Mikey sits down on his other side at the same time, looking as bored as he possibly could. 

Maybe for a little bit, the fortune teller could pretend that this was normal.