Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

»Sleeping is fucking hard if you can't stop thinking.«

– Sakura Haruka
A thought he harbours every morning.

Sakura Haruka is a freak.

That was the first time someone had written on his desk. It had been in primary school. In curved writing. Pretty ugly. Probably another boy. Certainly one of those who had entered the wrong room just to catch him changing for P.E., and this someone hadn’t missed the small bulge in Haruka’s far too tight pants.

With a sigh, he rested his head on his knees. Several years had passed since then, and he had come to terms with what others said or thought about him. It no longer mattered; it probably never had.

Somewhere between the demands, the bullying and the truth behind his self, he had understood who he was and who he wanted to be. At least he held on to the belief that people like him also had an identity – that he fit into a group that was like him. That was all he needed. Just this one goal. And Furin was the way to get there. Straight to the top, where no one would look at him the wrong way while a “disgusting” was on some depraved tongue. 

It was all quite simple.

Still, his stomach twisted. The longer he thought about what he had seen, the higher the bile rose in his throat.

Meeting Tsubakino – Tsubaki-chan – had brought back memories. Some of those shitty pictures that he didn’t really want in his head because they were just baggage. But Tsubakino was someone you didn’t just forget. A guy who cared just as little about the opinions of others as Sakura did. The long hair with the red tips, the clothes, the make-up, and those high heels that Haruka had once had to wear too when he had been twelve.

Tasuku Tsubakino was just like him.

And yet they couldn’t have been more different.

A soundless laugh escaped Sakura’s lips. If Tsubakino took off his uniform and undressed, he would be no less masculine than the others. And then, at the latest, there would be nothing left in which Haruka could find a connection. Not like this.

For a breath, he dared to lower his eyelids and surrender to the blackness beyond. Treacherous, ugly darkness that haunted him and could usually only be banished with the light of his mobile phone when it was time to sleep. However, this time, no bright light saved him. Because he did this to himself in the early morning. School would start soon. There he would be, once again, exactly what he wanted to be.

Should be.

Had to be.

But now?

In these minutes, he was none of those things.

“Haruka, darling ... you look wonderful. Right, dear?”

His mother’s voice reached him, almost like an echo. A picture followed shortly afterwards. One of many. An entire scene in which he had only been seven.

“You need to be more careful with your clothes. Mum always gets very sad when you ruin one.”

His father had once reprimanded him for wrecking one of those dreadful summer dresses with puffed sleeves. But it had been uncomfortable. He could hardly move in it. How was he supposed to play with the boys with all that fabric in the way?

“You shouldn’t play with the boys. A girl needs to make friends with other girls.”

Whenever his mum had warned him not to get too involved with others, his spirits had somehow been shattered. Did it matter who he was more comfortable with?

At ten, he had understood, had realised that there were differences between boys and girls and that he didn’t fit in. Neither with the girls nor with the boys. Mainly because he somehow looked different between his legs. A little ... wrong. Like something that hadn’t finished growing and never would.

At some point, he had asked his parents about it. The curiosity had been at least as great as the worry.

“You’re a girl, Haruka.”

That was the only answer he had ever received.

He had believed it himself when he was twelve – when his breasts had started to grow. A little bigger every week, at least that’s how it had felt. Just like his cock had grown. This somehow crooked thing that didn’t look right was sticking up between a woman’s labia. A second pair of them stuck to the underside of it, a bit shrivelled and ugly. Behind it, an entrance. Not particularly deep, but somehow wet.

Everything “somehow”.

Somehow fucked up.

The girls at his old school had complained about his body the first time he’d changed, mumbling and whispering, which he hadn’t understood until that one sentence had been written on his desk.

Sakura Haruka is a freak.

He probably was.

Slowly, he opened his eyes and took a deep breath. There was no point in thinking about it. It wouldn’t change what had happened. In the end, he hadn’t been able to satisfy anyone. Loneliness remained his only companion. He was not Tsubakino. Not surrounded by so many things that matched. He was the boy who would show them all that he would end up at the top of this school. That was why he was here.

Wearily, he pulled to his feet before stretching and squaring his shoulders. The sun was already burning, and when he pushed his feet into the light, he felt the warmth on his toes. It reminded him of a kind of security he had found with his mother a long time ago. She had only started to push him away when he had asked her about his sex. It was probably on that day that she had realised he would never be the girl she had wanted.

His father had clung to the hope of making something decent out of his misshapen child, but all the hair dye and coloured contact lenses hadn’t been able to hide the truth.

Haruka had given up first.

His father two weeks later.

Slowly, he dragged to his wardrobe to pull out his school uniform. A dark green, almost black Gakuran jacket with light green and yellow sleeves and collar. Green inside. Black trousers that hugged his legs. Black trainers. Chest binder. White shirt. Everything matched. Very different from the fashion experiments he’d made in his younger years, only to realise that five white shirts and black trousers were all he knew about fashion. But who needed fancy clothes in a place where it came down to who could fight better?

Here, his strength was the only security he needed. No friends you couldn’t rely on, anyway. They would turn their backs on him, too, if they knew what was wrong with him. Not falling into this trap in the first place saved a lot of heartache. Haruka had learnt this the hard way. Hence, this tightrope act. A play in which he adapted and pretended to be part of the big picture.

Only as long as he had to.

That’s why he’d made that damn smart decision to throw Kaji’s explanation out the window. It had been one of his weak moments. One of those stupid ideas because he’d been hopeful for a split second – until he’d remembered that things that sounded nice were rarely good. He couldn’t let anyone see behind the facade. Not for a second.

He wouldn’t survive that again.

His tongue clicked. “Stop complaining...”

Immediately, he straightened his shoulders, ready to put his soft side in a box and lock it away, leaving only Sakura Haruka – the boy who took pleasure in breaking others’ noses when needed.

The short morning routine washed away the rest of his thoughts. Then he packed his smartphone and the keys to this run-down place. For breakfast, he had an onigiri that he had bought in the shop the day before.

As soon as he was out in the fresh air, everything became a little easier. Outside the house, freedom was limitless. In this city, he could be whoever he wanted to be. No rules. No expectations. Just himself and the goal before his eyes.

Sakura buried his hands in his trouser pockets before leisurely making his way along the streets. He let the warmth of the day linger on his skin, savoured every breeze, and enjoyed the hustle and bustle of the people of Makochi. He couldn’t deny how much he liked this place. The residents here held something he wanted to protect.

The thought sent a chill down his spine and drove a gentle blush into his cheeks. Sure, there was no value in pretending he would stay in this place forever, but all these near strangers would never know more about him than what he willingly showed them. And that was a security that allowed at least some room in his heart for these people.

Still, the peace and all its friendliness simply passed him by today. Somehow, he avoided people’s stares, receiving gifts or otherwise engaging in conversation, until the graffiti-covered Furin High School building appeared before him. It was a sight he was slowly getting used to because it seemed like a dark spot in the middle of Makochi where he could always find a starting point. Here, it was possible to run in any direction and fight with others. Here, he could reach the top.

“Sakura-chan!”

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up almost noticeably as he turned around to discover Tsubakino. The third-year student’s long legs carried him straight over to Haruka – unstoppably, as if there was no escape. And Sakura accepted it, showed no emotion and waited until Tasuku reached him.

“You’re late,” Tsubakino laughed. The red lipstick gave him a mesmerising radiance. “Not as if such things matter. But if we’re already meeting here, I hope you’ll come tonight, too.”

“Tonight? Where to?” He raised his eyebrows.

“There’s a lovely place where you can get good food. I’ve already invited the other two. You’ll be there too, right?”

If Sakura hadn’t known better, he would have almost mistaken Tsubakino for a girl again at that very moment. The way he smiled, how he folded his hands at chest level, as if he was really begging him to be there. The joy in his voice. The way he leant forward slightly and came far too close.

For a breath, the anxiety that Tsubakino might smell what was wrong flashed through him. Perhaps his odour gave him away. It couldn’t be his clothes. Or his gait. Could it?

Still, his heart pounded as he pursed his lips and looked away. “Fine by me.”

“Great!” Hands landed heavily on Haruka’s shoulders, causing his attention to wander back to Tsubakino. In the next blink, he danced past Sakura – the black and red hair following in an almost wavy motion. “I’ll see you around! I’m looking forward to it!”

What had he got himself into now? Part of him thought he was stuck in one of those never-ending nightmares. The rest of him knew better. After all, he had woken up to face the loneliness of the morning, and now, having arrived at Furin, he was faced with an affection that felt wrong.

False and, to make matters worse, pleasant.

With a sigh, he pushed onwards, into the building, up the stairs to the classroom. In front of the sliding door, he paused. Putting one hand on the handle, he remained for a few seconds.

Then he pushed the barrier open.

》 CHERRY BLOSSOM《

No matter how Sakura twisted or turned the circumstances, nothing happened. Neither during the patrol through the town nor when he clashed with two guys who didn’t have much more to say than a quick apology before they ran off at the sight of Bofurin. All he was left with was Nirei’s intel, things about Makochi and everything in the neighbourhood, little of which stuck in his head.

In the end, he had no choice but to accept Tsubakino’s invitation, which he would have preferred to miss out on. Alone. In this run-down room, which, if you didn’t look too closely, almost looked better than the room he had been given when he had been fourteen. Less shabby and less dusty. Perhaps a little friendlier, too.

Indecisively, his attention wandered around. Up to some windows of the surrounding tower blocks. Then down to the ground. Heat simmered under his skin, unable to defy the silence. A part of him jumped up and down joyfully and eagerly, as if he belonged in this very place with these two guys by his side, who probably saw themselves as his friends.

A little ahead of him, on his right, was Nirei. His face marked by two band-aids, it didn’t seem that long since his last fight. And that was even though they had all taken great care to make sure he didn’t put himself in the same danger again as he had against KEEL.

Not like Sakura cared much about him.

Or worried about him.

It was probably just a touch of pity that took over in him when he saw how much effort Nirei put into his daily life to be of some use to Bofurin. He found sympathy for that. Deep within himself.

On the left, meanwhile, he found Suo. Just as quiet as all of them, focused firmly on the path in front of him. As carefree as ever, and yet still just a mystery that Sakura couldn’t figure out. Perhaps that was for the best. That way, he wouldn’t find any more to like about people who shouldn’t play a role in his life. One day, he would push them away. At the latest, on the day when he took the top spot in Bofurin and no longer had to worry about what it meant to be part of a family.

He thought too much. About them and himself.

About everything.

And about nothing.

“Is everything okay, Sakura-san?”

Hastily, he turned his head to the side, only to meet Nirei’s puzzled gaze.

“You’ve been pretty antsy the whole time.”

Was he? Antsy?

His brows drew together. “I-I’m not.” His chest tightened, causing him to close his eyes. Half the truth would do. It was good enough not to draw unnecessary attention. “I’m just annoyed at being dragged out here on my evening off.”

“You’re just hyped because you get to hang out with your friends on your free evening, aren’t you?” A cheerful smile on his lips, Suo half-turned to face him and uttered exactly what Sakura had already banished to the back of his mind.

He wasn’t hyped. He really wasn’t.

But he enjoyed it.

Somehow.

Immediately, Sakura squeezed his lips together. How could a boy of fifteen possess that kind of X-ray vision?

Whatever it was, he denied it – words that bounced off the other two as Nirei nodded his head knowingly. “I see... I know how you feel.” His beaming smile, as if no one could ever truly hurt him, sent a shiver down Haruka’s spine. “Besides, Tsubaki-san invited us to thank us for lifting Ito-san’s spirits.”

For a blink, Sakura zoned out. This old man, whom they had helped to realise that his wife had been happy with him, hadn’t been a big deal. If he was honest, he probably hadn’t even contributed anything. In the end, it had been Suo who had said a few clever things about flowers. He should be thanked, no one else. Not Sakura Haruka. Not him. And yet they were all dragged into this, as if it were natural to be rewarded for the slightest inconvenience. As if they all lived on a damned pony farm where everyone treated each other with kindness. Anything, as long as you fit in. As long as you were one of the “boys”. One of them.

Not a thing.

Not a fre-

“My God...” Without further ado, he stopped. He didn’t want to get hung up on this thought. Not if it didn’t matter. On his tightrope walk, it didn’t matter who thought what about him or whether they all played this hypocritical game of friendship and unity, if in the end it was just another concept that would collapse. It couldn’t be any other way. He had seen it with his old “friends” and his family. The margin for error was too low for him to fit underneath. Bofurin was no different. Even if that annoying concept kept creeping under his skin.

“What is it?”

When the other two also stopped to turn to face him, Sakura immediately seized a change of subject. Anything was better than sinking too deeply into his own thoughts. “I’ve been wondering this for a few minutes now, but what’s up with your face?” He tapped his cheek with his index finger. “Did someone beat you up?”

Maybe he could relax that way. Whoever had punched Nirei, he would pay them back double until his knuckles ached and his head was empty.

But instead of giving him what he craved, Nirei averted his eyes. “T-That? I tripped. Didn’t I, Suo-san?”

And again, Sakura met that charming smile of Hayato’s that no one could see behind. He would never be able to figure him out. Probably. Simultaneously, another question solidified in his mind. “Tripped? Was Suo with you?”

“Come on now!” No answer. Instead, Nirei circled him, putting his hands on Sakura’s back and pushing him forwards despite his protests. “We should hurry!”

He had no choice but to follow. This time at the front, Haruka buried his hands a little deeper in his trouser pockets. Continuing this conversation would never get him anywhere. Not in the way he had hoped. Instead, he was left with only the thoughts in the back of his mind or the people in his immediate vicinity, who grew in number the darker it got.

As the streetlights flickered and turned on to bathe the streets in a yellow-orange glow, he turned briefly to Suo, who was still holding his hands behind his back and walking behind Nirei with a fixed, friendly expression – who was staring at his smartphone in confusion.

“Are you sure this is the right way?” Mouth twisted, Haruka stopped at the end of a pedestrian crossing – just like the other two. “We’ve been walking for a while already.”

“Yeah...” Eyes fixed on the display, Nirei pointed to his left. “We turn here and then go straight!”

Sakura’s eyes followed the instruction over to bright signs and endless adverts. The threshold to another world seemed to loom before them, with the warning sign “Keisei Street” emblazoned above it. Wherever Tsubakino had invited them to, it was bound to be something that couldn’t be found anywhere else.

“Nire-kun, do you really have the right information?” Suo seemed to catch the same thought. A quick sideways glance revealed he could barely hold back his laughter. The gentle twitch of the corners of his mouth gave him away.

“Huh? Yeah, they should be ri-” Nirei’s unawareness vanished at the latest the second he detached from the mobile phone display. His distorted sound of horror hurt somewhat in Sakura’s ears, while Suo punctuated his amusement with the obvious mention of having arrived in the red-light district.

Unable to find the right words, Nirei failed to give further directions. So Sakura shrugged his shoulders. This was just a street full of things to do for pleasure. He had heard of districts like this many times before, had considered them with little interest, and, at some point, had simply labelled them as just another place on the maps of Japan. Putting one foot forward was no obstacle. Neither for him nor for Suo, who stayed close by his side. Nirei clung to them both somewhere behind, and for a moment, he was overcome by the strange feeling that he needed to be a little more careful. Just to keep Akihiko safe.

The smell of alcohol and food came through to him as he passed by women handing out flyers with warm words. Somewhere in between, a maid moved into his view to offer him her service – simple yet suggestive with the words “Master”. It was one of those situations where his heart sank four floors, unsure of how to react. Master? Him? He probably looked like a normal boy among all the other people. Just as he should be. Just as he tried to be. And as Suo pulled him forwards, Sakura thought the weight of his worries lifted from his shoulders. Here and now, he had nothing to be concerned about. Neither about anyone finding out about him, which he was trying to hide, nor about this fake family called Bofurin collapsing on him.

At least until he felt Nirei’s hand on his shoulder and was pulled aside. “Stop right there!” Akihiko’s fingers trembled as he lifted his sheet-pale face. “We should go back for now! And then I’ll go over the address again with Tsubaki-san!”

“Walk back the way we just came?” In an instant, Sakura tore away. He didn’t want to have to leave. Not now, when everything seemed halfway okay. “You’ve got to be kidding me! Let’s just go.”

“Are you serious?” countered Nirei. “This isn’t a place where high school students should hang out! And this isn’t Furin territory either, remember?”

“You say this isn’t a Furin area, but looking around,” he turned demonstratively to the signs and offers, “this is just a brightly lit –”

He didn’t get to the end.

Out of nowhere, a body knocked him to the ground. White fabric fluttered into his view. He slammed back-first onto the hard stone, feeling the air squeezed from his lungs and the weight of another threatening to crush a part of him. His head was spinning. His bones ached. But it was nothing compared to the panicked voice that thundered in his ears before a face pushed its way into his field of vision.

“A-Are you all right? I’m so sorry; I was panicking!” Blue eyes scrutinised him with a faint gleam. Ash-blonde hair fell tangled over her shoulders. In the next breath, she jumped up, grabbed him by the arm and tugged. “Are you hurt somewhere?”

“Stop pulling,” he snapped back. Any harder and she’d rip his goddamn arm off.

With difficulty, he scrambled to his feet and patted his trousers while the stranger lamented her dirty dress, torn at the leg, before bemoaning a missing necklace. She seemed at least as confused as he was, and yet there were these overwhelming questions he forced out as soon as his hands were back in his trouser pockets.

“Why are you so stressed? I mean...” He looked up a fire staircase ending somewhere on the second floor, “jumping down from up there...”

“I’m in a hurry,” she returned hastily. “S-so if you’ll excuse me!”

She gathered up her dress as quickly as she could. It was one of those pretty, long summer ones that he had been forced to wear back then, too. One with plenty of legroom, but it didn’t help her much. She barely made it five steps before a small group of men emerged from the shadows of the side streets. Or maybe it was a large group. He couldn’t tell. So far, the crowd had never really been enough – except maybe when they’d clashed with KEEL.

“Who the fuck are these guys? Do you know them?” A guy in a red shirt stepped forward. Presumably, the leader of this troupe who was chasing after a woman who couldn’t protect herself. A pathetic sight that would have been best disposed of somewhere in the large rubbish bins. A bunch of idiots backing someone into a corner.

It was always the same.

And it was perfect.

Just as the stranger raised her hands to assure they didn’t know each other, Sakura intervened. With a sharp look at this stranger, he growled threateningly at him, “And what if she knows us?”

The guy immediately clenched his teeth. His jaw was grinding, yet he forced himself to smile. “I guess they didn’t teach you any manners... Normally, I’d smack you right now and show you how to behave towards your elders, but I don’t have time for that at the moment. Lucky for you.” He raised his palm as if expecting a gift. “Hand the bitch over, or else...”

He let the sentence hang as if it contained the slightest hint of a threat. It was probably one of those jokes you pulled in a gang when you had no clue what you were going to do. Or, if the threat sounded even more like a joke when spoken out loud rather than just half uttered. For Sakura, it was nothing more than a challenge. Better still, it was an invitation to an evening’s entertainment in a district where nothing else mattered.

Slowly, he put one foot in front of the other, straight towards the guy. “Or what? It takes a guy and a whole gang to chase after a defenceless woman, and he still dares to say ‘or else’.” He raised his voice, this time shouting his question clearly for everyone to hear. “Or what?”

“One after the other...” Sighing, the guy put his hands at his sides, his head bowed. “All the time, someone keeps getting in my way.” His gaze lifted, and his face flushed with anger. “This fucking pay is really not worth it!”

They would attack. He would get what he needed. That feeling of power and security to emphasise his point. All he had left to do was to warn the other two. “Suo, you and Nirei stay with the woman.”

“I can handle it...” Nirei interjected. “I can take care of myself! I’ll stay with her. You two should just look straight ahead!”

Ridiculous. After everything that had happened with KEEL, they couldn’t possibly rely on him. Nirei was weak. He needed protection. He needed someone to look out for him so he wouldn’t be hurt so badly again. To allow him to-

He swallowed the thought. First, he had to make him realise they couldn’t leave him alone.

“Sakura-kun.” However, Suo snapped him out of his trance before he could put his doubts into words. “You heard Nire-kun. We should trust him and leave it to him. I’ll assist if necessary.”

It was probably the dumbest idea anyone could have come up with. Nirei wasn’t a fighter. He needed a hand. Just like Sakura had once needed it. There was no reason to include him in this mess. Still, they both looked at him as if there was nothing to worry about. As if something had changed. As if Kaji’s words suddenly made sense because it was okay to hand over tasks – or to believe in someone.

An unpleasant thought that wasn’t getting any easier by the second. But did he even have a choice? “Whatever. I trust you.”

At least for these few minutes, in which this boy behind him vowed to do his best, while the gang in front of them could hardly wait any longer to battle it out. Just a single blink changed the calm before the storm – bringing with it the real chaos he had been waiting for all along. A single mass rushed towards him. Fists raised, Sakura found himself back in the only element he knew: violence.

He ducked under a fist before ramming his own into a guy’s stomach. The stranger stumbled back with a flourish, while Sakura took two steps to the side to avoid the next blow. Another face came into view. Another visage he could punch straight on the nose. Resistance pressed against his knuckles, sending shockwaves through his arm and flooding him with a weightlessness that couldn’t be found anywhere else. His body seemed light as a feather. It was impossible not to flex every muscle, so he grabbed the next guy running at him by the shoulders. In a single leap, Haruka propelled into the air, legs tensed, only to slam them down hard on the person behind his attacker. Trainers kicked against a head, bringing another to the ground, next to whom he briefly squatted to find his balance.

Right after, someone shouted behind him. Heavy footsteps stomped in his direction.

Sakura breathed in for two seconds.

In the next, he braced himself on his hands and lifted one leg backwards. His heel struck his attacker’s lower jaw so strongly that it caused blood to spray. It settled on the white sole of Sakura’s shoe. Proof that this fight was actually happening – that he was alive and not trapped in another one of those dreams that brought no satisfaction. All he had to do was swing his arms, ram fists into stomachs, and lift his leg now and then when someone thought they could overpower him. It was amazing. Perfect. Both a distraction and a release from the chains that had threatened to suffocate him all day long.

Until a guy rushed past him.

Straight towards Nirei.

Immediately, his body whirled around, ready to get hold of this fool. But his fingers twitched, everything inside him tensed, and fronts clashed inwardly. Why should he help? What did it matter? They weren’t friends. Not really. On top of that, he had agreed to put his trust in someone else for the moment. But what trust? His head was a mess, a lie filled with truths, with things that made no sense to him.

He gritted his teeth. None of it should matter. Not here and now, when he could find freedom in the pain – in the throbbing of his hands and the excitement that made his blood boil. He had to trust. No. He wanted to trust to get the best out of this turmoil. So he turned away to deliver an uppercut to the nearest guy’s chin.

Still, out of the corner of his eye, he watched Nirei. Only half-pleased, he elbowed someone in the face to kick a foot into the knee of another before smashing his fist into his nose. Akihiko, meanwhile, recognised his opponent, waited for the right moment and ducked just in time to send his attacker stumbling over his back. An excellent blonde stumbling block that caused his opponent to split their lip on the ground tiles.

Just like that.

As if he had always been able to do this little trick.

And it was enough to turn Sakura’s focus back to the fight. If Nirei knew how to prove he could stand on his own, there was nothing to worry about – not that he ever really cared. At least it felt less weird when he told himself that he was solely looking out for the other two to make sure they could protect the girl. That was fair. For himself and his thoughts.

He couldn’t suppress the grin on his face at the thought. Instead, he ducked under two guys before attacking them from below with a renewed drive that sent them to the ground in a well-aimed move. Behind them, he caught sight of the guy in the red shirt. The leader who had opened his mouth so wide and was probably still somehow feeling safe.

Ready to pull the ground from under his feet, Sakura charged towards him. His opponent didn’t react fast enough before Haruka punched him in the face. Once from the left. Then, from the right, causing him to stagger. The third blow, however, went narrowly past his nose. A single second in which this stranger smirked. A mere blink in which Haruka could feel the excitement inside before he leapt and thundered his leg against his enemy’s head from the right.

Severed from his perception, the leader crashed to the ground, and with that, just as quickly as it had started, it ended. Every single member of the opposing group was down, unable to lift a finger.

“I-Is everything all right?” The woman’s panicked exclamation made him turn his gaze to Nirei, who had fallen on his backside.

“I’m sorry. I was just so relieved that I couldn’t stand any longer.”

Carefully, Sakura took a few steps closer, doing the same as Suo, who held his hands folded behind his back once again. Time seemed to have flown by for him just as it had for Haruka. Except that he still had that smile on his lips. Neither his demeanour nor his facade changed when he praised Nirei for his efforts and simultaneously gave Sakura the opportunity to do the same.

Immediately, irritation spread through him. What was he supposed to say? What words were there that would do justice to the circumstances?

Instead of joining in the praise, he stuck to Suo. “Was it you who taught him that risky trick?”

“Exactly. The roly-poly tactic.”

It sounded like a children’s playground, or maybe a game. What it didn’t sound like was a strategy used in battle. Wherever Suo got his knowledge from, it had to be related to his way of getting around things.

“Well, when Suo-san does it, it looks a lot more stylish,” Nirei chipped in. The grin on his face looked defeated. “My performance was rather unstylish.”

Probably. But they had all started somewhere at some point. Sakura remembered when he had gotten into his first fight and had looked anything but elegant. Fighting was something you learnt. He had discovered that the hard way. Nirei did much better than he ever would have done.

“Not ... really.” Closing his eyes, Sakura put a hand to the back of his head. “I wouldn’t say it was unstylish.”

And that was likely the best compliment he would ever manage. A halfway passable ending to a perfectly passable brawl –

An inner statement that shattered when he noticed someone rushing towards them. Nirei jumped aside just in the nick of time. Immediately, Sakura raised his arms, imitating Suo, to put up a defence that collapsed when the unknown landed a powerful kick against them, forcing them back a few steps.

“Sakura-kun, you’re okay?” Suo’s words filtered through to him in a hiss.

“No problem.” The feud didn’t seem to be over yet. There was still someone who wanted to mess with them. Another fight he could face – against a guy who seemed to be on a completely different level than the losers from before.

When the guy grabbed the girl by the arm, Sakura charged forward, Suo firmly at his side. But every fibre in him slowed as the black-haired stranger shouted a question at them that made no sense.

“Are you the arseholes hunting Shizuka?” Brows drawn together, the angry wrinkle between them stood out so clearly that Haruka could feel the trembling in his own hands. “Shizuka said she’s going to work in this town!” He immediately whirled round to face the woman, examining her scratches and every smudge of dirt on her face. His voice wavered from a dangerous bark to a caring growl, only to spiral upwards again, fuelled by rage.

Everything about him was ready to kick the shit out of them. Sakura felt it – the dominance of a man who had something to protect. The presence of someone who was prepared to walk over dead bodies. A terrifying lust for murder that vanished when Shizuka slapped him hard in the face, stunning everyone, before reprimanding him with harsh words and clarifying the circumstances. As a result, the stranger introduced himself as Kanji Nakamura, protector of the songstress Shizuka. They both worked in this district. And they more than obviously couldn’t keep their goddamn hands off each other.

This romantic crap was happening far too often lately.

The heat in Sakura’s cheeks seemed to burn him as he gritted his teeth and tried to take half-calm breaths. All so he wouldn’t go completely insane. Or to miss the fact that Kanji belonged to the Roppa-Ichiza, and that they were a group that knew how to break other people’s noses – and were in contact with Tsubakino. Shizuka worked in the same bar, on the same stage, probably even with the same goal.

All the explanations almost flew over Sakura’s head. Some things didn’t quite fit together. But the offer to let them lead everyone to Tsubakino couldn’t be refused.

》 CHERRY BLOSSOM《

Show Pub Ougi wasn’t a place Nirei would have ever let them into without calling Tsubakino about forty times to make sure. It was a nice establishment with a dark atmosphere and the smell of perfume in the air that combined with alcohol. The stage, which took up almost half the room, assured Sakura that everyone was looking at this one spot while he ordered some food, settled on a table, and gradually slipped the meat of the house between his teeth the second it arrived.

It was good. Exactly what Tsubakino had promised. It was almost enough to make him feel comfortable among all these people and enjoy the peaceful atmosphere. The tension had left him thanks to the brawl.

But then Tsubakino appeared.

Sakura’s hair stood on end when he saw him up there. Barely clothed, with a firm grip on a metal pole, while music played in the background. Haruka paid little attention to the melody. Instead, his eyes were glued to Tsubakino. On the snake-like movements he performed before pulling himself powerfully up the pole. With one leg wrapped around the metal, he seemed to hold up solely with the muscles of his calves and thighs. As if he could otherwise simply let go of the pole and fly away. As if he were really free.

He stuffed the next piece of meat a little deeper down his throat. It was a horrible dance. Not ugly. Not offensive. Just horrible. Similar to a horror film that you could get excited about, even though it felt uncomfortable. Maybe because Tsubakino managed something that kept slipping away from Sakura. Because if he was honest, just for a second, what he was running away from kept catching up with him. Because he hadn’t found himself yet.

Because he was walking on a very thin line, praying he wouldn’t fall, fearing the consequences.

Because he couldn’t be open with anyone. Not after he had been thrown out of his home for no longer fitting in.

So colourfully chaotic and repulsive. So physically misshapen.

So unable to forget the image of that time when he had stood in front of the mirror in his white summer dress and thought for a second that he might be able to please everyone if he didn’t ask for a pair of trousers. Everything until he had found something halfway nice about this scrap of fabric, which Tsubakino would probably have appreciated much more than he had.

His teeth clanked on the fork. It hurt.

He couldn’t show it. Unaffected. Unimpressed.

Still, his eyes kept gliding in Tsubakino’s direction. Fascinated. Spellbound.

And in those seconds, Sakura knew, more clearly than ever, that he was probably disgusting.

Chapter Text

»Sakura-kun is strong … but he looks tired.«

Suo Hayato
This evening to Nirei.

Don’t look. Blank out. Ignore.

Three rules that Sakura had made at some point. Not because they worked, but because they at least pretended to do so. They gave the chaos a framework, a makeshift structure so as not to drown.

This time, too, they helped to make the time fly by. Tsubakino’s performance ended, and something inside Sakura slumped in relief. But he continued to chew. He forced himself to choke down the bland meat, even though it didn’t taste bad. It was just the hunger that was missing. The pleasure. As if he had forgotten what it felt like to be hungry. But who knew when he would next get meat between his teeth? On top, the food was at Tsubakino’s expense. Like this, he could nourish his body and prepare for the next few weeks, when he could only eat side dishes again.

Makochi’s people mostly gave away vegetables. Stuff he would have had to cook and which he mostly ate raw, although he hated it because there was nothing more than electricity and water in this small, run-down refuge he called home. No gas to prepare a meal.

In the background, he heard Nirei reprimanding him, and although he probably should have looked up to show he cared, he couldn’t manage anything. His thoughts remained with himself. Alone and somehow content with that, because it was easier than having conversations, which usually seemed far too complicated to him. Discussions were like labyrinths – every word a possible wrong turn, every silence a hidden failure. He often got lost in them.

Once he opened his mouth. Just a little. Only to swallow again immediately afterwards. Words formed and shattered in the next breath. It was as if his insides had a language that no one ever wanted to hear. So why speak at all?

He preferred to listen. Hearing Suo’s silence, he felt Tsubakino’s closeness, whose laughter touched him like a ray of sunshine. Nirei clung to the fact that they were in a place aimed at adults. In between a few words from Tsubakino, who was sitting right next to Haruka, wearing this tight, black, belly-baring top that exposed his muscles. It was hard to concentrate on the old man’s progress – the one they had visited once –, which was mentioned in passing, when someone like Tsubakino was talking about it. Especially in those clothes, with that make-up, full of sparkle in his eyes that Sakura couldn’t comprehend. How did he live his life like this? How did he get things together when there were surely enough people who looked at him with disgust? All this with his bright eyes and an open heart that bowed and gave thanks as if this world was a friendly place.

He found no answer in the third year's attitude.

So he looked away, cheeks stuffed with flesh as if he could stifle the need to say a word. Even if he dared to speak, what would it have meant? His phrases carried no weight. Whenever he’d had something to say, his wishes and hopes had always been brushed off by others. He had been taught early on that silence was wiser. That listening was sufficient. That you learnt a few things if you kept your mouth shut long enough. He wasn’t smart. Wasn’t important. He had repeated countless classes. The fact people wanted to hear his opinion was nothing more than kindness, which he wasn’t allowed to accept.

“It’s come to my attention that you and the first years stopped a drunken brawl. Is that true?”

Sakura’s stomach tightened. He swallowed, blinking twice at Tsubakino’s words. Only then did he notice Kanji, who was carrying a few plates around and helping anyone who needed him. At Tasuku’s question, he stopped, scrutinised him briefly and then put a hand to his head apologetically. The smile on his lips seemed almost genuine. But Haruka saw it immediately – that tiny tremor that betrayed a truth no one wanted to know. That tired gesture that contained more than was said. And then, a lie. A cut through a subject that no one wanted to broach.

He held the fork tighter. His fingers clutched at the metal as if he could find support that way. His body tensed, ready to support Kanji. After all, they had agreed to remain silent. No one wanted to pass on the burden that Shizuka had endured to Tsubakino. Because how was he supposed to deal with it? He would probably explode. Hunt and curse these boys. And then what? Nothing would be better. Everything would just get worse.

But Tsubakino didn’t ask. Instead, the third-year nodded before shaking his head and lifting his glass of orange juice. “My God, you’re practically the guardian of Keisei Street, aren’t you? Get a grip.”

Sakura’s thoughts shut down. There was no need to worry or follow up. Kanji didn’t need help. Not from him. Not from someone whose voice counted for nothing. If you could get away with a lie, why risk someone tearing down the facade? And even if he was found out, did it matter? He doubted it. It was probably just as unimportant as everything else in this place. So why think about something that had no importance? He wasn’t a part of this conversation.

He was never part of anything.

Then, suddenly, Sakura heard anticipatory gasps that were immediately followed by Kanji’s demand for silence. When he lifted his gaze, it was Shizuka who had found a place on the stage. She looked better than she had earlier. No longer rushed. Calmer than before, shoulders less tense, her eyes no longer ready to flee. A little relieved, if he had to judge. Perhaps it was the light that made her pale skin look warmer.

The next moment she opened her mouth and started a song, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. He didn’t understand a single word of what she was saying. It was probably English. One subject of many that had caused him to do extra classes. Twenty-six letters, of which he had only memorised “A” because it looked like a ladder. One that he could never climb.

Still, he couldn’t turn away from her. Her voice felt like a gentle breeze on a hot summer day. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just gentle. Almost affectionate. Something that lay against one’s skin and tried to make people realise they weren’t alone in the world.

Mouth open, distracted from the food, Haruka listened. Part of him – the one that sometimes secretly longed for warmth – wanted to believe in that voice. Wanted her to mean him. Just for that tiny instant, because the thought behind it harboured a warmth that he would probably never experience for himself. In the end, it was just a song. Just a voice. Just a comfort that wasn’t meant for him.

Eventually, Sakura shook it off and shoved the food between his teeth once more. The surrounding scene faded slowly, until Shizuka suddenly appeared at Tsubakino’s side, and they both fell into a lively conversation that didn’t reach him. It just bounced off, and that was good. He was all alone, wrapped in a small, quiet bubble that protected him from the world – or at least pretended to do so.

But then, a heavy gasp shattered the silence. A blond guy stumbled over to Kanji, who was about to collect a few more plates. Unable to wait until he had reached him, he shouted out his message halfway there. “The gang! Those lunatics are back!”

At first, it seemed as if no one cared. A few heads turned. Kanji was about to make a joke, his mouth half open, probably to dismiss the whole thing as a stupid drunken act. But the fair-haired guy was quicker.

“It’s the same group as before! They’re roaming the streets, tearing down signs, attacking customers and looking for Shizuka.”

They hadn’t given up yet. There was still some fight in them.

For a few seconds, there was a strange silence. Then, out of nowhere, Sakura was struck by a feeling he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Not fear. Not anger. It was ... relief. It was bad, and welcome at the same time.

Again, he could do something right. Once again, there was something his hands could do instead of just idly stuffing food into his body. Maybe it was even an opportunity, a clean finish to this evening of uncertainty. A chance to prove his worth – not to others, but to himself.

His body reacted faster than his head. He stood up and let the fork clink back on the plate. What others wanted, demanded or needed from him didn’t matter right now. Every muscle knew where it belonged. He moved towards the exit with firm steps, followed, oddly enough, by Suo and Nirei. As always. As if it were a matter of course that they would accompany him to the end of the world.

“Hey, you should stay here!” Kanji interjected, and for a moment it sounded like the kind of joke he’d heard far too often when someone pretended to care about someone else. Stupid, and yet – with that facade Sakura kept up – it was imaginable that an older person would plead to protect the younger ones. And perhaps there was a hint of worry there, too. One of those quiet, awkward ways of saying, “Take care of yourself,” without outright voicing it.

Sakura paused for a breath. Just long enough for the thought to sink in. Maybe Kanji wasn’t wrong. Maybe it would be more sensible to leave it all to others. But this was his fight, too.

“If it’s those guys from earlier, then it doesn’t matter what the reason behind it is. I’ve already punched them once.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Means this one’s my problem, too.”

Then he moved again. Step by step, he separated from the room, from the heaviness that had been in the air, and exited into the open.

The outside world brought a biting freshness that Sakura sucked deep into his lungs. Rushing along the path, feeling the wind in his hair, knowing that something was waiting for him at the end of this way where he could unwind, triggered a fluttery feeling in his stomach. A moment of salvation. Maybe not peace, but something close to it. A sense of freedom, of lightness, of exuberant superiority that would have collapsed like a house of cards any other second.

But not now.

Not in these fleeting moments as they approached a small cloud of dust in the distance.

If he narrowed his eyes to slits, he could see limbs tangling. Fists crashed into faces with a dull thud, and legs rammed into stomachs. Most of the Roppo-Ichiza were already there – angry, determined and merciless. They thrashed their way through the crowd, clearing out anyone who hesitated for even a split second. A wild, unpredictable chaos, and yet exactly what made Sakura’s heart beat faster.

The first row had long since fallen by the time they reached the turmoil. Behind it, the next one was stomping their feet, ready to throw themselves into the chaos with full force. Someone demanded to see Shizuka. Another spat on the ground in disdain. None of them cared who was already lost and who wasn't. Until Kanji shot past them and kicked the first person standing near him in the chest with all his might. The man took off, flying a little before crashing to the ground.

Sakura watched him as he worked his way through the ranks as if he were a storm. His fist hit an opponent in the face, sending him reeling backwards, while his elbow crashed into the cheekbone of another in the very next moment. He seemed unstoppable. Just like Umemiya. Both possessed raw power that made the hairs on the back of one’s neck stand up. Charisma that made one realise that there was still something challenging out there. Something that made you feel alive.

And it pulled Sakura with it.

One blow, no hesitation. His heart raced up to his throat as his fist crashed into his opponent’s cheekbone with a sharp crack. Resistance that emphasised he wasn’t just imagining all this. It was just as real as the last fight. Just as pure and chaotic as he remembered.

His first opponent collapsed with a gasp as Sakura’s knee slammed deep into his stomach. The next one who tried to pounce on him was too slow. Haruka appeared next to him, rammed his fist against the attacker’s temple, and he simply toppled to the side. Another face that disappeared. One of many.

The sheer size of the crowd was overwhelming. But in the middle of all this turmoil was something comforting. Something more reassuring than the chaos inside. Something that loosened the knot that still lingered on Tsubakino’s performance and his own torn body.

Repeatedly.

As if he had pressed the damn loop button.

In the next blink, everything happened all at once. Three strangers threw themselves at him; a rushed movement of shadows and muscles. He instinctively ducked and spun around, his foot quick as a whip. It crashed against a chin. Simultaneously, he flung his arm back, digging his fist into the abdomen of the attacker behind him. Air escaped with a gasp, bodies staggered back. There was space for the third, whose fist was aimed at Sakura’s ribs, but he was too stiff.

Haruka reacted with a quick sidestep, then he grabbed his opponent’s arm and pulled him forwards, kicking him in the knee. A crack, a scream. A sound that echoed in his’s skull but didn’t register. Instead, his breathing became faster. The world shrank. No more voices. No more faces. Only movements, perspectives, and targets. All that existed right now was this moment. A certainty that he belonged in exactly this place. Not maybe. Not somehow. It was a fact. Something he could indulge in without having to worry.

A fist emerged from his blind spot. Sakura heard it – someone else’s roar – and spun just in time to block with his forearm. His own fist reacted faster than he could think, and it hit his opponent’s stomach like a sledgehammer. The body doubled over and fell to its knees, gasping.

In the next breath, he dodged someone else, and felt the breeze on his neck. Then he rammed his elbow upwards. An impact against a jaw. Dull. Dry. Teeth clattered like stones. No hesitation. No sympathy. Only rhythm. He felt the chaos inside him fade. No more anger, no more pressure. Just instinct, and emptiness he could cling to.

Two more pounced on him. One from the front, the other from the side. Sakura jumped back half a step, let the first one hit nothing, then kicked to the side with all his strength. His leg crashed into the shoulder of the second. The latter staggered, lost his footing and went down. Meanwhile, the first came again, but Haruka was quicker; with two well-aimed punches to the face.

Haruka’s breath came in gasps. Every punch, every impact, every evasive move – everything worked. Everything functioned, like a machine that was finally running. It could have gone on like this forever. Here he was strong, free, unbound, and able to really change or improve something. Maybe even put a smile on someone’s face, even if it seemed worthless and fragile. Here he could win people over temporarily because his body didn’t matter. His fists did.

A hard hit to his shoulder nearly knocked him off his feet. Sakura sank unsteadily to one knee, feeling the trembling in his muscles. But in the next instant he gasped for air, pushed to his feet, dodged a sideways strike and countered with a low kick that swept his opponent’s legs out from under him. He hit the ground hard at the exact moment Haruka rammed his knee into his chest. The other’s breathing turned into a screech.

Slowly, Sakura got to his feet, turned around and saw two more attackers getting too close to one of the Roppo-Ichiza. He seemed overwhelmed, too weak to master this alone. So Haruka took a running start. He jumped off with full force and rammed both feet into the back of the first opponent. The guy was pulled to the ground, belly down, before Sakura landed on top of him. A fist flew towards him in panic, and he ducked, grabbed the wrist and threw the opponent with all his strength against the next one, who was staggering towards them. Both collided with each other and fell like cards. Neither got up again.

Someone shouted in the background. Sakura barely heard it. His pulse rushed in his ears, mingling with his panting. There was also the dry, cracking sound of bone meeting bone. Noise that he appreciated. In this state, he could continue to strike, kick, dodge and grab whenever necessary. Without a plan, but with perfection. And his opponents fell. One after the other. Some tried to crawl away. Others stayed down. Still, the crowd hardly diminished. There was no end in sight, no way to gain the upper hand, because more and more guys came crawling out of every corner to fight this battle.

All because of one girl.

Another blow came from the left. Sakura ducked, kicked the attacker’s leg away and then slammed a fist into his chest so hard that the stranger slumped down, gasping. His attention only lingered briefly on the unknown man, so that he still recognised the dull thud of the impact. His fingers were burning by now, throbbing under the pressure and resistance that pressed against him. The heaviness in his legs ached, but his head was empty.

Everything was a battle.

Everything was good.

And then he saw him. Kanji.

He came like a force of nature, marching through the crowd. Wild and untamed, like a demon that wouldn’t be brought to its knees. One of his opponents fell after a brutal blow to the liver. Another tried to fight back but was elbowed in the face. Sakura saw blood spray, saw Kanji turn, kick and strike. Without compromise.

It was a bit like art – not that he had ever understood anything about wild splashes of colour on a white canvas. What he did understand, however, was that Kanji possessed the power of a man that he would have liked to have for himself. Strength that couldn’t be mistaken for weakness.

Sakura swallowed, staring a little too long. Out of nowhere, a sudden blow struck him on the shoulder and spun him around. His attacker grinned. Haruka grinned back – and kicked him in the chest. The guy collapsed. Haruka, however, sprinted off.

He had to get in there. To Kanji.

He needed this moment, this confirmation. This opportunity to prove that, despite everything, he was no worse than someone who was complete.

Another idiot tried to stop him, with arms outstretched and a mocking laugh on his face. With just as little fear as everyone else. As if it was normal to see his friends fall because there was no place for losers among the best. It was disgusting. Not right. And far too easy to overcome when Sakura ducked under a wobbly punch from the stranger, grabbed him by the collar immediately after and pushed him against another with momentum. They stumbled into each other, crashed to the ground, and Haruka jumped over them – straight to Kanji.

The leader of the Roppo-Ichiza had just knocked another guy against a wall and was punching him with his fist. Sakura stood next to him, for protection and perhaps also a little to feel bigger next to someone else. Kanji only turned to him briefly, not a word, just a look. Then the next attack.

He raised his fists. Kanji was already advancing. One came from the right, aiming at Haruka with narrowed brows. Sakura punched him in the stomach, then kicked him in the chest. Meanwhile, Kanji grabbed the other by the collar, pulled him into a half turn and punched him three times - face, ribs, face again. The guy staggered backwards, so Haruka used the moment to kick him in the back of the knee. All without dialogue. They knew who was doing what. Perfectly coordinated, as if it had never been otherwise. This was exactly how a fight had to be. Nobody had to ask anything. Only reactions mattered. Movements that told you what role you had to play. Maybe it really was possible to go on like this forever. Perhaps Makochi would give him a sense of lightness that he had never received anywhere else.

He wanted to believe it.

Until a shiver ran down his spine, accompanied by a loud sigh that rolled over them all. “You went off with so many people, and you’re still at the start? Let’s finally get this over with. Then we can eat all the BBQ we can dream of!”

Slowly, Sakura’s gaze wandered over to a new crowd of thugs. Another endless number of idiots who didn’t know when to give up. In this case, a guy in loose clothing and with black hair tied up in a small bun. Not someone who looked strong, but he had the same ability as everyone else: he knew how to talk about things that didn’t matter.

Still, he listened with one ear as Kanji complained about the crowd, and the stranger waved it off. “The ones from earlier aren’t with us. They were separate.”

“Separate?” Out of the corner of his eye, Haruka saw the leader of the Roppo-Ichiza furrow his brows as if he would love to get his hands on this guy on the other side to show he had no business being here. But this stranger wasn’t intimidated for a second.

A sound of affirmation escaped his throat. “Because they messed up the job, it ended up with us. We are GRAVEL. Just a bunch of dudes from the Sunaba district.” He raised his hand. “Nice to meet you guys.”

“S-Sunaba District’s GRAVEL?” A voice grew loud behind Sakura. Panic mingled with disbelief, causing him to glance over his shoulder. To Nirei. He had almost forgotten that he and Suo even existed.

“You know them?” Haruka asked.

“The district is famous for its outcasts. The economy there has stalled, which has led to a lot of theft and other crimes.” Nirei clung so tightly to one of the glowing display signs that he looked almost ghostly. “I heard there’s a bunch of people there who don’t go to school or work and make their money selling stuff or taking jobs from other groups. They do the dirty work.”

“They offered us money just to pick up a skank. And because the guys from earlier failed, the price has gone up too,” added the leader of GRAVEL. “We can all go out for BBQ with the money. So ... hand over Shizuka Narita, okay?” He shrugged his shoulders. “Besides, we’re not here to pick a fight. You give us the girl, and we’ll leave. You guys look pretty beaten up. You won’t be able to win with the difference in our numbers, even if you are crazy strong.”

Sakura looked the guy up and down thoughtfully. It was ridiculous. GRAVEL were many. Far too many. So how were he and the others supposed to win when most of them were already exhausted and his own powers wouldn’t last forever either? Even if it was nothing more than false respect for his duties as grade captain, he couldn’t possibly drag Suo and Nirei into this mess and risk them getting hurt. Especially not Nirei. He couldn’t fail like this again while he was still sane.

Briefly, he pressed his lips together. It shouldn’t matter, shouldn’t be important who got into what kind of trouble, as long as some of the tension left him. Then again, if he listened to himself, there wasn’t a time when he hadn’t wanted to help. Maybe because his life was shitty enough that he didn’t want anyone else to experience it.

“It doesn’t matter to me if I win. You’re probably under the wrong impression.” Kanji’s voice snapped Sakura out of his thoughts. A shiver ran down his spine, a hint of something he wanted to grasp because it sounded so much simpler than what was going on inside him. Perhaps if he waited, the solution would be given to him.

“We, the Roppo-Ichiza, want the people here to safely pursue their arts, and we also want them to safely enjoy entertainment. That is our goal. As long as that can be assured, it doesn’t matter if we win or not.”

Mouth agape, Sakura couldn’t follow the rest. It sounded simple enough, even for him. Just drop everything and fight for a cause without looking back. No interest in Nirei or Suo.

Exactly what he wanted to embody.

But the truth was he couldn’t look away. Suo covered his back whenever necessary, and it was the least he could do to return the favour. Nirei, however, was exactly what Sakura knew from himself. Somehow helpless and useless. The only difference was that Nirei wasn’t stupid, in complete contrast to Haruka. Only his fists spoke for him. Violence, as his mother had said, which he acted out because he was a dumb kid.

Living like the Roppo-Ichiza probably meant giving up the last bit of humanity he was trying to preserve in order not to become like his parents. Just a bit of sympathy was enough. That didn’t mean that he let anyone get close to him. Just that he had a certain amount of humanity. And perhaps that thinking made him incompatible with this situation, in which Kanji lashed out and punched the next one in the face while two new opponents made their attack.

The first came with a clenched fist and too much anger on his face. Sakura dodged, kicked him in the side and then punched him on the nose. No defence, no plan. Just misdirected energy.

The next one hesitated a moment too long, so Sakura seized the opportunity and kicked him in the shin. Immediately afterwards, he followed up with an uppercut that sent his chin snapping back. A kick to the chest ended the sequence. But the exhaustion spread through him like a traitor, just like it did through all the others. They wouldn’t last much longer. Not like this.

In the next blink, he heard footsteps behind him. He turned around – too late. A third attacker was already jumping. Sakura could only throw up his arms. Then the force of the impact hit him and flung him backwards. He lost his balance and fell. The ground met him. He rolled off the ground just in the nick of time, forcing his body back onto his feet for his opponent’s next attack – and then Kanji came. As if out of nowhere, with a powerful jump kick against the stranger’s chest. His body was catapulted back and crashed to the stone surface.

“Perfect timing!” It was no thanks, and yet it sounded appropriate for the moment. At least to Sakura’s ears, it had that brotherly charm sometimes seen with others.

But Kanji didn’t respond. Instead, he turned to face him. His eyes stared into nothingness, wide open, pupils dilated. His chest rose and fell irregularly. His hands trembled. His fists were clenched, knuckles bloody. The demon inside him was still fighting, but there was hardly anything left of his human self.

And then came the blow.

Quickly, with full momentum. Sakura felt his head snap to the side, pain shooting through his face like lightning and exploding in his skull. He staggered, stumbling back a step. The taste of blood burnt on his tongue, in his throat. His heart stumbled. Shock gripped him, and as soon as he caught himself and looked at Kanji blankly, he realised.

The leader of the Roppo-Ichiza simply stood there, his shoulders hunched as if in a trance. His lips were slightly parted, his eyes flickering. He wrestled with his mind, with everything that was supposed to fit together somehow and yet didn’t work.

Was that it?

Was this the truth that awaited someone if they lost themselves too much in the struggle? When you let go and let your inner emptiness run free?

Was this what awaited Sakura when he lost himself in this town?

“You should go back to the bar,” Kanji said somewhere in between. His mind seemed to be coming back. “I promised Tsubaki I’d bring you back unharmed.” He hung his head, just for the blink of an eye. “He’s not going to be happy when he finds out I’ve already broken that promise.”

It was a plea Sakura wanted to overhear. The tightness in his chest, running away while others were losing a battle he was supposed to be a part of – it felt like the day his parents had sent him to this place. Far away from them so they wouldn’t have to see his face anymore. And he had simply agreed because he was powerless against them. Just as weak and useless as in those seconds when he opened his mouth to put up at least a little resistance.

However, his words choked in his throat as the loud cry of a woman reached him. A sharp “Stop it!” that made him whirl around and brought Shizuka into view, wearing jeans and a jumper and hunched over like a child afraid of shadows.

“I’m coming with you!”

Her will swept over them like icy rain, and if Sakura hadn’t seen Tsubakino a few metres behind, he might have shouted something dumb back. This girl made no sense, and yet she stood there and risked this entire fight happening for nothing.

But before she could do anything more stupid, a strange silence fell over the moment. Something changed. The tumult gave way to a sense of importance that hung heavy in the air. And then Tsubakino grabbed her by the wrist to look at her. Not angry or annoyed. There was something else in his gaze. A silent question that Haruka couldn’t hear. All he could do was watch as Tsubakino wordlessly pulled Shizuka into his arms. A moment that felt like a promise. Immediately afterwards, he stepped forward, his eyes fixed unwaveringly on GRAVEL’s leader.

“Do you want to introduce yourself before we dance?” The smile on his blood-red lips was a strange contradiction to the tense silence. In the next breath, he introduced himself. “Tsubakino Tasuku.”

“Suzuri Shuhei,” was the curt reply, his shoulders raised as if he wanted to push the question away. At least until only a few metres separated him from Tsubakino and the fight was within reach.

They were both prepared to put on a show. Something that could only be found between the fronts of a conflict that would otherwise continue until one side could no longer stand – and that would be them. It was far too obvious. They were outmatched. This duel was their only chance to win.

Tsubakino didn’t move. One foot slightly off centre, his arms loose, his gaze sharp. His high heels looked out of place. But it was Shuhei who took the first step; his shoulders low, his body lanky in his oversized shirt, as if he was about to collapse rather than strike. But as soon as he was close enough, there was a flash of movement – a quick hook.

Tsubakino dodged it with a twist. Effortlessly, almost like a dancer. His heels clacked on the floor until his leg shot upwards; a half graceful, half deadly kick to Shuhei’s shoulder. But he was quicker. Before Tsubakino could hit him, he had already ducked and retreated in one leap.

As soon as he landed, he stood upright again. His next movements seemed casual, as if this fight wasn’t a real challenge. Perhaps it was calculation. Or mockery. He tested his opponent with a low, provocative kick to Tsubakino’s thigh. Not hard enough to cause damage. Just enough so that it couldn’t be ignored. Tsubakino let it happen. Then the counterattack came as a lightning-fast high kick. Shuhei backed away, and Tasuku’s heel whizzed past his face by a hair’s breadth.

Haruka clenched his hands into fists. He blinked a few times, a little mesmerised by what was happening. He was still somehow caught between the fronts, but the others around him had stopped fighting too. No one was attacking anymore. Everyone just watched, spellbound by the rhythm of this dance that needed no music. No words were needed. Between gasps and kicks, a dialogue formed that spoke louder than any scream. Fists clashed. Legs cut through the air. Attacks were parried, deflected and smiled at.

Not a single hit.

Just a rhythm that no one but Tsubakino and Shuhei recognised.

Was that what it had looked like between him and Togame?

Sakura shook his head hastily. He didn’t want to get lost in memories, didn’t want to think about past fights. He didn’t want to think about himself. Instead, he wanted to learn to understand this battle. For Tsubakino’s sake. Because he was different, eager to accept his desires fully to get stronger. No weakness. No doubts.

His’s opposite.

And then something shifted.

Tsubakino’s movements became more precise, his kicks more focused. He whirled, kicked down from above, immediately regained his balance and followed up with a fist. Shuhei dodged, ducked, and turned his body to the left, only to be almost elbowed in the face from the right. He narrowly parried and staggered back half a step. But Tsubakino didn’t let up. He pushed off while still moving and hurled his body towards Suzuri with a jump kick. Shuhei blocked it with his forearm, his jaw tense, the pain clearly visible. Then came another kick from Tasuku. This time he hit his opponent’s knee. A fist to the stomach followed in the next blink of an eye.

Shuhei almost fell to his knees but caught himself. His chest rose and fell violently. The relaxed calm on his face no longer existed. His lips moved, but only reached Sakura as a soundless breeze.

What were they talking about?

What conversations did they have in a fight like this?

In the next breath, Shuhei rushed forward. His face dark, he seemed to want to break Tsubakino. Perhaps a single hit would be enough for him. But Tasuku backed away. His weight shifted, his heels clicked, he spun on the spot and let one of his long legs strike in a semicircle. Shuhei crouched hastily, slipping under the kick. But his defence was nothing more than a desperate reflex – a punch from below, aimed at Tsubakino’s back, roughly and without finesse. He missed. Over and over again. All because Tasuku turned far enough to intercept Shuhei’s blow with his shoulder before kicking him backwards in the shin with his heel.

It was just a muffled sound. Not a scream. Not a gasp. Just a dull clap that made Shuhei lose his pace. And Tsubakino seized it with a kick to the ribs. Then a blow to the cheekbones, causing a hollow sound to fly over every spectator and Sakura’s neck hairs to quiver.

Tsubakino took the lead. No, he controlled things. Every step, every blow was part of a mechanism that Shuhei could not oppose. It wasn’t just fighting. It was systematic destruction. And it wasn’t new. Umemiya had done it once too, in his own unique way, and if he thought about it a little longer, Suo also fit into this picture. As if he were untouchable. Unlike Tsubakino, but at least as unstoppable.

Shuhei staggered back. His body shook; his hands trembled as he lifted them to wipe the blood from his face. Then he tried to get moving. He didn’t give up. Maybe he didn’t know how to. Sakura was familiar with that. He wouldn’t have acted any differently, like there was more to gain than a stupid BBQ for himself and his group.

It was so simple.

Shortly before Tsubakino, he stopped and turned in a half crouch, ready to pull his opponent’s legs away. But Tasuku was already in the air. His kick came from above with a grim judgement and a sorrowful look in his blue eyes. And then his heel hit the back of Shuhei’s head, jerking his body forwards. He fell to his knees, lost his balance and slowly slumped to the side.

For a moment, Sakura didn’t dare breathe in. Not when they were all just standing there watching, probably wondering what they were doing. So motionless, even useless.

Tsubakino, meanwhile, took a deep breath, straightened up and slumped his shoulders. Shuhei shook and pushed to his knees, his face covered in blood. No matter how hard he tried to get back on his feet, his body refused. Sakura recognised the weakness in his limbs. His head knew what had to happen, but his body didn’t obey.

How many times had Haruka experienced this himself?

How many times had he trembled and raised his hands because he could no longer stand up to his father’s blows?

And how often had he wondered whether all this would have happened if he had kept his mouth shut and tried to become the girl they had wanted to make him into? Afterwards. When he had been finally old enough to straighten out something on his body. All because they had refrained from putting him under the knife as a newborn.

He should have become “normal” at fourteen.

Instead, he hadn’t been able to find the girl inside him.

When Tsubakino leaned down to Shuhei in the next breath, everything seemed to lose weight. His soft voice was an apology that Haruka could read from his lips. A new, mismatched bond formed, in which both sides understood each other. It was strange that fights had this effect. He had experienced it against Togame. And even in these seconds, he was given the chance to witness such a change. As if there was something special about looking at someone and being able to tell what was going on inside them. But that was impossible. Sakura knew that. He had looked at people often enough and had never understood more than that they didn’t need him. No reason behind it. No story. Just disgust.

It was stupid.

Ridiculous.

Fascinating.

And yet, here they came to a sort of brief understanding. A truce, if you wanted to call it that, in which Shuhei shook his head and Tsubakino gave a weak smile.

“We won’t bother Shizuka Narita anymore.” Slowly, he let Tasuku help him to his feet, as if they were suddenly friends. Yet they were nothing more than strangers who had come to an understanding through a brawl. “I’ll talk to the person who gave us the job and find a solution to take GRAVEL out of here. That way ... we might both be better off.”

“Oh? So we’re talking about this?”

The strange voice came like a cut through the air, from a direction no one could name. Goosebumps shot up Sakura’s spine as it ate into his nerves.

“Exciting, but who’s going to listen to a loser?”

It was deeper than other voices Haruka had heard so far in this town. Mocking, as if from a nightmare, with a sharpness that couldn’t be ignored. As if it came from someone who wasn’t just above the top but had set it on fire.

“You really delivered a half-assed job, dude.” A bored sigh. “Looks like I picked the wrong guy again. But whatever. Another card against Furin is pretty nice too.”

Sakura’s gaze flicked upwards – and froze. There was someone there. A stranger was sitting on the roof of a two-storey building. Black hair. Black tank top. Chequered shirt. His eyes widened. Something about this stranger drew him in.

“What are you doing here?” Tsubakino’s words slipped through his lips; he almost choked. And Sakura felt it clearly in those seconds: the surrounding tension was like a web of wire, ready to snap at any moment.

“Shut up. I’m going where I want to go. It’s always been like this, hasn’t it? Somewhere more fun and where I can feel better.” Sakura thought he saw a smile on the stranger’s lips. One that warmed nothing. “After all, life is just a way to pass the time until death takes you.”

Was that it?

A way to pass the time in hell until you got to know the real underworld?

When the stranger got to his feet and took a step over the edge of the roof, Sakura held his breath. Within one blink, the guy landed in front of them, followed closely by a sharp curse.

“Damn! Hurts more than I thought...” Snorting, he straightened up. “It always looks so easy in films.” A laugh escaped him, cold enough to make Sakura take a step back, while Tsubakino and Kanji held their ground, pale as corpses. “Why so dismissive? We should celebrate our reunion. That would really get my blood pumping.”

He ran his thumb over a tattooed infinity sign on his neck. Just one of many dark green lines that covered his shoulders, arms and hands. A simple gesture.

The gesture of a monster.

Like a bolt of lightning, it coursed through Sakura’s body, burning into his senses and causing his body to react long before he understood it. Positioned with Suo in front of Nirei, he stared down at the stranger, piercing him with his eyes as if it would change anything about this absurdly tense situation.

“Oh wow, cool!” The grin on the unknown’s features widened as he clapped his hands and tilted his head. “The little heroes play big boys.”

“You just need something from me, Endo-san,” Shuhei interjected abruptly. “They have nothing to do with this. Let me talk to you alone. We’ll find a solution. Let’s go somewhere else.”

It sounded like one of those desperate attempts to dissuade a beast from its prey. The leader of GRAVEL probably sensed it himself. The way his hands shook even though he pretended that none of this could intimidate him made Sakura swallow. Was there anything they could do? Could they stop this guy from doing anything if-

His thought got no further when Endo swung his hand out in a flash to smash it into the side of Shuhei’s face. The impact lifted Suzuri off the ground and sent him tumbling backwards to the ground, where he crumpled over, gasping, his hands in front of his bleeding face.

“Don’t just interrupt this reunion. I’m having a good time right now.” Endo sighed, as if it was all just theatre that wasn’t entertaining enough for him. “Tsubaki, aren’t you going to introduce me to your cute first years? Like you’re supposed to?”

Tsubakino remained silent. His lips were a pale line. Finally, he forced out the words, “Endo Yamato. Former student of Furin.”

“A legend...” whispered Nirei in reply. “He’s said to have been one of the strongest until he left.”

“You flatter me.” A soft chuckle crossed Yamato’s features. A noise that sounded like someone driving needles over glass. “But you like to exaggerate, huh?”

So he had turned his back on Bofurin. A simple gesture that Sakura could understand. After all, this obsessive family behaviour was nothing more than a burden that either made you stronger or weaker. So this guy had decided to do what seemed easiest.

At least until Tsubakino threw off the formalities and brought everything to a bit more of a standstill with his words. “You’re behind this, aren’t you? This. All of it.”

Endo nodded barely visibly. “Sharp as ever, aren’t you?”

Sakura immediately clenched his hands into fists. All understanding seemed to fade. His body rebelled, resisting the calm he was trying to maintain. That guy there, that supposed legend who had taken even Tsubakino’s breath away, was nothing more than a guy who used others. He was a player. And they were his pawns. Perhaps he had given up his humanity altogether.

Just like most of the adults out here.

“And you’re supposed to be a legend?” Sakura clenched his teeth. Then he shouted it out, maybe too loud. He barely noticed. “If you send others to do your dirty work, you're nothing but a worthless asshole!"

That was the only truth he could find. Something inside him was crying out to cling to this one feeling because everything else was threatening to slip away. After all, the behaviour of this man in front of him – cold, arrogant, so disdainful – was wrong. It had to be wrong.

But Endo didn’t care about what he had to say. He didn’t care about Sakura’s anger or his conviction. The smug grin on his features remained unchanged. He didn’t even flinch at Haruka’s words.

“You’re really interesting,” was all he said. “But let’s be honest ... Furin is no place for you.” He raised his brows. “When I look at you like that ... you simply don’t belong there.”

Immediately, Sakura opened his mouth. It was true. He didn’t fit in at Furin. Was it that obvious? Did his mere manner betray him? The way he walked, talked, and looked? Had he ever really fit in, or was he just a foreign body learning to move inconspicuously?

He really tried. Even if it was unimportant and idiotic, part of him wanted to belong to Furin somehow, wanted to bind his being to something greater than himself. Maybe because he was fighting to get to the top, and until then he had to use every advantage he was given. Or maybe because, even if his head kept denying it, he liked being with Suo and Nirei.

Endless reasons. And yet, they all felt meaningless.

Too many possibilities. And none of them gave him any support.

None of it seemed to have relevance. If people could see that he didn’t belong, that he didn’t fit into this family, why was he trying? Why all these questions and doubts when he was probably more like Endo than Umemiya?

The thought hit him harder than any fist. Suddenly everything seemed to shake. The last time he had tried to be part of a family – of his own real kin – he had almost collapsed. Somewhere between an operation he had refused and the fact he would never be the girl his parents had wanted so much.

So ... why fight?

Why this place?

Why this mask?

What was he trying to save with all this?

And worse – what was he actually trying to prove?

“Take that back right now!” Nirei’s roar tore through the air like a whiplash. It chased through Haruka’s marrow and made his muscles twitch before his gaze darted to the fair-haired boy. “Sakura is an integral part of Bofurin! He belongs to us, and a ... stupid idiot like you won’t change that!”

“Nire-kun is absolutely right,” Suo interjected, his voice a little lower than usual. His eye stared Endo down, like a knife to a neck. “It’s dangerous to make inappropriate comments when you don’t even know the person you’re talking to.”

But no one moved. None of them put one foot in front of the other. All they had left were words. A small proof he was part of the whole for others. Suo and Nirei didn’t see how out of place he was. They stood behind him. Just like that.

“Cute. Having a couple of guard dogs by your side is nice.” Yamato shrugged, his hair falling into his forehead, slightly wavy, as if carelessly styled. “You know what? I feel well enough entertained to sort out your little problem. Or rather, GRAVEL’s little problem. Aren’t I nice?” He smirked, almost as if he was complimenting himself. Then he simply turned, raised his hand and sauntered away.

He threatened to disappear as if nothing had happened. As if he had never been there. And he also threatened to leave that crushing feeling inside Sakura, unable to fight back or shake off the thought. Haruka’s head had been empty thanks to the fights. He had been free, only to find himself back in chains because of this asshole.

He wasn’t allowed to win.

Not like this.

Sakura didn’t scream as his body moved on its own and he charged towards Endo. Not a word, not a sign. Just sheer desperation, combined with the desire to breathe freely once more. Here and now, he would put this idiot in his place and emphasise his point. With his fist balled, he hurled it at his opponent with all his might. Wild, raw, full of weight. But Yamato barely moved. For a single second, it seemed easy. For a moment – just one – it felt right.

But then Endo turned with his next step, lightning fast and nimble on his feet. His hand shot forward, catching Sakura’s fist, like a father stopping a child who was getting carried away. In the next breath, without an expression on his face, he struck.

His fist hit Sakura on the side of his face. Not loud, not spectacular, but with such precision and force that Haruka’s head was jerked around and his whole body was dragged half a step along. Before he could recover, the second blow followed. Not a fist this time. Just a flat hand, but with his entire arm behind it. Directly on the chest. A bit like Suo sometimes did to others.

The impact was like a jackhammer, pressing against the unevenness of his bound breasts behind the cheap chest binder. The force threw Sakura backwards. The air shot out of his lungs; he crashed to the floor and rolled halfway to the side but couldn’t get back to his feet. He wanted to breathe but failed. There was only pressure in his chest, a flickering tremor in his head. Endo stood over him. Calm. Unmoved. A grin on his lips. Like an executioner who knew his work was done.

“Looks like I have another card up my sleeve against Furin.” He glanced briefly at his flat hand. “You really should invest in better material.”

Sakura coughed. A sharp, rattling sound that contained more fear than pain. No one had ever hit him there like that before. No one had ever sensed what he wanted to hide. The cheap material had always been enough. Sure, sometimes it cut into his flesh or came loose, but no one but him had ever noticed.

Until now.

His breathing was ragged, irregular, and shaky. And there was that grin above him. Those piercing green eyes.

Sakura wanted to scream, but no sound came out. Just a shallow breath. His mind was racing. Panic was eating away at him, bit by bit.

“We’ll definitely see each other again soon, bo–” Endo didn’t get any further before he narrowly dodged a powerful kick from Suo. A rescue that Sakura barely noticed.

Pressing a hand to his chest, he felt how much softer he was there. Not hard. Not masculine. Not what you would expect or what one wanted to see. Only what he had always hated. What he hid. What he fought against. It was fat tissue that he couldn’t get rid of even when he exercised until every bone in his body ached.

With his lips pressed together, he tried to calm his racing heart, to pull himself together, to stop the trembling under his skin. But it got worse. It couldn’t be stopped. It shook him. Tore at him. There wasn’t enough air; the pressure was too much.

Endo knew it. He had noticed it.

The secret he had been keeping was now in someone else’s hands.

He would suffocate. And maybe that wasn’t as bad as it felt. Maybe all these problems would stop if he just disappeared.

“Sakura-san, are you okay?” The voice was soft. A hand on his shoulder. Nirei.

A touch that burnt him. It hit him like electricity.

With a jolt, Haruka was back on his feet. “Everything’s fine!”

His voice was too loud, too excited, too shaken to explain his thoughts. He crossed his arms frantically, as if he could hold himself together. And then he turned away.

He couldn’t stay.

Not in a place where he had been caught.

Chapter Text

»She makes me smile, even if she is the reason why I feel bad.«

– Suo Hayato
To his mother's first nurse.

Suo Hayato is a monster.

That was one of those phrases from middle school that people had whispered behind his back in the corridors, half believing that he hadn’t noticed. But Suo had always listened. Ever since primary school – perhaps out of habit, or maybe out of necessity. Listening meant control, and control was security. Or at least the closest thing to it.

But silence couldn’t be overheard. It gave him nothing he could use. And that was what worried him about Sakura. This heavy quiet since that moment when Yamato Endo had brought him to his knees with a well-aimed blow. After that, his friend had fled. Too quickly, too abruptly, as if he hadn’t just lost the fight.

Losing was unpleasant; Suo knew that. But Haruka's reaction had still thrown him off balance. The way he had slapped Nirei’s hand away and then started walking home, arms crossed tightly in front of his chest while his eyes searched for a direction – Hayato didn’t know if it had been because of the pain or something else. Something his friend might not have been able to put into words. Fear, perhaps. Not the sudden, blazing kind, but the slow one that silently consumed you until it bent your back and drove you through empty streets like a shadow fleeing from its own reflection.

Sighing, Hayato ran a brush through his brown hair. A few light movements that brought order, which hardly calmed him this time. Routines had their limits. His fingers hesitated as he reached for the tassel earrings that had been with him for years. They gave him a kind of stability when nothing else seemed safe.

They had accompanied Sakura home. He and Nirei. Or rather, they had followed him like silent witnesses, unable to start a conversation with him or ask what was wrong. And although Akihiko had started several times, raising his hand as if to break the silence, their friend hadn’t reacted. He hadn’t even flinched.

And then he had slammed the front door of his home in their faces.

With a shake of his head, Hayato pushed the memory to the back of his mind. Then he adjusted the patch on his right eye once more before turning his attention to the television in the room. It was a modern device that hung on the wall and played the news. The same old tune that didn’t change much.

A criminal had been caught. A body had been recovered near the Senkan shipyard. Someone had received an award for exemplary performance. Then the weather report, along with the day’s horoscope.

Suo switched off the screen and took a breath. The silence that followed felt heavier than the sound of the news. In this place, even with the help of Furin and the other schools, nothing changed. A few kids beating each other up was nothing compared to all those with guns and enough hate in their bodies to do the wrong thing.

What Furin was doing was good. But sometimes he wondered if “good” was enough. Or whether it had ever been sufficient. Perhaps it was just a band-aid on a wound that had long since become too deep. And it would probably never get better than that. Not even if they had had the power to change anything.

He tried to detach himself from it, not wanting to sink deeper into thoughts that were only choking him. Suo didn’t want to waste time on problems that he was far too small for. His master had taught him a long time ago that it was more important to do good where you were instead of thinking about all the things that couldn’t be done alone.

And yet something nagged at him. It was the question of whether that was really enough, whether it had ever been a good thought. Because if everyone followed this advice, would there still be violence at all? Or just alternative forms of it? Perhaps there would be no room left for people who wanted to protect. For people like him. Or like Sakura, who seemed so lost that sometimes you didn’t know if he could ever really be found.

So Suo shook off his doubts, worries, and desires and slipped into his light-coloured trench coat. This Sunday belonged to him. Just him and his family, who were probably already waiting for him – armed with thousands of questions. Just like always.

The certainty tugged at the corners of his mouth. A small, honest smile, triggered by the thought that there was someone with whom he could share all this. This life that often seemed too hard. It was right. It probably even earthed him a little.

From this perspective, it was easy to open the sliding door to the outside and leave the old Sengan-en in which he had been housed. He left everything that didn’t belong to him behind. What remained was Hayato Suo, the boy with an unconventional taste in fashion and a relaxed attitude.

His legs carried him down the street to the staircase that led to the busier streets of the city. Some days he took the steps double to get to school faster and see the others. But today he touched each one deliberately and carefully. As if he wanted to stretch out the time he had left before he arrived.

The air was warm, almost suffocating, and the wind brought little relief. It wouldn’t be long before Japan would succumb to the heat of summer. Until then, the walk to the nearby bus stop would remain bearable.

No one approached him. No student of Furin’s met him. The shops and streets were half-empty, hardly a single car whizzed past him, and when he boarded a bus to reach his destination, it was as if he blended seamlessly into the silence. His head was empty, his body seemed light, but beneath the surface there was this fluttering. A restless mixture of hope, fear, and a feeling he couldn’t put his finger on.

An hour later, he got off at the bus stop near the hospital. The concrete block with its countless windows greeted him like an old friend, similar to the reception desk behind which the same woman nodded to him as she had done for the past four years.

Nothing changed in this place. The staff was always the same. He noticed newcomers, but they rarely stayed longer than after their training and then moved to the big cities. The corridors were familiar. He could count the numbers with his eye closed, and when he arrived in front of his mother’s room, Suo straightened his shoulders one last time before slipping inside.

It was the same old picture.

Her bed was by the window so she could see the garden that had been cultivated behind the clinic. She was sitting upright, the covers pulled up to her stomach, her skin pale and marked by patches of red rash. There were flowers on the table to her side – presumably donated by a nurse – and the daylight bathed the single room in a friendly mixture of light brown floor and beige walls.

“Are you there?” His voice was quiet, almost timid, as if he feared the answer; afraid of what might be different today. It took a moment for her to turn towards him. Her hair, thin and brown, barely moved, and her eyes stared into nothingness.

“Hayato?” She blinked a few times. Her expression looked lacklustre, as if she were already blind, even though she had still seen something last week. “You’re here!”

“Of course I am.” Carefully, he sat down on the edge of the mattress to take his mother’s dry hand.

She didn’t belong in this place. Not in this room, not in this life that was becoming ever more constricted. She was supposed to have years left. Maybe decades. But her illness had caught up with her. It had started four years ago, with pain and blood in her vomit. Some doctor had pointed out that her body had fallen victim to a chronic infection. Suo had never understood much about it, but he had realised that it needed treatment.

It was probably at this point that everything had started to change a little.

And since then it had been an up and down of hope and fear. A few months of strength also meant repeated relapses. He had got used to it, or at least tried to get used to it. But lately, things were different. Her voice sounded weaker, and her eyes seemed blinder. Her body seemed more tired. He knew she was living on painkillers and struggling with severe hair loss, dry skin, burning eyes, and vision loss.

How could he not have known?

She was wasting away, and all he could do was watch. With secret prayers that she would get better, riddled with worry. She was a fighter, but how long could she keep all this up?

He squeezed her hand tighter. As if he could keep her here, in the present. He couldn’t think about tomorrow, not about the after. After all, her condition had improved. Until last week, at least. Maybe she had just been in one of those phases again that always disappeared at some point. Maybe he didn’t have to worry.

It was all just a “maybe”.

“It’s a nice day today,” his mum continued. “I hope you’re enjoying your time in Furin. School is important, Hayato.”

A sound of agreement escaped him. “I like being there.”

“And you’re nice to your classmates?”

“I am.”

“You help when you can?”

“Just like you told me.” A smile crept onto his lips. Not out of joy, but because it had to be. Because it was important to her.

A satisfied snort escaped her before a weak cough escaped. “That’s nice. School should be ... filled with joy, and if you’re happy at Furin, that’s all I need.”

Her fingers clutched his hand. She never gripped it tightly, just enough for Suo to feel it. Just enough to know she was still there.

“Have you been able to make friends? I know I ask that every week, but you say so little.”

A soundless laugh escaped his throat. He told her everything. He did it every week. Over and over again. And still she asked each time, as if she wanted to make sure that nothing had changed.

“Sakura-kun and Nire-kun, mum. They are my friends. But all of Furin is like a family.” He lowered his eyelid briefly. “I enjoy being a part of it.”

“You never tell me what your friends are like,” she whispered. A faint giggle followed, sounding more melancholic than she had perhaps intended. Suo accepted it, opened his eye again, and listened to her. “What do you like about those boys? What have they done to win your friendship?”

“They’re reliable.” It was impossible to find a genuine answer to his mother’s question.

He didn’t know himself. Sakura had somehow attracted him, and Nirei had grown on him. How it had come to this, why Haruka had this effect on him, he couldn’t explain. It was one of those unresolved questions that he had stopped bothering with at some point.

“At least as reliable as the nurse who looks after you,” Suo then added. He had to take the focus off the subject before his mother bit down on it.

“Ah... Suzume-chan. She doesn’t work here anymore.” His mother’s voice softened. Her shoulders slumped. “She quit at the beginning of the week and didn’t even say goodbye. She was so happy when things started to look up. I somehow thought we were friends. But then she was suddenly gone.”

Suo raised his eyebrows. It was rare for someone to leave this hospital, even though she had been working here for ten years. During the time he had visited and even before that, during all his mother’s appointments and follow-up examinations, the basic staff had always remained the same.

But today was different. A change that he hadn’t expected, and that turned his stomach. Not because it was strange. Sometimes, people decide to make a change after a long time. It was more that his mother had become attached to this woman. They had become close in all that time, almost best friends. To disappear without a word was cruel. Childish. Unfair.

“Hayato?” His mother pulled him back into the conversation. “Would you introduce me to your friends sometime? They could come here ... and then we could talk, and I could get to know them.”

A dry swallow burnt in his throat. The thought of bringing Sakura and Nirei to this place was almost unthinkable. They were friends, sure, but aside from that, they knew nothing about each other. There were boundaries they had never crossed, things they didn’t talk about, and truths they hid from each other. Only Haruka’s living situation was known to them. Apart from that, they danced on secrets.

“I’ll ask them,” he replied. The last thing he needed was his mother’s disappointment. Even if it would never happen, there was nothing wrong with a small, empty promise. Not if it gave her satisfaction until she asked again next week.

It was a silent game between them. A dance in circles. Almost like a match of Go, where neither could really win, but both were too proud to give up. And maybe that was where their connection was. The inability to let go; that they were similar in their stubbornness, in their fear, and in their way of holding on to small things.

“By the way, one of your teachers came to see me,” his mother continued. “He wanted to make sure all the necessary signatures were there.”

“Signatures? What for?” Nothing had been mentioned in class that had hinted at this. At least he couldn’t remember it. But his attention had often wandered off lately, anyway.

“It’s supposed to be a little secret.” She raised a trembling finger to her lips and smiled. It was a faint smirk, but mischievous enough to elicit a soft laugh from Suo. “But I can tell you that there will be a school trip. Mainly for the further education of the first-year students. Although not so soon. We just wanted to get everything sorted out first.”

Hayato tried to nod understandingly, but a school trip wasn’t usually part of Furin’s schedule. Either this school was trying to improve its reputation at least slightly, or they actually wanted to open the doors to a better life for the students, who were considered trash by most. Whatever it was, part of him couldn’t imagine leaving and letting his mother behind. It felt wrong, even though it wasn’t.

Hayato couldn’t imagine going.

Not when there was someone at home who was fading away with each passing day. Not when life had become so fragile that even one night away could be too much. What if she needed him? What if she called him and he wasn’t able to come?

When a cool, delicate hand suddenly touched his cheek, Hayato flinched slightly. He hadn’t expected it. Not this gesture, not this closeness that felt so strange and familiar at the same time.

“Hayato...” Her voice was weak and hoarse but full of affection. “Don’t worry about me. Your grandfather will be happy to take care of me while you see a little more ... of the world. You’re not a foolish boy, darling. Learning more will open all doors for you one day.” She cleared her throat with difficulty. “And when you come back, I hope you’ll bring some treats!”

“You shouldn’t eat so many sweets,” Suo scolded with a smile. Yet he would bring her everything he could find, because she deserved it and because she already had to make enough sacrifices. Because she had too often been satisfied with the little she was offered, and because he knew such trifles were the only thing he could give her.

“I’ll see what I can find,” he added, and the almost cheerful look on her face had something precious about it that he, as in so many moments, held close. For later. For afterwards. In case he needed it someday.

“I-I hope I’m not interrupting.” When another voice reached him, Suo turned his gaze to the entrance. A nurse with raven-black hair stood on the threshold, a clipboard pressed to her chest, unable to look at him.

While Hayato uttered a sound of consent, the stranger entered with quick steps. She tried to smile but could only manage a forced twitch of the corners of her mouth. She seemed out of place. Like a memorial announcing bad news. Presumably, his mother was doing worse than expected, and perhaps she didn’t know how to broach such topics. But her presence alone was enough to create an inner distance between them and prompt him to leave.

All that remained was a silent farewell.

In the hallway, Hayato folded his hands behind his back. His gaze swept over the sterile surroundings, but he saw nothing. He tried to push the unpleasant thoughts out of his mind. Something about this new nurse bothered him. It wasn’t her voice; it wasn’t her posture. It was what she stood for. For the progression of a condition he had suppressed for so long. The slow, inexorable fading of hope.

And the terrible possibility that time was running out.

The last thing he wanted to think about was losing the only bit of family he had left.

Without his mother, he would be alone.

And he didn’t know what he would do then.

》 THE MOCKINGBIRD 《

His fingers hesitantly wrapped around the handle of the door he had just unlocked. The nurse and his mother were still circling in his head, eliciting a heavy sigh and pressing an uncomfortable throbbing behind his forehead. Like an inner roar reminding him that there was no break – not for him.

There were too many things he had to worry about. Too many issues that he usually tackled one by one, because it was important not to fall into any traps. But on days like these, the holes in his life overwhelmed him. His living situation, his circumstances, his mother, Sakura – if he were on patrol with the others, none of that would be on his mind. There were clear rules and defined roles. He would focus on his task and only go over new plans and procedures once he was home.

Sundays were hard. They robbed him of his distractions and left him shaken.

Finally, he opened the sliding door and pushed his way inside the house. The warmth of the outside world stayed behind. Instead, the slightly cool environment of the wood hit him, and he exhaled.

Neatly, he positioned his shoes at the entrance before making his way into the living room. He took off his trench coat on the way and hung it over his arm. From now on, he would devote himself to his routine, pull himself together, and organise his thoughts.

At least he clung to this plan, to the shards and splinters that threatened to pierce him, until he saw a man sitting at his low living room table. Positioned cross-legged on a cushion, he took a deep drag from his black and gold kiseru pipe. The rising smoke danced slowly through the room. It was an old wooden model with the Chinese characters for “emperor” burnt into it.

“Grandfather...” The realisation hit him, overwhelming him, mocking him. “I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

Slowly, the old man’s grey gaze wandered in his direction. Then he smiled thinly and calculatedly. “I knew you would visit Baoling, so I used my spare key. I wanted to surprise you.” His voice remained calm, but there was also an undertone of ownership and control. “Unfortunately, despite all my invitations to Tokyo, I rarely get to see you.”

“I’m very busy at school,” Suo replied.

His grandfather was no ordinary old man. He wore his tailor-made light blue Lanshan with the naturalness of a king. The tobacco in his pipe was imported, his demeanour imbued with discipline and strategy. There was no room for sentimentality, no careless words. And certainly no moments of weakness. He had taught Suo the smile he put on when he needed to protect himself. The smile that lied without batting an eyelid.

“I thought so. You do these ... patrols here, don’t you?” His grandfather shook his head. “It’s pathetic that the police have withdrawn, allowing this place to continue to rot.” A brief sigh followed. But it wasn’t a sign of tiredness. It was scorn in a polite form. “You shouldn’t limit yourself too much to these useless games, Hayato. You know I’d prefer you to go to a private school where your intelligence is nurtured.” He paused briefly, then made his next statement with precision. “But I promised your mother I would respect your wishes, and since you will always have a place with me, I don’t care which school you end up graduating from.”

Suo was silent. His heart was beating too fast, tension sat in his neck like an invisible foe, and he knew that every word he said could be wrong. It was obvious that his grandfather had come to test him. To judge him. And perhaps to correct him. Because when he finished school, he would take over his grandfather’s empire – at least according to this old man sitting across from him, whom he would have loved to throw out. But he didn’t do it.

Because he couldn’t.

Because everything Suo owned – this house, the clothes on his body, the freedom to visit Furin – belonged to Haoran Chengxing. His maternal grandfather. A man who controlled his world, even when he was miles away. Nothing Hayato owned was his own. And his grandfather knew that very well.

“Now let me ask, how is Baoling?”

Another one of those empty questions that had no real value. Haoran only asked because it was part of proper conversation. So Hayato slowly sat down at the low table, directly opposite the old man. The smile he put on was narrow and controlled.

“She’s not doing well. But I’m sure she just had a hard day.” There was no point in lying. Haoran probably already knew how his daughter was doing. He knew everything. Always. At all times.

His grandfather nodded. “I sincerely hope for her health. No father wants to see his child go sooner than necessary.”

Most people would probably have agreed with him – unable to see the coldness in the old man’s grey eyes. Hayato’s hands clenched almost unnoticeably in his trousers. In his presence, he had to play his cards wisely. In those seconds, he couldn’t be a stupid little boy who let himself be provoked by his background knowledge. He couldn’t stand up, slam his hands on the table, and ask if anyone really cared about his mother. After all, she had already been banished from the family once. She had been thrown out onto the street like dirt because she hadn’t been valuable for the Chengxing family.

She and her four sisters.

Just like grandmother.

If he brought all that up, he would lose his freedom. The long leash he was currently using to plot his escape would disappear. It was a mistake he couldn’t risk making. That’s why the smile remained unchanged on his lips, offering him some protection as he relaxed and nodded gently.

“I’m optimistic. She’s beaten the disease every time so far. This time will be no different.”

“You’re probably right.” A dull sound reverberated through the room as Haoran tapped his pipe against the table. It was a casual sound, yet Hayato flinched inwardly. It felt like a judgement or a reminder of who was in charge here. “Well, I can’t stay much longer. I still have some business to attend to. I do hope, however, that you will take the time to visit me sometime. Don’t forget that it’s important to familiarise yourself with the future early on.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Suo replied curtly before bowing deeply. He had to appear like the perfect grandson. Like the boy who fit the image Haoran had created. Nothing else mattered. Neither pride nor anger. At that moment, he was nothing more than an actor who devoted himself to his role and delivered it convincingly.

When he looked up again, he noticed his grandfather’s smile. And it was different. One of the few genuine ones. With a sparkle in his cold eyes, almost like relief. Another problem Hayato would have to deal with at some point. Right after he had solved all the other hurdles.

Meanwhile, his grandfather got up, and Suo followed suit. The brief bow between them that ensued was purely superficial. It wasn’t respect that bound them together. There was only duty and power.

Then, Haoran took a step away from the table before moving towards the hallway. In his slightly unsteady form, with the expensive fabrics on his body, he hardly looked like someone who belonged in this place. Rather, he seemed like a foreign body whose influence extended further than Hayato could see.

At the door, Haoran paused once more to slip into his silk shoes, which he pulled out of the shoe cabinet within reach. “I expect great things from you, Hayato. When you grow up, the world will be at your feet. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to enjoy your school days, but don’t lose sight of the important things. It would be a shame to see you wither away in the hands of this city.”

“Of course, Grandfather.” The classic answer. A mantra Suo repeated every time. It was nothing special. Just another lie – like so many others that kept him afloat.

He even said goodbye to his grandfather with a smile, staring at him longer than necessary, just to keep up appearances. And when the old man turned around once more, Suo raised his hand and waved. The perfect grandson, right to the end.

Only then did Hayato take a deep breath. The corners of his mouth, which he had laboriously pulled up, fell back down, giving way to the bitter expression of a boy whose face barely had the strength to smile. He had probably exhausted himself for the day because the atmosphere and the effort of sitting at the table with his grandfather had worn him down. It was worse than everyday life, in which he could usually find at least some joy.

But he knew it wouldn’t always be like this. Furin wouldn’t be by his side forever, and when that time came, he would have to pull himself together and be ready to flee. Ready to find a way to free himself and his mother from his grandfather’s clutches. A little childish and probably not very mature, if he thought about the promise he had made to this old man years ago. But it was the only right thing to do. The only way to preserve his mother’s smile and create a future for himself.

And until then, he would practise self-control.

Just like now, as he massaged his tense shoulder with one hand and stretched his neck, hoping that the pressure would at least ease a little physically. Then he took a step back into the house that didn’t belong to him and closed the door.

All he could do was not think too far ahead. Two or three years – that was too much. Too uncertain. The present was hard enough. His current circumstances were more important, and while he couldn’t change his mother’s health, he still had Sakura and his encounter with Endo in front of him.

When Suo closed his eye, he remembered his friend’s contorted face. The ashen skin, the haunted look, the rapid breathing, as if he were gasping for air. He probably had to do that after the blow to the chest. A powerful flat hit to the sternum could be cruel. Endo had used it, and Sakura had felt it.

But there was more.

The scene played repeatedly in his mind’s eye. Because something wasn’t right. This reaction – jumping up, pushing Nirei’s hand away, frantically leaving the scene – none of it was the boy he knew. Not the boy who never backed down. Not the one who saw setbacks as an invitation to fight back.

Instead, there had been panic. Fear. Something inside him had reacted that Suo couldn’t grasp. And the more he thought about it, the stronger the unease became. Things had changed, and Hayato stood before them like a puzzle with the central piece missing.

The longer he looked, the clearer it became to him: he had no answer to what he had seen.

There was nothing he could do except observe and wait; and let Endo’s words circle around in his head like poison. Two cards against Furin – that’s what he had said. Two cards. And Hayato didn’t even know what they meant.

With a groan, Suo dragged himself into the spacious kitchen. He hardly ever used most of the things in this room. It was rare for him to cook – mostly because it wasn’t necessary thanks to the residents of Makochi – and only the small corner full of tea utensils felt like home.

He pulled a packet of loose green leaves out of the cupboard, put water up to boil, and leaned against the cool counter as if it could give him support. Sakura still wouldn’t leave his mind. He couldn’t just think about Endo or his threat. His senses dug deeper, making it more personal. This encounter had possibly shaken him too because it wasn’t just about power or control but about people. About someone who was more important to him than he wanted to admit.

He had too little information and too little influence. And the likelihood that Nirei and Tsubaki had long since reported to Umemiya was high. Anything else would have been nonsensical. All that remained for him was to wait, endure, and observe from the sidelines, always ready to intervene if necessary. If his friend threatened to stumble, he would catch him.

A silent laugh shook him.

In fact, he would probably go even further than that. He had already lashed out at Endo without thinking when he noticed that something in Sakura had collapsed. At that moment, when this helplessness had emerged, when his friend hadn’t been able to find his footing, his insides had burst into flames. This terrible desire to protect his friend, to intervene and resolve the situation, had gained the upper hand.

Yet he probably wouldn’t even stand a chance against someone like Yamato. Even with his way of fighting, it would have been difficult.

And yet he had been willing to fight this battle to keep Sakura safe. A foolish, reckless thought that he had indulged in without knowing why. No friendship in the world should have prompted him to put himself in hopeless situations. Back then, at KEEL, with Nirei, he had known that he would gain the upper hand if he attacked his opponent. It had been simple and terribly logical – driven by a kind of temperament he shouldn’t have given in to.

Even so, this situation had been only half as foolish as attacking someone he knew he wouldn’t escape from unharmed. He wasn’t a moron. But at that moment, it hadn’t mattered. Because it hadn't been about reason.

His shoulders slumped as he shook his head. Makochi did something to him. It changed him, twisted his priorities, and made it difficult to always choose the best path. Sakura only made it worse – made Hayato go too far when he shouldn’t.

Then again, he had seen the expression on Haruka’s face before. That consuming, all-devouring panic – he knew those frozen eyes that went with it, the beads of sweat on the forehead, and the trembling of shoulders.

Back then, almost nine years ago, he had been unable to do anything about that. He had been unable to do more than watch as someone he cared about had been hurt.

This time, he had to change that. And maybe that was why he acted without weighing the risks. Maybe that was why Sakura’s loneliness struck a chord in his heart.

Probably all of that was even the reason he liked this guy so much in the first place. As if he had some kind of hero complex for someone who didn’t need him at all.

Or maybe he thought too much about things that didn’t matter while trying to stay focused and not make any mistakes.

Chapter Text

»I like that boy. He amuses me.
He wishes for different rules while being unable to make different choices.«

– Endo Yamato
To Chika, even though he doesn't care.

His eyes burnt as he opened them. Part of him refused to slip back into this miserable reality, back into this life that sometimes didn’t really feel like his own. Fatigue hung deep in his nerves, eating away at his senses and reminding him of how he had failed to escape Endo and, with that, himself. The trembling in his bones was nothing more than the pitiful echo of all that. All he had left was the dull reflex to pull the blanket higher. A ridiculous act, because it offered no protection at all. In truth, it was just a scrap of fabric that he clung to like a child who had never learnt to grow up.

When he wrapped his arms around himself, he felt the unevenness of his body. The breasts that clung to him like parasites. This useless fat that disfigured his form and yet gave him a certain security. Perhaps because it reminded him of his mother. Back when she had still held him in her arms, when she and his father had foolishly believed that he could ever become someone to be proud of. Days when they had somehow been a family.

It was strange, considering that he wanted to hate this part just as much as the rest. After all, these feminine characteristics robbed him of the opportunity to be a man. A person with clear contours. The way it should be. Instead, he was a disgusting mess, a flawed something that was only created to live life on the sidelines.

And what corroded him even deeper was the fact that certain things would forever be denied to him. Not that he cared about having a family of his own – for God’s sake, he was fifteen – but the memory of his mother’s doctor’s words echoed loudly in the back of his mind today. Because he was sterile. Rotten. Worthless. He couldn’t create anything, couldn’t pass anything on, except this miserable existence that everyone he knew regarded with disgust.

Haruka didn’t know why he remembered this right now. Perhaps it was because of the ceiling, which was so plain and insignificant, reminiscent of the room where he had been examined to find out what defects he had suffered because of his disfigurement. How many words had been spoken back then? How many tears had his mother shed?

He couldn’t remember.

Or perhaps he didn’t want to anymore.

Instead, he felt a growing desire to see Endo never again. Or anyone else. He would rather rot away in this hole he called home than continue to writhe under the gaze of other people.

Gasping, Haruka buried his face in the pillow, as if he could disappear into it, and tried to clear his mind. It was pointless to think about all these things, even if he couldn’t turn off his mind. He had to pull his senses together and go through his morning routine. It was Monday. He had to go to school, fight his reluctance and pretend that everything was the same as before. As if nothing had happened. As if he weren’t the damn coward who had slammed the door in Nirei and Suo’s faces while collapsing under the weight of his own miserable world.

And now he needed an excuse for it. A simple lie that would roll off his tongue easily. Something that wouldn’t prompt Suo to ask questions. Because if anyone ever saw the whole truth, he might as well bury himself.

Sakura jerked the blanket off him as if to throw the weight of his own existence off his shoulders. Immediately afterwards, he scrambled to his feet. He fled from his thoughts, his existence, and the remnants of his dreams that he didn’t want to relive.

With shuffling steps, he forced his way into the bathroom. He stripped off his pyjamas like a second skin that threatened to suffocate him and stepped into the shower. The next moment, water that was far too hot poured down on him, but it was no comfort, no new beginning. It was just a moment in which he could forget everything.

When he closed his eyes, he didn’t have to look at himself. He could pretend that everything was fine, that the breasts weren’t there and that the cock between his labia wasn’t somehow ugly and a little crooked. For a tiny second, he could imagine he was normal, like the men in those magazines he had secretly glanced at in passing. Slim, muscular, fit. Not this patchwork of flaws.

But the mirror was waiting for him after his shower, as he dried off and realised that all his imaginings would remain nothing more than fantasy. So he forced his mind to carry on, dragged his body to the wardrobe, slipped into his underwear and reached for the chest binder. For a moment, he examined the cheap material that had failed to protect him from Endo. Buying better quality was a good idea, but he didn’t have the money. This thing in his hands was now a year old. A gift his father had given him. Not out of love, but out of a half-hearted hope that this wreck of a child might still turn into something useful.

Something that was socially acceptable and nothing to be ashamed of.

What a joke. What a goddamn pathetic joke. If his father had known beforehand how useless Sakura was, how he failed at everything, maybe he wouldn’t have hesitated to spend more money to have him forcibly cut up. Some doctors would have taken the bribe, for sure. Anything to mould him into the shape of a girl, because a second son had never been an option for his mother.

A girl.

Haruka bit his lower lip.

They could have made him a boy and could have taken the money to make him fit in despite everything. Without force. In that case, he would have agreed immediately, would not have refused and would not have spoken out against his family’s wishes. Instead, they had denied him this simple solution – out of spite. To make it clear to him that if they couldn’t have their way, he wouldn’t get his way either. Probably because his younger brother was already boy enough. And probably also because his mother had asked for a girl her whole life.

God, he hated that thought, hated that there could have been countless ways if his parents had been just a little less selfish. If they hadn’t labelled him a mistake from the outset. But they had seen him – two different eye colours, two different hair colours, this ruined body, the poor grades – and had decided he wasn’t worth the effort. After all, why invest in something that wouldn’t work anyway?

Haruka understood that. Everything had its consequences. His existence was a punishment for resisting his parent's plans. He was what remained when everything that could still be saved had been sorted out. And perhaps his only task was to endure this until he was old enough to pay for a change. Maybe one day he could buy a better illusion with his own money. Something uniform that would help him look at himself in the mirror.

Until then, all he had was this cursed piece of fabric that flattened his chest and reminded him of how pitifully little he was worth.

The only obstacle on this path seemed to be Endo. His “card” against him and Furin was probably nothing more than the disgusting truth: that he had felt what Haruka despised most. His chest. His body. The thing that betrayed him. If Yamato were to threaten him with it, he would knock him down so hard that he would never dare to even look at him again. At least he told himself that he had some chance against Yamato. A pathetic consolation, considering that he could probably send Sakura to the floor with a single blow. It was hard to imagine that someone like Endo could be easily defeated.

A sharp snort escaped him before he wrapped the stretchy material around his chest. It was the only thing holding his illusion together here and now. Yamato Endo had only words at his disposal, which, at best, no one would believe. That was the only certainty Haruka had.

So he pushed the thoughts aside and compelled his brain to think about school. About money. Having cash meant a better chest binder, maybe even a damn gas connection. Then he could afford meat sometimes, cook a hot meal – a hint of normality – instead of showing up at Kotoha’s with the ridiculously few yen they threw at him every month. Charity contributed by people who didn’t even treat him like a son but like a burden they could barely bear.

As he pulled on a white shirt, Haruka tried to come up with a halfway decent schedule. In order to do what was necessary without being seen, he would have to time his job with his patrols at Furin. In addition, he had to find a place where there wasn’t a lot of talk. The last thing he wanted was to let Furin’s students in on his private affairs. Especially Nirei and Suo. Giving them insight into his circumstances was out of the question. After all, they were nothing more than acquaintances. People he somehow liked but who wouldn’t remain in his life forever. So he had to construct his plan perfectly.

Mainly because of Suo. He was too smart, too observant. He would probe innocently with razor-sharp skill. Then he would realise that behind the facade there was only a construct of shame, lies and half-hearted excuses. The very thought of it made Haruka’s hair stand on end. Suo’s undivided attention was the last thing he needed.

Hastily, he threw on the rest of his clothes, putting on his school jacket like protective armour and burying his hands deep in its pockets. That way, he was on his own. Simple body language that made it clear to everyone around him he wasn’t looking for company or conversation.

Then he left his flat, shoulders squared and eyes fixed straight ahead. He had to take one step at a time to avoid getting tangled up.

It was simple.

Just like he always did when he started a new tightrope walk.

》 CHERRY BLOSSOM 《

When he slid open the door to the classroom, his classmates glanced in his direction only briefly. A few of them said, “Good morning”. The rest raised their hands briefly in greeting before returning to their conversations.

It would have been almost peaceful if he hadn’t heard the sudden “Sakura-san!”. Inwardly, Haruka flinched, but it was already too late. He didn’t even have time to prepare before the blond boy appeared in front of him and put his hands on his shoulders.

“Are you okay? You looked so down yesterday!”

Nirei’s round eyes stared at him like a little warning sign. As if they wanted to remind him that he couldn’t afford to make any mistakes if he wanted to get away with a lie. A single twitch and his entire plan would fall apart. And yet, it seemed impossible to look him in the face. There was something about Akihiko that conveyed a kind of trust that he didn’t want to betray.

So he looked away. “Everything’s fine.”

“Really?” And just as Haruka had feared, Suo appeared. “We were worried about you.”

He stood there with his arms behind his back, a narrow smile on his lips, as if nothing could trouble him. He probably knew that it was an idiosyncratic way to torture someone. At least Sakura felt as if he were being pierced with the naked eye. He had a feeling that Hayato’s eyes were picking him apart layer by layer.

He needed a solution. Now. Something that sounded plausible, that Suo could latch onto without digging too deep. And there was only one thing that made sense in Sakura’s head.

“That encounter with Endo... I can’t say I’m proud of it.” He really wasn’t. If he had been a little stronger, he would have knocked that guy down without failing so miserably. “He brought me to my knees with one blow. That shouldn’t have happened. Suo had to intervene, and ... I was pathetic.”

A truth that didn’t tell the complete story but captured a moment he didn’t have to embellish with lies. Endo had put him in his place like a little boy. No one in their right mind would have been proud of that.

Nirei’s grip on his shoulders tightened immediately. There was nothing but sympathy in his voice. “No one could have beaten Endo-san! It was very brave of you to even go after him. No one else could have done that.”

“Which would have been the smarter decision,” Suo added. His expression remained unchanged, but his eyes stared down at Haruka in a way that held more questions.

Haruka felt his muscles tense, as if his body was instinctively trying to protect itself from a punch that hadn’t yet been thrown. Suo didn’t believe that Sakura’s words were all there was to his story; that was obvious.

“After everything he said, I just couldn’t hold back.” Hastily, almost too determinedly, Haruka pushed Nirei’s hands off his shoulders. “I’m surprised no one went after him before.”

“I think everyone knew Endo-kun was no one we could beat.” A slight sigh escaped Suo. “Except our grade captain, of course.”

“He was asking for it.”

“I can’t deny that.” Suo tilted his head, and there was more threat in that than in a direct attack. “I just wonder what he meant when he said he now has another card up his sleeve against Furin.”

A kick in the stomach couldn’t have hit him harder. Haruka’s mouth immediately turned down at the corners. Part of him had been naive enough not to even consider that anyone else might have heard those words. But of course, Suo hadn’t missed that vile comment.

Gritting his teeth, Sakura let out a dismissive snort before shrugging his shoulders. “No clue.”

“Maybe he thinks he can separate Sakura-san from Furin,” Nirei interjected, and Haruka thanked him inwardly. Akihiko didn’t notice the tension, ignoring the silence that would have swallowed them all if it had been given the chance. “He said you don’t fit in here. I’m sure he’s planning something. But we’ll take care of it. Tsubaki-san and I have already informed Umemiya-san about it.”

Of course they had. Yamato Endo was a legend – pathetic, hated, but a legend nonetheless. It was precisely this thought that gnawed at Haruka’s nerves, as if he had to acknowledge that even scum could be what he would never be.

“Whatever. Next time, I’ll finish him off...”

Nirei immediately raised his hands, a helpless laugh on his lips. “Maybe we shouldn’t push it.”

“Probably not,” Suo agreed. But there was no peace in his voice, no real retreat. It sounded more like he was just lowering the knife for a moment so he could stab even deeper later. A truce, nothing more. Then he changed the subject. “By the way, we’re going on a school trip this year.”

“School trip?” Nirei’s attention immediately jumped to the topic. “Where to?”

“I don’t know,” Suo replied, with that unassuming smile that caused Haruka more unease than it should have. “But it’s probably meant to teach us more.”

It seemed as if the horror would never end. He could already picture the scene: a week locked up with his classmates, no escape, no secret that would remain hidden for long. A school trip wasn’t an outing, it was a cage surrounded by explosives that would go off at the slightest wrong move.

“How long is this school trip supposed to last?” He wanted to hope, didn’t want to cling to the worst, but Suo ruined the positive glimmer in the same breath.

“A week!” came the answer, with too much ease and goodwill to be genuine. Almost as if Suo wanted to observe his every reaction.

Saliva ran down Sakura’s throat, dry as dust. Nausea settled in his stomach, and before he knew it, he was sitting down at his desk. The only solution left to him was not to go. He could try to be sick that day. Better yet, if the trip wasn’t paid for by Furin but had to be covered by his parents, his chances of getting out of it were good.

“Sakura-san, you look pale... Are you sure everything is okay?” Nirei’s concern clung to him again, causing Haruka to let out a heavy sigh.

“Everything’s fine. But a school trip sounds like a headache.”

“It’ll be fun!”

Of course, Nirei believed that. In his world, there would be games, shared rooms, laughter late into the night, and maybe even a pillow fight. All of which wasn’t only foreign to Haruka but also threatening. Still, he let Nirei gush over how such a school trip would bring them together and how they could make friends with the other first-year students. A perfect way to become one big whole, as befitted Furin.

Suo didn’t respond. He replied to all this with a silent smile, clearly unconvinced and even less interested in it all than Haruka was. It was one of those moments when this boy was strangely easy to understand, considering how non-transparent Suo usually remained. It was reminiscent of his fight against the guy from Shishitoren, towards whom he hadn’t shown a single shred of friendliness.

Just as little as he was showing now, and yet it completely rolled off Nirei’s cheerful chatter.

In this way, Sakura was spared everything that could have worn him down for the moment: Suo’s questions, his own thoughts, and the worries that had been weighing on him since morning. Thanks to Nirei, he slipped almost unnoticed into a routine that carried him through the time before class. Until fellow students found their seats, the homeroom teacher entered, and suddenly everything seemed a little more normal.

The attendance list was checked. Notes were taken, and a few announcements were made. Not a word about a school trip. Just a little talk about a sports festival that was held every year and that they would soon be getting involved in. In between, Haruka felt relief. For a few minutes, the world seemed to fall into a quiet, steady hum.

Then his mobile phone vibrated.

He pulled it out almost automatically. Maybe there was a new message in the class group chat, or perhaps just a trivial comment that would help pass the time. But what stared back at him was an unknown number that had left him a message, which he opened only after some hesitation.

Unknown:
For your little problem.

Below it was a link. An endless string of characters and numbers that made no sense. Haruka stared at it as if it were a joke. Surely someone had passed on his number to tease him a bit. His fingers tapped the link, still half convinced it would be ridiculous.

It was no joke.

The page that opened showed chest binders. A pack of three. With reinforced layers, maximum support, and, according to reviews, invisibility under clothing. Fourteen thousand yen. Something he could never afford with the meagre money he was allowed each month. For a split second, he was tempted to imagine what it would be like to make a few cutbacks. Eat less, consume less...

He shook off the thought as his heart took a panicked leap. Everything he saw and thought in those seconds didn’t matter. His mind kicked in, reminding him that someone had sent him this link. Someone who knew his secret. An unknown number.

And immediately a name came to mind.

Endo.

In the blink of an eye, he felt his acid rise to his throat. His stomach cramped. His fingers clenched tighter around the mobile phone until his knuckles turned white. He couldn’t let himself be provoked. Not when he was sitting in a classroom with others and was supposed to be listening to the teacher.

Trembling, Sakura breathed in and out. Then he hold his breath for a moment, as if that would suppress the panic. Right after, his shaky thumbs dared to ask a very simple question. He had to find out what Endo wanted from him. And since this chat existed only between the two of them, a moment of unwanted togetherness, Haruka had all the time in the world to type his message. He could never keep up in the class chat. He was too inexperienced with technology for that. But for this, his skill was enough.

A quick press on “Send”, and all that held him back was the pitiful hope that he could still control this situation. His eyes darted around the room. Half the class was trying to follow the explanations on the board. The rest were engrossed in their own things. Some were scribbling on paper, others were glued to their mobile phones – just like Sakura. Except that they looked less desperate than he probably did. Only he was trapped in this feverish confinement, as if someone might get up at any moment and yell what he was trying to hide.

Suo, diagonally in front of him, seemed focused on the lesson. Nirei was taking notes. No one looked at him. And yet there was this feeling of being watched, as if his every move could be exposed.

In the next breath, his mobile phone vibrated again. Haruka’s shoulders shot up; his heart stumbled. With stiff fingers, he unlocked the screen.

Unknown:
What I want from you? Not much. You’re just very intriguing.
It’s rare to see someone like you, as you probably know yourself.
For a moment, I even thought you were a girl, but let’s be honest,
that would have been too easy, wouldn’t it? Besides ... your posture,
your voice, your physique – none of it matches what
I felt under your shirt.
The answer to the riddle was quite simple.

The words burnt into his brain, each one like a blow to the chest. His hand shook uncontrollably, so badly that he almost dropped the mobile phone. Endo didn’t even have to speak it out. He didn’t need time; he didn’t need to think long and hard. Within seconds, he had exposed Haruka in a way no one else ever had. This guy wasn’t nearly stupid enough to get hung up on questions that everyone else would have asked at some point. Many people had come to him at some point and asked what exactly Sakura was. And not once had he used the proper word for his condition.

When another message followed, Haruka felt the mere vibration rush through his entire body. It was like an inescapable signal warning him that running away was impossible.

Unknown:
I have also heard that you are a remarkable fighter.
The events surrounding KEEL didn’t escape my attention.
You should turn your back on Furin and join Noroshi.
Someone like you would fit in well with us and thrive in old Makochi.
If you want to be at the top, this is your path.

His stomach twisted as he read. The mere thought of leaving Furin to join something as vague as Noroshi elicited a contemptuous snort from him. Not loud enough to attract attention, but enough to give him some sense of power. He hadn’t found his place at this school yet, but giving up before he got what he wanted was out of the question. His goal was the top. And he wouldn’t be able to achieve that if he got involved with someone like Endo. Not when that someone was a legend whose title was more worthless than Sakura himself.

So he declined. Two simple words that he hammered into the chat as if there were a finality behind them. It was insane to believe that Endo would leave him alone if he turned his back on this guy. But it was all Sakura could hope for with his “not interested”.

A childish idea that didn’t last a second.

Unknown:
So we’re playing “hard to get”? Sweet.
How about you bring me two bottles of shochu, a bottle of yuzushu,
and some sake? I think you know where to get alcohol?
I’ve already put the money in your letterbox.
Pretty run-down hole they’ve put you up in, huh?

Haruka’s heart skipped a beat. He felt dizzy, as if the ground had been pulled out from under his feet. Endo knew where he lived. Endo had already been there. His hands turned ice cold as he stared at the screen.

Then a second message followed, with exactly the threat Sakura had feared. Yamato pushed him into a corner he didn’t want to be in, robbing him of any chance of escape.

Unknown:
Remember, I can reveal your secret to Umemiya at any time.
And we both know that he can’t just let a thing like that go
if there’s a chance it might be true.
AND we both know that I have no reason to lie.

He immediately turned off his mobile phone solely to avoid having to look at that damn chat any longer. Endo was right. If he told Umemiya the secret, it would all be over. Ume would ask questions, insist, tear apart everything Haruka had painstakingly built up. Out of ugly, destructive kindness.

Eventually, Sakura would stumble in the process – and Endo would have won.

Panic churned in his chest, but beneath it, another thought germinated. A dangerous, irrational defiance. If he did what Endo demanded, if he complied, he would get closer to him. Close enough to strike back and remind him that last time had been nothing but a lucky hit.

Maybe it was delusional. Maybe it was self-deception. But in this suffocating atmosphere of threats, it was the only thing that allowed him to breathe.

》 CHERRY BLOSSOM 《

Countless eyes were on him. Boys who were all getting ready for the next patrol through Makochi, just waiting for him to give them a few instructions. And just like every day, he sent the groups in the same directions.

He had little interest in the summaries of the previous day. All he wanted was for them to disappear, to finally have the breathing space he needed. As the groups dispersed, only Suo and Nirei remained, two shadows that had moved closer to him than he would ever have allowed before. Two guys he couldn’t shake off. Since day one, they had somehow been part of his whole here. A component he had to use.

Sighing, he put a hand to the back of his head, looked at the ground, then shook his head and stared at the other two. He couldn’t hesitate. “You’ll have to do the patrol alone today.”

“A-Alone?” Akihiko’s neck hairs stood on end like a cat’s. He wasn’t ready to tackle these tasks with confidence yet. But he would grow with them. “Why?”

“I’d like to know that too,” Suo interjected dryly. No mask of friendly indifference this time, just a hint of feigned surprise that attempted to make him seem more human. Something about Hayato thrived on absolute control – over himself and his situations.

But Sakura couldn’t give him this power. “I have other things to do.”

“We can come with you and help, then it’ll be quicker,” Nirei suggested. “Then we can stay together.”

“That’s not possible,” Haruka refused. “It’s a private matter.”

“One that will take all day?” Suo’s gaze pierced him, fixed and unmoving, as if he were expecting an explanation that Sakura couldn’t put into words.

Haruka felt the back of his neck grow damp. He couldn’t run away from his duties all day. A private matter that would keep him completely away would only serve as fuel for Suo; he knew that. Every excuse he gave was an open shot for him. One more wrong word and Hayato would smell it. He couldn’t waver. He couldn’t show that he was already stumbling.

“No,” he finally replied. “Just a few hours. I have to deal with ... problems concerning my family.”

In a single blink, Suo’s attitude changed. Sakura believed he saw understanding in his eye, and his insistent behaviour subsided. Nirei gave in immediately as well. The word “family” was a weapon that no one could easily dismantle – because they all knew that hardly any of them had a home worthy of the name. On top of that, he couldn’t even claim that he was lying. Bofurin did everything it could to function as a whole. Like a home you could always return to. Just like family. A bunch of people that Haruka somehow wanted to keep away from himself and his problem named Endo. So he could call it a family matter, even if it sounded ridiculous.

“See you later.” Still, he raised his hand as if they were really friends and not just a concept that existed temporarily. He did it as if it were normal. Ordinary. Everything he actually wanted.

Then Sakura turned away and ran off. If he didn’t want to be missing for the entire patrol, he had to hurry. He didn’t have enough time to save his own skin and avoid arousing further suspicion. Every step was somehow too slow. Every second somehow too short.

How much he hated that “somehow”.

He rushed home as fast as he could, where, completely out of breath, he took a break and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Meanwhile, it was getting a little warmer every day. It wouldn’t be long before summer made their daily lives a little more difficult.

With his breathing calmer, he dragged his feet over to the letterbox, which usually only contained advertising and newspapers. But today there was money behind the little door, for which he didn’t even need a key. It was never locked. It was a risky hiding place, yet Endo probably hadn’t even hesitated.

Reluctantly, he picked up the notes. Enough to buy even more alcohol than he had been instructed to. Drinks that no one in their right mind would sell him, but which he had to purchase anyway.

Again, Haruka set off. This time he headed for Shishitoren’s area. He would find everything he needed in the restaurant district.

But the journey seemed endless, and it felt like an eternity before he stood in a liquor store and made his way to the counter. The man behind the register looked him over intently before raising his eyebrows as if expecting an explanation. So Sakura announced the items Endo had requested.

“This is a joke, right? Can you show me your ID?” A dull laugh escaped from the stranger’s throat. “I don’t sell alcohol to children. You shouldn’t even be getting involved with this stuff, if you ask me.”

Of course, he didn’t sell that stuff to someone like Sakura. He was far too young to even think about such things. And yet here he was, standing in this damn shop, demanding it.

If Endo wanted alcohol, there had to be a reason he could get his hands on it. After all, he wasn’t old enough to be sold such things under normal circumstances either.

“It’s ... an order from ... Endo Yamato.” It was the only sentence in his head that fit this scenario. Similar to a little boy getting stuff for his father. The only way to avoid having to threaten the vendor.

And his words had the desired effect, as the old man behind the cash register turned as pale as a ghost, widened his eyes and uttered a brief, “Oh”.

No questions, no further amusement. The salesman bagged each bottle so mechanically, as if he wanted to get the situation over with quickly. Money changed possession, and before Haruka knew it, he was standing there with the bag, unable to lift his gaze. What remained was some well-intentioned advice. “Boy ... you shouldn’t get involved with someone like Yamato. It won’t end well.”

“I know,” Haruka managed, his hands clenched into fists. But the words tasted bitter. “I don’t plan on staying.”

With that, he pushed his way back onto the open street. The weight on his shoulders threatened to drag him to the ground. Powerlessness gnawed at his chest, burnt like it had once before – back when his father had sent him away. A note, a decision, no questions asked. Back then, he hadn’t been able to do anything. And now it was the same. It was another situation in which he was helpless, hoping that something good would happen.

Hunching his shoulders, he gripped the bag of alcohol a little tighter before pulling out his mobile phone and reopening the chat with Endo. In the meantime, this guy had sent him an address, as if he already knew where Sakura was and what he was waiting for. He wouldn’t have been surprised if this asshole was waiting for him somewhere in the shadows, watching his every move.

He had no clue where to find the address he had been given, and even though Haruka tried to find a route planner online, he still wandered around the area for far too long. He got lost between street names and avoided eye contact, as if it were written on his forehead who he served. Ten minutes by bus later, he finally stood in front of the building. When Sakura looked around, the flats and houses in this neighbourhood seemed nicer than all those that usually surrounded him. Everything looked a little less run-down, more charming, and much tidier than what he was used to.

Or perhaps he was just imagining all this because he was alone. Neither Nirei nor Suo was within reach. No one to put a hand on his shoulder or hold him back. No one who cared about him. All he had left was the path ahead – to a building that rose a little higher and forced him to climb a few steps to the third floor. One of the two doors there had a sign that read “Chika/Endo”.

His stomach knotted. He swallowed, took a deep breath, and gathered himself.

And then he rang the bell.

A few moments later, the barrier swung open to reveal Yamato. A black, tight-fitting shirt emphasised his upper body, and a mocking smile that knew no warmth greeted Haruka with a matter-of-factness that sent a chill down his spine. “I thought you’d got lost.”

Without further ado, he stepped aside. A wordless invitation that Sakura would have loved to shatter. Every muscle in his self screamed at him to stay outside, to refuse to cross that threshold. But his legs failed to obey him. They moved as if by remote control, as if an invisible hand was pulling him inside – into a spacious flat with neat furniture and enough room to invite ten more people. Endo probably had a way of making money that supported all this. Or “Chika” paid for it.

Both seemed hard to imagine, and as Haruka placed the purchases on a low living room table, everything in him longed to retreat. He had to get back to the others to be part of the patrol. But when he turned around, Endo was standing behind him, his thumbs hooked into his trouser pockets. “Chika isn’t home. Too bad, really. A brief fight between the two of you would have entertained me. Even if the outcome would have been predictable.”

“Hah?” Sakura frowned and took a step to the side. “You got what you wanted. I’ve got other things to do.”

He tried to sound cool. Rejecting. But his voice betrayed him, trembling almost imperceptibly, breaking on one syllable. He didn’t like the sound of it. He hated how weak he sounded, how his body revealed the unease he didn’t want to show. He hated that he was standing here at that moment because he had to. Because he had been subtly threatened, and because everything in him wanted nothing more than to punch Endo.

“You want to leave already?” Yamato remained undeterred. “You just got here.” He moved closer. “And there’s a lot I want to find out about you.”

“Not interested.” Haruka backed away automatically, as if his body already knew it had to stay away from this guy.

The room grew smaller and smaller until finally the cold pressure of the wall stopped him. Sweat ran down his temple, even though it wasn’t warm. His fingers clawed at the seam of his trousers, as if he had to hold on to something. Meanwhile, Endo came closer, pushing Sakura further into this invisible cage from which there was no escape.

He wanted to push Yamato away, punch him in the face, do anything to break out of this stifling confinement. A lump burnt in his throat. No protest came out. Only a single reflex remained. Violence was all that could save him. And even that he hated, because he knew it was exactly what Endo wanted.

In a flash, Haruka’s fist shot upwards in a clean hook that would surely have knocked Endo out. But he didn’t even step back. He let the movement pass him by almost playfully, blocking the arm with his shoulder, absolutely effortlessly. In the same breath, Yamato grabbed the hem of Sakura’s shirt. Without hesitation, he pulled the fabric upwards, revealing his abs and the chest binder that shaped them.

“Thought so.” Endo’s voice was quiet, almost satisfied, like someone who had solved a puzzle. He leaned closer, his navy blue hair falling into his face, and Haruka froze inside. “That thing looks cheap.” A grin followed. “And you think you can hide with that? With breasts that probably fit into pretty, medium-sized underwear?”

All Sakura could do was hold his breath. Every word pinned him down. Medium size. Underwear. Terms that felt like rusty hooks cutting into his flesh. He didn’t even really understand what Endo was talking about, but he understood enough to feel the ground giving way beneath him.

“I could get you a job,” Endo continued, his voice now almost patronising, “that pays you well enough to at least afford a decent binder. One that doesn’t immediately give away what you are. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Immediately, Sakura slammed his flat hands against Endo’s chest to push him away. He actually stumbled back two steps, hands raised and a laugh on his lips.

“Not interested,” Haruka repeated, brows drawn together and teeth clenched. “I’ll knock you out first.”

“You really are entertaining,” Yamato replied, almost affectionately. “But we both know you can’t beat me.” His gaze wandered down to Haruka, cold and analytical. “Or that you could really refuse the cash. As run-down as you live, your parents probably give you just enough money to keep you from starving. Your mobile phone seems to be the only thing about you that’s new. Surely a gift, huh? So you’d finally stop getting on their nerves. So you could find some friends ... assuming anyone wants to be friends with you.”

The words hung in the air, heavy, final. And Haruka felt them sink into him. Word by word, cut by cut. He heard his parents. He heard the voice that had sent him away. Make your own life. Use the mobile phone. Find friends. Don’t bother us anymore.

Everything inside him tightened. His fingers trembled as he hastily pulled the shirt back down, as if he could make the binder, the shame, the pain disappear. But it was too late. Endo had seen him. And he hated that assholw for it. And his parents. But at that moment, he hated himself most of all. For keeping quiet. For not being able to defend his position. For being pushed into this role again and again.

Endo watched him, and Haruka knew he saw exactly that – that spark of self-hatred that he just couldn’t swallow.

But instead of breaking the silence with a joke, Yamato slowly put his hands on his hips. For a single breath, he stared down at Sakura, not hostile, but with a strange kind of desire, as if he had to pin him down on the spot. Only then did he saunter back a few steps and plop down on his sofa.

“You remember KEEL, don’t you?” With his arms casually resting on the back of the sofa, Endo crossed his legs. “That ridiculous little bunch who pretended they could cause a stir with their petty criminal antics.”

Sakura clenched his hands into fists, just to reassure himself that he still had control over something. His knuckles cracked as he wrinkled his nose. “What about them?”

“After you finished them off, they moved on,” Endo explained. “They know they can’t get anywhere the way they were. And because freedom costs money, they ventured into the ‘big world’ for the first time last week.” He leaned forward slightly. “They stole a tobacco delivery from a truck.”

Haruka’s eyes widened. Part of him could hardly imagine how anyone could stop a truck to steal its delivery. It sounded insane, but not impossible. Especially in a neighbourhood that the police had long since given up on. And the longer he thought about it, the clearer it became to him that it was probably frighteningly easy if you were desperate enough.

“As you can imagine, they’re now selling the tobacco on the black market. They’re stuffing their pockets and financing their next little games with it,” Endo continued, unfazed. “They’ve even got their useless fingers on some drugs.”

Sakura immediately shrugged his shoulders. All Endo threw at him were activities he wanted to stay away from. Even in his position, somehow at the end of everything, he understood that none of these things were worth a second glance. Anyone who lost themselves in drugs had given up control of their life. And if he were to go down one day, he wanted to do so with all his senses and not in a daze, with the deceptive question of whether everything could have turned out differently if he hadn’t become addicted. He couldn’t imagine being at that point, reeling in a frenzy, unable to say when he had stopped being human.

“If you think I’m going to help you transport anything—”

“Don’t give me that bullshit.” Endo waved him off with an annoyed tone, visibly offended that Sakura would even put him in that category. He rolled his eyes, looking at least as disgusted by the idea as Haruka. His arms slid off the backrest as he leaned forward and braced his them on his legs. “I think as little of that filth as the losers from Bofurin. Drugs are for cowards. Anyone who clings to them is dead before they even fight.” He laughed softly; a toneless, brief sound that was more like a cough. “And stealing tobacco from a truck? Pathetic. Anyone who needs to do that has no clue how to use their fists or their words. KEEL...,” he let the name hang in the air for a moment before passing judgement, “is a sad caricature of human overestimation. Idiots who think they understand the world without really doing so.”

“You want to put a stop to them?” His own voice faltered, and his question sounded at least as stupid as it felt on his tongue. He couldn’t imagine someone like Endo, who was so obviously opposed to Bofurin’s principles, intervening in such a matter.

And indeed, Endo waved him off. “No, thank you. As you may have noticed, Noroshi longs for the glory of the old days. When chaos and violence were real. When it was fists that decided, not knives or pills.” A grin crept across his face. “Completely sober. Absolutely clear. Pure strength. Pure will. And believe me, someday you’ll understand what we’re looking for. And why we’re different from this pathetic scum.”

“I won’t join you,” Sakura snapped at him, his voice more bark than speech. “Before that, I’ll show you—”

“Who’s in charge here?” Yamato interrupted him. “Like just now, when you desperately pulled your shirt back down so no one could see what was underneath?” A mocking chuckle escaped his throat. “You may have bite ... but you’re no match. Not for me. And certainly not for what’s waiting out there.” A shadow passed over his face, his brows drawn together, his gaze like a knife. “You should know your place, kid.”

Sakura gritted his teeth and took a step forward – defiant and challenging. But he hesitated at the second step. Something about Endo, his unwavering posture, and his self-assured presence made his throat constrict. His body shivered, his senses stalled, and no clear thoughts formed in his head. All that remained was the burning in his chest. Anger that found no outlet.

“What I want,” Yamato’s voice broke the silence, “is for you to take care of the little problem with KEEL.” His green eyes fixed on him coldly. “Fifty thousand yen if you and two others set KEEL’s warehouse on fire after they’ve made their next raid.”

His heart raced. The suggestion was so absurd, so wrong, that his mind immediately protested. It was a “no” that went deeper than any other. Setting KEEL on fire meant crossing the line he had sworn never to even touch. Furin. The patrols. Suo. Nirei. Everything that had somehow grown dearer to his heart with each passing day would crumble to dust. In those seconds, it was important to cling to what little dignity he still had.

“No, I’ve already said that I’m not interested in your plans.” This time, he straightened his back, squared his shoulders, and looked down at Endo as if he actually had the power to fight back. “Working with someone like you would be the last thing I would consider.”

“Even if I tell everyone about your little secret?” Yamato tapped his chest casually, as if it were just a game.

“Even then!” Sakura yelled back. He wouldn’t let himself be intimidated. Not as long as he still had enough sense not to get dragged into some stupid situation he couldn’t control.

And to his surprise, Yamato didn’t laugh. Instead, he clapped his hands as if he had seen an especially amusing performance. “You’re cute. Really. You cling so much to being the good boy. Bofurin has really softened you up.” He stood up cheerfully. “I understand that. Strays who find a home suddenly believe they have a place in the world. But do you know what really happens?” He moved closer, step by step, until his hand rested heavily on Sakura’s shoulder. He leaned forward, his smile dangerously close to his ear. “They lose their bite. They become tame. Weak. And eventually ... it only takes a little push to remind them where they really stand.”

Sakura noticed the threat behind Endo’s words too late. Suddenly, he felt an iron grip on his chest. A hard tug that painfully pulled him forward. Reflexively, his body tensed, ready to strike, but before he could act, Yamato’s forearm crashed across his collarbone. The impact was so powerful that the air was knocked out of him in one blow. A stifled gasp, a half-swallowed sound, was all he could manage.

Immediately afterwards, he heard the tearing of fabric. A jolt, then a dull snap, and the familiar tightness around his chest disappeared. The piece of support that held him together was gone. Instead, there was too much freedom, which didn’t seem right. When Endo pushed him backwards, he stumbled helplessly against the wall, and as he desperately tried to keep his balance, he saw the torn piece of fabric lying like a trophy in his opponent’s hand.

“Oh...” Almost distressed, his opponent stared at the binder, then let the fabric slip through his fingers. “Looks like something ripped.” A crooked smile twitched across his lips. “You’ll have to find the money to buy a new one.”

His attention fixed on the only thing that had given him security, Haruka dared to look up at Endo. Heat bubbled inside him. Nothing remained of the uncertainty that had restrained him before. Everything in him craved a little justice. Violence that would bring him relief.

But his body didn’t obey. Every movement reminded him that his chest was unprotected, that the fabric of his shirt rubbed against it like sandpaper. Every breath was wrong. The only thing Sakura could manage was a faint “Why?”. He already knew the answer. Endo had given it to him. That asshole wanted to see him suffer, wanted to snatch away his halfway secure place with Furin and bring him closer to loneliness again.

“Why?” Endo’s voice echoed back to Haruka, deafeningly loud. “Because it’s the best way to feel powerful. When you’re at the top, no one cares what you look like or what you have to hide.” He stepped closer, waving the torn piece of fabric like a piece of evidence. “With Noroshi, you’d be free. Or are you seriously telling me you’re a fan of hiding for the rest of your life?” He raised an eyebrow. “Do you like hide-and-seek that much?”

Sakura wanted to shake his head, wanted to scream “No”, but nothing came out. His mouth opened, but no sound emerged. Everything blurred. The voice, the words, the steady pounding in his chest. His fingers clenched together, useless, quivering. Panic rose like a thick, suffocating veil that strangled him. He saw Nirei in front of him, Suo, Furin’s gentle laughter, and the bit of warmth that sometimes made him believe he wasn’t completely out of place. He didn’t want to lose any of that. But how long could he hold on to it when Endo was tearing him apart piece by piece?

The wall behind him grew harder, as if it had conspired against him. And Yamato was getting closer with every second, with every word, until Haruka felt the urge to run away. The burning anger had vanished as quickly as it had arisen. Here he was trapped, locked in, almost abandoned.

Before Haruka could gather a suitable response for Endo, he felt a sudden grip on his wrist. The grin on Yamato’s lips was too broad, too easy, as if it could nip any resistance in the bud. In the next blink, Sakura stood on the doorstep, outside the flat where, just a few minutes ago, he had been offered the most repulsive deal he had received in a long time.

“Wha—“ A stifled sound escaped his throat, but Yamato’s stance in the doorway robbed him of his speech. His body seemed like a barrier that made any return impossible.

His mouth still open in disbelief, Haruka heard Endo’s cheerful laughter. It got under his skin, burnt itself into his mind.

“If you change your mind, you know where to find me. Or you can message me.” He winked casually, as if they could understand each other without words.

But Sakura didn’t understand a thing.

He could only watch as Endo slammed the door in his face. And presumably, this helplessness that sent cold sweat running down his neck was exactly what Nirei and Suo had felt when he had simply left them standing that one evening. Still, Sakura tried not to lose his mind. He had to think, had to be clever. So he pulled his open Furin jacket close over his chest and took a deep breath.

The binder was gone. Missing. Still in Endo’s possession; as a reminder, perhaps also as a weapon. Now he needed a replacement. A sarashi, cheap to buy anywhere, would solve his problem. A simple, wide strip of cotton, tightly wrapped, uncomfortable but functional. It wasn’t for nothing that they were still popular, still in use, even if they were increasingly losing out to the comfort of more modern binders. But Sakura didn’t need great comfort. He would manage with a sarashi; he had to manage with it. Who cared that he had only ever owned one binder? Now it was gone, and he would never get it back. Period.

He bit his lower lip, tasting the iron of blood as he descended the stairs. Each step sounded dull, as if he were dragging not only his body but also his thoughts behind him. He didn’t want to think about Endo, didn’t want to give him any space in his head. And yet it gnawed at him. The money he had mentioned, which was ridiculously little but had its uses. It was tempting, even, when he thought about his situation. About the emptiness in his pockets. About the uncertainty of whether anyone would hire him at all, whether he would find a suitable part-time job in the evenings or at night.

It was pathetic that he was even considering it. But he did.

No matter how he looked at his circumstances, they didn’t become any less oppressive with every breath he took. Yet he made the decision to shake off Endo’s words. He had to follow the simple plan he had laid out. Nothing more. Get a sarashi. Go home. Bind the chest. Join Suo and Nirei on patrol, pretending everything's okay. Don’t stand out. Don’t stumble. Everything would be fine as long as he stuck to it.

And even though he knew deep down that it was a lie, at that moment he had to believe it.

Chapter Text

»Most people have no choices, even if they believe otherwise.
They just like to hold on to the thought until they have to give up.«

– Kotoha Tachibana
Between tea and breakfast to herself.

He held his breath. His fingers clutched the blanket so tightly that his knuckles stood out white, while his gaze remained fixed on the wood above him. The room no longer felt like a room. It had become tighter, heavier. Never before had he felt so clearly how a place could turn into a coffin. A box in which he himself was trapped, motionless and suffocated by thoughts. If he waited long enough, the air would dry up. Eventually. Maybe it was already happening.

Or maybe he was already dead, and he just hadn’t realised it yet. After all, life couldn’t be so confusing, so hostile. Not when he had clung so desperately to the idea that Makochi could be different from his home. Different from the rest, even different from this world he had come to know so far.

But the truth was merciless.

It always was.

No matter how much he asked around, how hard he tried to find a place, no one had a job for him. The answers were always the same. Always the same friendly phrases that robbed him of an opportunity.

“Enjoy your youthful life, you’re only fifteen.”

“The patrols are enough. You don’t have to do any more for us!”

Words that were meant to seem like a gentle gesture but were actually a slap in the face because what they called “protection” tied him to an option that he didn’t want to recall. Giving in probably also meant losing. Against Endo. Against that asshole of all people.

And if he was honest, it was pathetic. Carrying a few boxes in the dark just to get his hands on some change shouldn’t be a big deal. Yet he was denied the opportunity. Out of good reasons and also out of stupid kindness. Everyone somehow thought they were doing him a favour by saying, “Don’t bother.” As if everyone wanted to wrap him up in cotton wool, like he was a child. Only because he should be freer at his age and also because he was basically too young to work at night.

On top of that, it didn’t help that he couldn’t knock on the door of known places. For example, at the Roppo-Ichiza, which could certainly have used him for something. He would have been given a task there, some kind of job that would have made him feel he was more than just a superfluous shadow. But every step in that direction would have meant giving himself away, to allow them to watch him. Tsubakino would have learnt about it, and then – questions, endless questions. They would ask him to tell more lies, which he had told enough of recently. His tongue had long been heavy from all the excuses, and yet they never seemed to diminish.

Sighing, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Two weeks. Two weeks full of attempts, full of setbacks. Two weeks in which he clutched at one branch after another like a drowning man – and each one broke in his hands. All just so he could buy a new chest binder. A small thing. And yet an unconquerable mountain.

Every day on patrol with Suo and Nirei made it worse. He forced himself to endure their closeness, while the desire to be alone grew within him. To be free of their stares, free of their questions, free of this suffocating feeling that he was messing up the tightrope act.

He even avoided Pothos. Once a foothold, this café was now just another hurdle where he had to hold his breath to avoid suffocating. Every time he made an excuse there among the others in his class, he believed his own words a little less. But nobody doubted. Nobody asked questions.

He had everything under control.

Haruka’s fingers clutched the blanket even tighter. Then he opened his eyes, half hoping that something was different. But the wood above him was still familiar, and nothing had changed in his posture. He was still lying on his futon, stretched out and unwilling to get up for school. But he couldn’t stay lying down, couldn’t wait for anything to get better. He had to get up and push himself. As always.

With a movement that took more strength than it should, he pushed the blanket aside. Running both hands through his tangled hair, he tried to shake himself awake, but one thought remained. It clung to him like a curse: money.

He had calculated the costs again and again. He had tried to adjust things, save money, and cut things out. Eat less, need less, be less. But even if he reduced himself to the absolute minimum, even if he made hunger a constant companion, even if he made himself dependent on the kindness of Makochi, it would take months. Months to afford something that others took for granted.

A piece of cloth. Nothing more. And yet unattainable.

It was cruel. A normal boy wouldn’t have had to think about it. But he wasn’t normal. Not in this world. Not in this skin. Everything in his everyday life seemed to remind him of that. Every damn day. Little side blows that added up.

All he had left was the slightly out-of-sync routine, which he gradually got used to because it hardly differed from his actual habits. Step by step, mechanically, without deviation. Washing, fixing his hair, brushing his teeth. Then tie up the sarashi. The unfamiliar part, which he was bad with because he sometimes pulled it too tight and the fabric cut into his skin. But that was a minor matter, just a slight annoyance. Nothing he wanted to look at more closely. Instead, the habit continued with his clothes and the Furin jacket and the bit of self-worth he controlled because he knew he didn’t need Endo.

He would find a solution. He always did. Somehow.

And indeed, it seemed as if he could believe that thought as he left the house. The streets of Makochi welcomed him as usual. People greeted him, he nodded back. Routine. He took in the displays, letting his eyes glide over the goods without the urge to stop. Perceiving, not thinking. No questions, no nooses around his neck.

He maintained the bleak emptiness in his head all the way to Furin until his legs dragged him up the stairs to the classroom in echoing steps. This time he didn’t wait until he had composed himself to open the sliding door. He yanked it open, stepped inside, greeted his mates and let half of them overwhelm him with stories that were uninteresting but still brought a certain peace.

Hayato and Nirei joined them, “rescuing” him from the morning chaos and allowing him to retreat to his seat. Sugishita grumbled something half-asleep at the front, and Kiryu chuckled at it before turning to Sakura. “Are any of you actually going to bother with the achievement test?”

Haruka immediately denied. The tests weren’t for him. They were always not for him. He had never liked the method of determining the best in the country. What’s more, he hadn’t come to Furin to measure his intelligence.

Nirei, however, appeared like an exuberant ray of sunshine. “Absolutely!”

Suo slid in, a silent smile on his lips. He probably had no interest in measuring himself against others either. The only one who saw anything in it seemed to be Akihiko. The gleam in his eyes and the confident smirk on his lips almost reminded Haruka of the first day they had met. Back then, when he had stumbled into Pothos in his overly cool clothes.

“Really?” Kiryu raised his eyebrow in disbelief. “I’ve heard that our teachers would be happy if someone did passably well.”

“I’ve done plenty of preparation!” Instantly, Nirei pulled out his notebook. “I’ve noted everything you need to know.”

“You do realise that you have to apply the formulas in maths without your notebook, don’t you, Nire-kun?” Suo tilted his head, half-amused at Nirei’s pale face, on which beads of sweat were slowly forming.

“N-naturally.” His gaze travelled slowly to Hayato. “P-prepared, as I said.”

Akihiko’s dream would probably be shattered at the latest when the first test was put in front of him, and that was probably simply because they belonged to Furin. At least they could all take it with a smile. If they got through, that was good enough.

But Kiryu wasn’t satisfied with that. His desire to communicate seemed higher than usual, and though he remained casual with all his words, Haruka thought he noticed his classmate half-turning to him. “Heard about the upcoming school trip yet?”

The word struck him to the core. School trip. Not that topic again.

Haruka forced himself not to react. He kept his head down, trying to look indifferent, but his breath caught in his throat. He should have waved it off and said something flat in reply. But before he could react, Nirei jumped in enthusiastically at his words while Mitsuki grinned and Suo listened in silence. And Haruka stayed behind – frozen.

“Suo-san mentioned it!”

Mitsuki nodded. “Heard the teachers whispering about it in the corridors. They seem to have made some plans that affect us all – sparked by a few students who probably caught their attention the most.”

Sakura immediately clenched his hands into fists. If Kiryu said it like that, then it was probably because Haruka had caught the teachers’ attention. But in what way?

Suddenly there was sweat on his skin, sticky and oppressive. Every muscle tensed. His chest felt tighter, breathing got harder. Every breath was hard work. Part of him felt like he was drying out inside. No one had realised what he was hiding, had they?

Usually the teachers at this school didn’t really care what they were hiding because they knew Furin worked differently. They knew the students looked out for each other and that most of them would rather talk to each other than turn to an adult who would disappoint them in the worst case. After all, they had to abide by the rules. They couldn’t just go out there and fight with others. Their life differed from the one the students lived.

“I can’t wait to see what that will be!” Nirei shouted cheerfully, and for a moment the voice pulled him back.

But only for a brief instant.

Then the panic broke out again. Maybe it wasn’t a rumour at all. Maybe it was a done deal. Maybe the teachers would announce it today. Maybe it would be tomorrow.

And what about him? He couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

Clenching his teeth, he forced himself to breathe calmly. Not too much, not too obvious. He had to pull himself together, think differently, think better.

Maybe it was just a rumour. Maybe the teachers were planning something completely different. Maybe there was nothing to worry about at all. He told himself, sentence by sentence, until it almost made sense. It gave him enough certainty to quell his anxiety.

The very next moment, the sliding door to the classroom opened and the first teacher of the day entered the room. With his clipboard under his arm, he pushed his way to the desk, slammed it down on the wood and waited until everyone had taken their seats.

With that, Sakura finally got rid of Kiryu. The tension fell from his body, from his perception, and allowed his mind to once again suppress the back shelves of his thoughts. In these seconds, he didn’t want to have to worry about anything. Moments in which he imagined he was free, in which he told himself that this day would be like all the others – bearable, almost pleasant, as long as he didn’t touch what was bubbling under the surface.

Ever since he had left Endo’s flat, even sober everyday life had seemed like a safe harbour. A place he clung to in spite of struggling through lessons, not really understanding most of it, and still solving a task that didn’t leave him feeling quite so stupid. Everything seemed fine.

Until the patrols started.

The heat burnt on his cheeks. June was full of life, and the people in proximity seemed happier than anything he knew from his hometown.

“Maybe we should all go out for ice cream today!” Nirei looked longingly at one sign offering large cups with lots of fruit – limited and only available for a short time.

Sakura followed the blond’s gaze. If you looked closely, most of them were now selling things for the summer. Lots of goodies to attract customers, which only reminded him he couldn’t afford any of it. He lowered his head and pushed his hands deeper into his jacket pockets. Saving money. Always saving up. He had to be prepared, had to put money aside, had to find some way out. Otherwise, he would lose his mind. If only because of this damn school trip.

If even the slightest bit of what Mitsuki and Suo had said was true, he had to be more careful. Every bit of information counted if he was to escape the clutches of a hopeless situation. Above all, because he didn’t want to imagine the lengths Furin would go to in order to make all its students at least halfway happy. If the teachers could find a way, his nightmares would suddenly become reality.

Shaking his head, he pulled his shoulders up. Only when Nirei managed a soft, “Sakura-san?”, did he twitch.

“Maybe in the future.”

“How about today after the patrol?”

“Shouldn’t we wait until it’s warmer?” Maybe in August, when they were on holiday anyway and he could somehow disappear from the face of the earth. Unseen.

“Some people eat ice cream even in winter,” Suo added dryly, and it was another one of those moments when he was no help at all.

Sometimes it felt like Hayato was saying all these things to bring something obvious into focus. Now and then he would simply say these terribly straightforward statements. There was no question, of course, that he took pleasure in slowly driving others mad with his clues.

“Right!” Nirei jumped on it as usual. “You can always eat ice cream. Come on, Saku–“

He got no further when a loud rumble reached them, and all attention shifted to a shopkeeper, who found himself surrounded by four delinquents. An offer sign splintered under the blow of an iron bar, laughter rang out over the heads of some passers-by. Some stopped. Nobody helped.

And all at once, everything in Haruka fell silent. The panic, the worry, the constant circling around what he couldn’t control, all that sank away like stones in a lake. Instead, a cold calm spread through him.

“Looks like we have visitors from outside.” The smile unchanged on his lips, Suo surveyed the circumstances.

Haruka only noticed it as an aside. His gaze wandered from Hayato to the thugs. Simple opponents. Loud, but not dangerous. Anyone who had been in Makochi for any length of time knew that such thugs were crushed by Bofurin. So anyone who dared to attack the citizens here despite this knowledge was either an idiot or not from here.

“We should show them what happens when you harass the people of Makochi,” Nirei agreed. “I’ll watch the shopkeeper!”

Haruka would have finished them off on his own. Without rushing, with controlled calm, even if it looked a little different underneath. He wanted this fight. He needed it. Because the thunder of fists and the splintering of bones would finally silence what had been wearing him down for days.

Having Suo by his side was just a way to clear up the circumstances faster. Not something he valued because it stole the opportunity to empty his mind by force until there was nothing left of him. But perhaps it was for the best. This way he couldn’t end up like Kanji against GRAVEL.

Without so much as a glance at Suo, Sakura started moving. The other two followed him – as always – careful not to be too noticeable.

“Well, old man, where’s your wallet?” one stranger called out mockingly. His hands casually buried in his trouser pockets, he conveyed the image of a typical thug who wanted to express coolness in his demeanour but in reality was just a poor joke of a fighter. Very few lived up to what they embodied.

“Leave him alone.” Close to the guy, Sakura paused, so near that he didn’t have to raise his voice. If the strangers were smart, they would have turned away and left. No one would have stopped them, no one would have mocked them. It was the fairest unspoken offer he could have given them.

However, the reaction of the older ones turned out to be exactly what he had feared when they turned to him. “And what do you little losers want?”

A quick glance to the side brought Nirei into view. He had positioned himself in front of the old man, ready to defend him with everything he had. Suo, meanwhile, was waiting just a breath away. Haruka could literally feel that one eye burning into his back. An unyielding gaze that simultaneously supported and harassed him. A shiver crawled down his spine.

“You want to mess with us?” Straightening his shoulders, the leader of this troop bent down to him. The crooked grin on his features showed equally crooked teeth, and Sakura let out a sigh.

If they didn’t want to go, there was only the way that everyone in Makochi knew. The Bofurin way. The only route that still gave him security when everything else was uncertain. With a determined shove, Haruka placed his hand flat on the man’s chest and pushed him back.

It was the starting shot in creating order.

With a strangled sound of horror, Sakura’s opponent caught himself. Raising his hand, he gestured to his comrades to hold back before putting one foot forward to rush towards Haruka. But he was too late – and, above all, too slow.

Sakura literally leapt towards him, braced himself against the attacker’s shoulder and spun into the air with a somersault. For a tiny moment, he saw the world upside down, the sun blinding him, the voices of the crowd a blur. Then he landed smoothly on his feet, gave the stunned men around him a brief, almost mocking smile and swept his opponent’s legs away with a spinning heel kick.

The crash with which the guy fell vibrated almost triumphantly in Haruka’s chest.

Next to him, Suo blocked the punch of another with stoic calm. He intercepted a fist, pulled the arm towards him and delivered a hard low kick to the thigh of his stumbling opponent. Movements so precise, so elegant that they looked as if he had practised them a hundred times. Face contorted, Hayato’s opponent could not keep up as Suo hammered an elbow against his chest and finished the sequence with a clean shoulder throw. In the blink of an eye, the guy was flat on the ground, gasping for breath.

The last two only hesitated for a heartbeat before attacking at the same time.

Sakura took it with inner joy, then jumped to the side, used a wall as a springboard and catapulted himself into the air. He turned his body with practised ease. For a moment he seemed to float, then his feet crashed with full force against his opponent’s chest. A muffled sound, a groan, and the bloke’s body flew back.

Suo, meanwhile, intercepted the other’s onslaught head-on. The guy threw his right at him just as Suo took half a step to the side and grabbed his arm. With a flowing turn, he continued the attacker’s movement, causing him to stumble into the void. Before his opponent could regain his balance, Suo had already grabbed his wrist and twisted it painfully downwards, forcing him to his knees. A controlled flip and a clean rollover followed – the guy crashed hard onto his back and lay dazed.

For a second, a gasp filtered through to them before the leader of the troop picked himself up again. Pressing a hand to his chest, he snorted disdainfully. “I’ll end you!”

A worthless threat.

He lunged at Sakura a second time but he lacked the force, the element of surprise. Haruka blocked the blow with a quick arm movement, skilfully spun out of the line and counterattacked. The moment he focussed the tension in his body, he felt the tight sarashi rub around his chest – a short, burning pain, as if it were cutting into his flesh. But Sakura didn’t let that slow him down. With a powerful thrust of his foot into the upper body of his attacker, he swept him off his feet. The lanky guy crashed to the ground, gasping loudly, but this time he stayed down. Silence reigned for a moment. Then the other three, who had struggled to get to their feet, rushed to their leader. Without another word, they pulled him up and stumbled away together – beaten like children who had realised too late that everything had consequences.

Haruka took a deep breath, so big that it almost hurt. His muscles slowly loosened, but his hand still travelled to his chest, where the sarashi burnt. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Suo’s brief glance in his direction. But he said nothing. Not a single word. And Haruka forced himself to remain silent as well, to pretend that everything was in check.

But the pounding of his heart was too loud, his thoughts too fast. The relief he had briefly found in the violence turned to unease in the next breath. A gnawing feeling that nothing was over.

The older man, meanwhile, breathed a sigh of relief. “I... Thank you,” he stammered as he wiped his hands on his trousers. “These students from out of town ... that these guys even find the time to come here and provoke a fight.”

“We’re always happy to help,” Nirei interjected with an almost beaming smile, raising his hands as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “That’s what Bofurin is here for.”

“And with any luck, they’ll discourage their fellow students from coming here and stirring up trouble,” Suo added, his hands clasped behind his back as if nothing had ever happened.

Sakura studied him. The conversation rushed past him like voices from another room. He heard them, but they meant nothing. Everything in him was focused on Suo, on this straight, unwavering stance that seemed strong almost nonchalantly. In moments like these, Hayato was non-transparent, barely tangible, as if there was something behind the relaxed facade he would never reveal.

Haruka’s stomach tightened. Mouth agape, he turned his interest in another direction. If Suo didn’t say a thing, it also meant that he silently pushed aside the sight of Haruka’s weakness. No comment, no enquiries. For Haruka, that was a relief and a burden at the same time. He was spared another lie, and yet it felt as if it was hanging invisibly in the air.

“Sakura-san!” Nirei snapped him out of his thoughts abruptly. “Come on!”

Haruka took a heartbeat too long to react. His head whipped around, but his eyes found Suo first. His face still wore that easy, small smile. But there was no peace in his eye. There was only that lacklustre stare, boring through Haruka as if trying to pin him down.

Still, Sakura forced himself to take his eyes off Hayato and turn his attention to Nirei. The latter was just grabbing his arm to pull him along. “We can’t say no when we’re offered free ice cream!”

Haruka stumbled unsteadily after the blond. But even as Nirei’s voice babbled merrily, he still felt the invisible pressure of Suo on the back of his neck and, underneath, the uncomfortable throbbing that even the thought of free ice cream couldn’t relieve.

》CHERRY BLOSSOM《

Clenching his teeth, Sakura stared at the ceiling above him. The sweet taste of ice cream was still on his tongue but the pleasure was missing. Instead, he remembered Hayato, the stare of his “friend” and the silence that had emanated from him.

Nirei had spoken ceaselessly, as if he were the only drop of glue holding them together. A tireless babble about things that didn’t really matter to anyone and yet saved everything. Suo had responded to it from time to time, and Sakura had answered occasionally. Everything seemed superficially normal, just as it had always been – two silent boys and one who filled the gap with words.

But behind this apparent normality, something threatening was hidden. A tension so thick that every breath became heavier. One wrong word, a brief standstill and the construct would have collapsed. Kiryu’s talk about the school trip and Akihiko’s raving about the crazy ice combinations had only built a fragile bridge that allowed them not to see the abyss beneath. Nirei hadn’t even realised how close everything had come to tearing apart.

A long sigh escaped Haruka’s lips. He turned on his side, his gaze fixed on his hands. The sarashi lay next to him, a little bloody in one place. He had tied it too tightly and caused chafing. It burnt like fire under his arms, there were ugly bruises around his chest, and just underneath it his skin shimmered with an irritated red colour.

How much longer would he be able to avoid Suo if nothing really worked?

If he closed his eyes, he could already visualise how they would ask more questions. Hayato knew how to find weak spots, how to touch them until they burnt. Sharp side blows that would eventually make him go mad, because Suo could drive vulnerable people up the wall with mere words.

And at the moment, Haruka was just that: vulnerable.

His eyelids fluttered slightly as he tore himself away from the blackness and let his mind wander. Endo’s offer still lurked like a taunting monster in the back of his mind. Mocking, patient, as if it knew Haruka would have to give in eventually. Every day he failed, it seemed more tempting. What other choice did he have?

He couldn’t find anyone to give him a job at ungodly shit hours because he was too young. Even if he would have been sixteen, they would have sent him home before the streets went quiet. In this place, the police might have thrown in the towel, but the residents tried to make sure that everyone here followed the classic rules of Japan and that every teenager waited peacefully at home after twenty-three o’clock.

And he was looking for the exact opposite: work when the world was asleep. Work that nobody saw.

It was doomed to fail.

Sure, he could have lowered his expectations. Maybe a job that kept him busy in the early evening, right after patrol. Preferably in Keisei Street, because someone was always needed there. Or perhaps working in the harbour, a little further away. But with the former option, the chance of bumping into Tsubakino was too high. And with the latter option, he had to factor in that more than enough people could cross his path. Every attempt to find a solution ended at a new wall.

Sakura clicked his tongue tensely. He was too afraid of something he had to overcome. If he didn’t pull himself together, his options really did drop to zero. It was already hard enough to find someone who would trust him with hard physical labour. He was always told the same thing: that he should rather do things that were fun. Just as Tsubakino had fun on the pole, there should also be something out there for him. Something that “suited his age”. Something he couldn’t do.

Haruka had no talents. Hauling things around was good enough, and most importantly, it was fun enough when you thought about the pay cheque and thus the damn chest binder he was missing. All he needed was that one piece of cloth. But every day he was rejected brought him closer to Endo. Closer to the offer that disgusted and tempted him at the same time. Because as much as he hated it, it was the only way that guaranteed him time and invisibility.

And he knew Endo didn’t want attention. Not as long as he had his game sorted.

Sakura wasn’t going to let him win. Never. Endo couldn’t be allowed to have the upper hand – not over him. And yet his mind kept probing at the supposed advantages, clinging to every thin thread to paint this job in a better light. After all, it wasn’t just money. It was a once-in-a-lifetime thing. A job that not only helped him but Makochi as well. If he completed the task, if he destroyed the goods, then he was doing something that could definitely be called good. One less illegal activity. A business that slipped away from KEEL. A small but significant cut into the shadows that lay over the city. And yes, the burning seemed extreme. But it was just tobacco. Just a consumer product that didn’t deserve a place here. No people who suffered, no lives that were taken. Just smoke that fizzled out.

He told himself it would be a piece of cake. A minor inconvenience, a necessary step. When he repeated to himself that he was doing it for the people of Makochi – not for Endo – it was almost honourable.

Shaking his head, Sakura got up to drag himself into the bathroom. His mind went blank until he reached the mirror. Then he caught sight of himself, and the forced silence in his skull broke.

Black and white hair. One eye as dark as the shadows of the street. The other a warming gold. As if two different boys were looking at him, even though they both had the same body and the same name.

He bent down and let cold water run over his hands and splash against his cheeks. The cold stung, didn’t wash away the thoughts, but made them seem clearer. Then he looked at himself again and scrutinised the soft features that somehow didn’t fit him. Not at that moment.

All the while, he moved his lips, forming words, but only managed a whisper that was all his own.

Taking Endo’s job was fine. Just one job. Just one. One time doing something he didn’t like, and then everything would be smooth again. After that, he would be safe. With a new binder, he would be strong again, himself again. Everything would go back to normal.

He immediately grabbed a nearby towel and dried his face with quick movements, as if he wanted to rub away the doubts at the same time. Then he turned away and crept back to the futon, back to the place where he buried his decision in the sheets like an unspoken confession. And there in the semi-darkness, he found the courage to accept the whole thing.

He would approach Endo in this way and smash him down if the option presented itself. He wouldn’t just play along, Haruka held on to that. So he took a deep breath, reached for the mobile phone next to him and opened the chat. His fingers trembled a little as they glided over the keyboard. Four words that felt like stones in his chest. Four words heavier than anything he’d ever written.

I’ll take the job.

And even when he pressed send, they didn’t get any lighter.

Chapter Text

»Suo-chan? I’m sure he’s pretty skilled at war.«

– Kiryu Mitsuki
To his sister when she asked how he sees his friends.

Although there was no reason for it, Hayato could feel the tension at the table. The air seemed thicker than usual, the secrets between them more apparent than ever, and the ice cream melted a little too blandly on his tongue.

Something was wrong. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but it was there, between them, tangible yet invisible.

In the background, Nirei was chattering away. Of course he was. About something trivial, perhaps an observation about the people here – Hayato didn’t know. His words barely registered with him. Normally, he would have picked up on every detail, every punctuation, every little gesture. He was good at listening, perhaps even too good. He knew how to decipher things, how to read people, how to find their unspoken thoughts in their movements. There was nothing he couldn’t figure out somehow, and yet when he looked at Sakura, everything he had worked so hard to learn didn’t matter. The teachings of his grandfather and also the teachings of his master had never seemed so useless to him.

Sakura’s facial expressions escaped him. It was as if someone had changed the language he thought he had understood his whole life. A barely noticeable twitch, a blink that lasted too long, a shadow over his eyes – he couldn’t tell if he was just imagining it. Maybe the problem wasn’t with Sakura at all. Maybe it was him who was misreading the signs.

The metal spoon clinked against the glass in which the ice cream had been served. For him, vanilla, a little lemon, and yoghurt, with a slight hint of ginger that brought something very special with it. He would have liked this flavour before, the fine balance between sweet and spicy. Now it seemed somehow artificial. Yet it was a flavour that suited Sakura, because they were both just there. Unexpected, unique, and never quite fitting.

Suo’s gaze once again fell on Haruka’s body. The spot he had touched earlier, indecisive and clearly in pain, lay untransparent before him. No blood, nothing to give him a clue. Perhaps Sakura had been injured in another fight. It didn’t happen often, but sometimes he got hurt. Not because he was careless, but because he hit his opponents too hard and didn’t care about his own injuries. Sometimes it seemed as if he didn’t even notice when someone hurt him, as if a good fight emptied him of everything.

Today that wasn’t the case. The young men they had beaten into flight had been no challenge. And that was probably why Sakura felt something he might otherwise have missed: pain.

And that was okay; it always had been. After all, they were constantly getting into some kind of conflict. It was just part of Makochi. But that didn’t explain why Haruka was trying to hide. Himself, his pain, his restlessness, the things that marked him so clearly.

Or maybe Suo was seeing things that weren’t there. Maybe his perception was distorting the picture and turning simple, natural gestures into mistrust.

But then he noticed how Sakura tried to discreetly adjust his jacket and how his fingers trembled for a moment, and Hayato no longer knew whether what he saw was reality or imagination.

The ice cream melted far too quickly on his tongue as he turned his attention back to the gift from the old man they had helped out of a tight spot. The coldness in the glass matched the one Sakura showed him. Worse still, lately he seemed to be drifting further and further away. It was a miracle that no one else had noticed, even though it seemed so obvious.

The beads of sweat on his forehead when someone mentioned the school trip.

The strained voice when he told a lie.

All the seconds when he couldn’t maintain eye contact, like a hunted animal, constantly looking for a way out. And the cruellest part was the certainty that he didn’t share any of this with his friends. As if they weren’t an option, not a place where he could ask for help.

“What do you say, Suo-san? These ice cream flavours are great, aren’t they? We should tell the others that they should really come here!” Nirei’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

If he drifted too far away, things would get awkward, and the most mature thing to do in such a situation was to pretend that everything was normal. Smile. Look cheerful. Pretend that a little chaos in the world was there for everyone’s enjoyment.

“That would certainly make the shopkeeper happy,” Suo replied. “We should just make sure that Sugishita-kun doesn’t feel the need to get involved with Sakura-kun again. Physical contact is good and important but harmful to nearby furniture, according to Kotoha-kun.”

Nirei’s horrified snort at the thought made Hayato’s smile a little more sincere. Simultaneously, he ventured a glance at Sakura, who hadn’t reacted to a single word. His movements were mechanical, rhythmic, almost diligent. He put the spoon in the glass, pushed the ice cream onto his tongue, swallowed the coldness and repeated the process over and over again, always in the same way. As if it were a duty. As if there were no enjoyment in between.

“Last time, Kotoha-san almost took matters into her own hands,” Akihiko whimpered, twisting a napkin between his fingers. “Sakura-san, whatever Sugishita-san says, you just don’t listen, okay?”

To Hayato’s surprise, Sakura gave an affirmative grunt. He had been listening, he had even reacted. Maybe he wasn’t as far gone as feared after all. Maybe Suo was worrying for nothing.

It was an almost childish thought, because one good moment didn’t make all the bad ones disappear. Still, Hayato clung to it as if it were proof that everything was fine. After all, they were just sitting there, eating ice cream and making small talk. No reason to be nervous. No reason to wonder why Sakura’s shoulders seemed so stiff. No reason to notice that everyone else’s spoons were clinking in unison.

And yet it all felt as if this normality was nothing more than a thin skin that was about to tear. Every breath, every smile, every random word distorted the reality behind it.

Truth was, Sakura hadn’t been quite himself since he had crossed paths with Endo. Truth was also that things had been steadily going downhill ever since. The walls that had previously seemed a little less thick and daunting now enclosed Haruka. There was no way to reach him anymore.

But the secret behind such fortresses was that they would eventually collapse. Always. No matter how solid they seemed, no matter how convincing the foundation appeared, it was only a matter of time before the first crack appeared. And once it was there, it spread, drawing lines through everything that had been painstakingly maintained. By then at the latest, everything would get much worse. Suo knew that. Not from experience. He himself had learnt from his master to be transparently opaque, to present himself in such a way that he was seen but never understood. The people around him thought they knew him. They thought they knew what he believed, what he liked, and how he lived. But they knew nothing at all.

Not that he lived in a house where he was only a guest.

Not that he liked his mother the most.

Not how much he wanted to get away from here, even though he loved Makochi.

He always revealed half of himself, hid the rest, and kept his protective wall halfway up. High enough to be safe, low enough for others to believe they could overcome it.

But Sakura was different. He had no practice with such things. It was more than obvious that everything with him somehow counted as all or nothing. And he probably really believed that he was balancing somewhere in between, on a narrow line that didn’t actually exist.

Perhaps Suo recognised all these signs so well simply because they were so familiar. Because he knew the way people cornered themselves when they believed they had to be strong.

Whatever the reason, the heaviness in Haruka’s posture, manner and demeanour had become clearer, and that was anything but good.

Part of Hayato winced at the thought. The deeper the certainty sank in that something was wrong with Sakura, the tighter his chest became. Looking at his friend in that moment only reinforced the uncomfortable feeling that he didn’t want to see him like this. He liked the strong Sakura. The boy who charged headfirst into problems and preferred to solve them directly. His “leader” who took matters into his own hands when necessary and handled conflicts with ease. What was complicated for others usually had a very simple solution for Haruka.

KEEL? There was no shame in asking friends for help.

Shizuka? Helpless people had to be protected, no matter what the reason for the conflict was.

Arguments among themselves? Conversation.

Unnecessary fights? Let them come to a mutual understanding.

The latter had been taught to him by Umemiya.

And they had all been moments and situations in which someone had needed help in some way. Moments in which Sakura had offered a hand so they would confide in him.

This made the fact that he himself didn’t ask for help all the more incomprehensible. Sakura Haruka just swallowed his problems. It was like a snake bite. The poison seeped into his body while he pretended nothing was wrong. He probably already had practice at it, although Suo could see how far the poison had already progressed. It was up to his neck, and yet he continued to swallow as if giving up wasn’t an option.

The last spoonful of ice cream stayed in Hayato’s mouth longer than necessary. The cold bit into his throat, almost burning. Nirei was still talking, careful to name each flavour and figure out how they complemented each other. He seemed so absorbed in his attempts that he didn’t even notice Sakura biting his lower lip absent-mindedly before hastily swallowing another scoop of ice cream, as if he had to prevent anything from coming up.

Words, perhaps.

Or the truth.

And maybe this simple action already held the answer to all the questions that were bothering Suo. Maybe Sakura didn’t talk to anyone about his problem because he was bad with words. It was possible that he didn’t know how to express himself plausibly. And maybe everything would get better if someone offered him help.

They were friends, and as such, they helped each other out. If Nirei didn’t notice that something was wrong, then it was up to him. He would take a step towards Sakura. Quite simply. Very carefully. As if he wanted to convince a wild cat that he would feed it if it just came a little closer.

Having made his decision, Hayato prepared his mind. He would ask, but not in the slightly probing way he usually did. Instead, he would approach Haruka openly and honestly, with a smile on his lips to show that everything was fine – that talking didn’t have to be bad, even if the words were difficult to find.

With his hands folded on the table, he watched as Nirei asked the old man at the next table for the secret to such good ice cream. A trivial moment, a smile here, a nod there. For Hayato, it was an opening, a moment that he and Haruka had all to themselves.

So Hayato opened his mouth, his voice as gentle as possible. Without emphasis, without bite in his undertone, without that certain something that often spurred some flames out of pure entertainment. In those breaths, he was just a boy who wanted to help his friend.

“Sakura-kun?”

Only slowly did Haruka’s gaze seem to wander in his direction. When he looked at Suo like that, he seemed almost normal. No worries, no doubts, just him, with a question mark on his face. It was the perfect condition to break through the wall.

“You seem depressed lately. Ever since we met Endo-kun, I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong.” Suo tapped his chest cautiously as he watched Sakura’s eyes widen. “Did he hurt you badly that evening? Are you still having problems with it? I know how painful those hits can be.”

He paused briefly. A moment for the words to sink in. But every second that hung between them only made Haruka turn pale as a ghost. So Hayato started again, both hands raised.

“I just want you to know that Nire-kun and I are here for you. If you’re struggling with anything, then–“

“I’m fine,” Sakura interrupted him. Not harshly, not loudly. He sounded breathless, a little tired, as if he had repeated this one sentence to himself a thousand times in order to believe it.

And it made his statement hollow, meaningless, because obviously nothing was okay. Something was going terribly wrong, so Hayato couldn’t help but apply a little more pressure. Not that he wanted to go that far, but something inside him was certain that Sakura needed help. That he needed someone to care about him, even if it was uncomfortable. It wasn’t really his style, because he basically stayed out of such situations, but this boy meant something to him.

He really did.

“Is it 'fine' because you want it to be, or is it 'fine' because you don’t know what else to do?”

“I don’t know what you want from me.” Haruka looked away. Him of all people. He usually only avoided eye contact when things got romantically awkward. “I just ... have a lot on my mind.”

“Because of family problems?” Suo pressed. He knew he was going too far, but he had to probe, had to let that sharp promise to dig even deeper resonate, in the mere hope that Sakura would confide in him.

But that was precisely the hurdle between them. It became horribly clear in this instant: Haruka didn’t trust him. He would much rather pretend Hayato didn’t exist. Part of him seemed to simply ignore that last question, as if he wanted to avoid breaking the tension between them. His lips were sealed.

Sakura remained silent.

And for the first time in a long while, Suo felt a stinging in his chest that didn’t belong there. It pierced straight through his heart, constricting his throat and leaving only one thought in his head: Sakura didn’t see him as a helping hand. Here, he was just another problem. Something to be shaken off. He had believed that they had all grown closer. After all, Furin had brought them together.

Or had it?

Had Furin really done that?

Considering his own situation and the half-truths he sometimes fed the others, combined with all the secrets he kept – had Furin really brought them together, or had it just thrown them into the same box, hoping they would somehow work it out?

His lips pressed into a thin line, he swallowed dryly. If that was where they stood, perhaps it would be wiser to keep it the same as when Sakura had been ill. Drop by. Offer help. Wait and see. Let someone else take care of it.

Nirei, perhaps.

Or Kotoha.

They were both much better suited to the job.

Anyone was better suited to it than he was.

》THE  MOCKINGBIRD《

Hayato Suo was good at making decisions. At least, that’s what he told himself. After all, years ago, this ability had helped him get through his master’s training, day after day, until the impatient boy had become someone who knew when to act and when to remain silent. It had made him “strong”.

And being strong meant being able to let go. Not complicating things unnecessarily. Restraining feelings until they became bearable.

So he had decided to let the matter rest. As he always did. Sure, watching Sakura was part of his nature, and he wouldn’t stop doing it, but he would no longer interfere. No more sneaky questions, no more attempts to find out something that was none of his business. It wasn’t his right to demand more. After all, they were nothing more than friends who were just a little more than acquaintances.

Still, when he turned in his futon and tried to close this chapter, the pages in his book seemed to stick together. He couldn’t just turn the page, and he didn’t even know why.

He rolled onto his side, listened to the muffled sounds outside – the wind, the distant hiss of a cat, the rustling of the trees – and felt the unease growing inside him. Why was it so hard to accept that people had secrets, that they crumbled without anyone being able to save them?

Perhaps he cared more about this friendship than he wanted to admit. Perhaps he wanted it to last, even though few people stayed together for a lifetime. Perhaps he even longed for something that simply didn’t end, and in that sense he was no better than most other people in Makochi.

Nowhere else had he ever felt as comfortable as in Furin. Here he was truly useful, without having to strive for a little more justice on his own. They were all pulling in the same direction. And with Sakura and Nirei, every day was something to look forward to. Just thinking about the two of them made many things easier. Now, watching part of that joy turn to ashes gnawed away at the calm he usually maintained.

Sakura’s expression, that look of fear and unease in response to a simple question, all the rejection he radiated – it was a miracle that Nirei hadn’t noticed anything. Simultaneously, it was sad that Akihiko was the only thing binding them together. This blond-haired boy had brought them together on the very first day, and now he was holding them together with pure willpower, with optimism, with this unshakeable, childishly naive conviction that friendship could fix everything.

It was absurd that he hadn’t noticed Sakura’s change. Either that, or Nirei had noticed and decided to keep quiet. Perhaps he was now taking to heart what Suo had said to him back then, after they had given Haruka some things for his flu. Sometimes it was better not to interfere and just wait and see. Trying to find things out by force often ended up with everything falling apart. Consequently, there was a possibility that Akihiko was acting more wisely than Hayato was. He did the most logical thing. The right thing.

It was almost pathetic that Suo had gone out of his way to do something that was so unlike him. He had been taught better.

However, the mere fact that he cared so much about Haruka was something he had never experienced before. His master hadn’t prepared him for moments like this. That meant he had to find his own way. And preferably one that didn’t corner Sakura or make things more difficult for him.

Anything would be better than scaring Haruka away and hurting his already fragile heart again. After all, they were all vulnerable in some way. Some more than others. They all had their weak spots. With Sakura, it started when someone asked for his trust.

Sighing, Hayato narrowed his eyes and tried not to think about it anymore. It was late. He had to get up at six to get ready, have breakfast and meditate. If he didn’t finally fall asleep and put off his problems until tomorrow, he would regret it.

But peace was something that couldn’t be forced. First he put one arm over his face, then he pressed his fingers against his temples as if that would loosen a knot. Immediately afterwards, he rolled from one side to the other. He pulled his legs up, stretched them out again, sat up and squinted into the darkness before lying down again and doing everything he could to find inner peace. It was a bit like meditating, only with the subtle, stinging feeling of despair behind it.

The oppressive sensation in his chest remained.

What if Sakura was in serious trouble? What if he didn’t ask for help because he had gotten himself into so much trouble that even the slightest sound from his lips could trigger an avalanche? Hayato could see him in front of him: Haruka, taking everything in stride, smiling, fighting on until the world around him fell apart. The thought made his throat tighten. He knew that in moments like these, Sakura often foolishly chose the hardest path.

It was stupid thinking with no real point. After all, they were all mature enough not to go too far. On the other hand, there were incidents like the KEEL one, where someone had fallen into a spiral from which they couldn’t escape. Maybe Haruka was stuck in something like that. Maybe it was more than the obvious injury caused by Endo; maybe a whole series of things were pulling at him, a web of shame, obligations and fear. Hayato didn’t want to allow for the possibility, but his mind, as clear as it might be, clung to every possible explanation.

It was a terrible thought, considering that Endo Yamato wasn’t someone to mess with. The fact that Haruka had encountered him and that a blow had been dealt complicated matters enough. But the fear in Sakura’s eyes didn’t seem to stem from that encounter alone. It was as if there was something else lurking deep beneath the surface. Something old and unspoken that flinched at every mention of family or responsibility.

“A problem with family.”

The thought flashed through his mind like lightning, and although it made little sense, Suo’s stomach knotted up. Just like that, without explanation, only with the slowly germinating desire to squeeze the knowledge he lacked out of Haruka. But not in the way most others did.

If he really wanted to interfere, he had to do it slowly. Unseen. Step by step, using methods that Sakura wouldn’t notice. That was what he was best at: small controlling movements, subtle corrections, gentle pressure here, a distraction there. He would create an illusion in which Haruka felt safe enough to relax.

However, a sudden change would catch his attention. He would notice when the pressure that had previously weighed on him simply disappeared.

On the other hand, sudden, albeit feigned, disinterest in his worries would certainly be comparable to salvation from all the things that were causing him headaches.

For the moment, he kept a low profile, determined not to attract anyone’s attention. If Suo gave in to provide Haruka with some kind of artificial security...

His thoughts drifted off. The knot in his stomach slowly loosened. Despite the bitterness that gnawed at him, a glimmer of hope crept into his thinking. On nights like these, that was sometimes all that kept a person afloat. A glimmer of light that said it was still possible to change something. Hayato clung to that thought. Not to a possible triumph, not to the illusion that he could solve everything, but to the simple truth that he wouldn’t remain passive.

And the others were still there too.

Perhaps Nirei, with his unwavering kindness, would find a way to gain deeper insight into Sakura’s circumstances. Or perhaps Kotoha would casually drop a remark that would prove to be the key – just as she had done before.

Suddenly, it was quite clear. He would let Sakura win the battle in order to win the war. Just as friends had to fight each other when nothing else worked anymore.

Chapter Text

»It’s not like we did this for nothing. It was for my family.
For Kaga it was money for food. And for Sakura?
I think it was... I don’t know.«

– Wanijima Yugo
To Togame, a long time after it happened.

With his eyes fixed on his mobile phone, Haruka tried to ignore the knot in his stomach. But he knew it was pointless. Cold sweat clung to his skin, even though the heat of the month was rising daily and it was anything but cold. Yet no matter how many times he took a deep breath, the trembling beneath his surface remained. He couldn’t just pretend everything was fine when he’d taken a job from Endo. A deal that promised him money in exchange for part of his dignity.

Once again, Sakura glanced at the display. Endo had given him an address that meant nothing to him. Another place where he was a stranger, and another promise of walking around like an idiot because he couldn’t find it. His legs carried him between buildings, to a corner where a few warehouses were lined up, presumably as storage space for something. He couldn’t force himself to actually register any of the desolate sights. All his head was aware of was the time in brightly flashing digits on his smartphone.

Another hour until closing time for young people began. Not that it had any value in Makochi. Still, he didn’t want to stand out, didn’t want a rumour to spread about him. He didn’t look particularly discreet, he knew that. The darkness only helped him to a limited extent; it didn’t protect him against people who looked closely. And it was precisely these people he was afraid of. They kept the idea of being caught alive.

When he finally noticed a sign with a street name and number, Sakura stood still as if nailed to the spot. In front of him was another warehouse, plain and run-down like the others, except that its metal door was half open. Light shimmered out onto the street, beckoning him, inviting him to come closer. He cautiously approached the entrance to take a look inside – into a room that was almost large enough for two young men and a cheap car. The emptiness seemed oppressive, almost unreal, and Sakura could feel his hands clenching into painful fists in his jacket pockets.

“Oh?” When one of the guys noticed him and raised his head, Haruka squared his shoulders. “So we meet again...”

“You wouldn’t think one of Furin would even have the balls to show up for crap like this,” the other added. His black viking cut and piercing, far-too-small pupils looked somehow familiar, but not in a way that made him feel good. Sakura feverishly searched his memory without finding any tangible clue. “Though I suppose I shouldn’t say that too loudly, considering how thoroughly you tore us apart.”

For a moment, Sakura just stared at the guy, unable to place him in his muscle-toned shirt with any of the guys he’d once punched. He generally didn’t remember many of the faces that met his fist. Perhaps it was for the best. Because the other grinned wryly, raised his hands in a gesture that was meant to look friendly but only increased his insecurity, and tilted his head so that his silver, wavy hair bobbed slightly. “Underestimating Furin rarely leads to anything good.”

Then he took a step closer, too close for Sakura’s comfort, and held out his hand – open, inviting, depressingly binding. “Wanijima Yuga. Student at Shishitoren. I ... was one of those who spoke out against Choji’s way of leading.” Briefly, he gestured loosely to his mate with one thumb. “And this is Kaga Renji, a former member of KEEL.”

Sakura felt something inside him tighten even further. Part of him wanted to accept the friendly greeting; the rest of him couldn’t bring himself to relax his clenched fists. KEEL. It was hardly surprising that one of them stabbed the others in the back. They had never had any principles. They each ran after their own advantage, as if loyalty was just a joke told to others. In a way, they were a perfect match for Endo, even if he would probably have denied it.

Wanijima, meanwhile, belonged to Shishitoren, and if only half of what he claimed was true, it made no sense for him to show up in this remote place at all. What did Endo have on him? What ugly threat, what leverage was enough to force a Shishitoren boy into such a miserable task? An unpleasant thought settled in his mind. If even these kinds of people worked for someone like this bastard, where exactly did he stand? Was there even a chance for him to get away from someone like Endo Yamato?

All he managed to get out was a bland nod, accompanied by a mumbled “Sakura” that barely made it past his lips. Not the friendliest way to meet these two, but the only one he could manage. And to his surprise, it was enough. None of the others cared about his way of refusing a hand and keeping his distance. Still, Yugo didn’t let up as he braced his hands at his sides, his oversized shirt barely noticeably highlighting the tall but lanky body beneath. Not even the black hooded jacket on his shoulders could save the picture.

“How come you ended up here? Endo’s friend? Or do you still owe him something? After all, it’s hard to imagine anyone from Furin voluntarily following Noroshi’s plans.”

“The boy is a first-year. He’s fifteen, maybe even sixteen. If he owes anything to someone like Endo, I’ll lose faith in Furin’s strength,” Renji interjected before pulling himself up from his crouching position and throwing his hands over his head. “You don’t want to owe that bastard anything.”

He was right about that. Nobody wanted to be part of Endo’s disgusting games. No one wanted to become a stone in his hands, a tool to be kicked around at his whim. But telling these two that he was in it for money to make his own life easier was out of the question. He knew nothing about them. They conveyed no more than the image of two guys who had long since lost control of their lives. They were living on the edge of existence. And he himself was just one step behind them, on the same cliff – one misstep and he would slide down the same way, drained and forced to take on more and more of Endo, losing everything that still held him together.

“For us, it’s money,” Kaga suddenly interrupted his thought, as if he could read Sakura’s mind. “Somehow we’re always so short of money, and when the odd jobs don’t pay enough, Endo helps us out. Especially Wanijima, right?”

“We just can’t afford to make a mistake,” Yugo replied evasively, his gaze darting restlessly around the room before he gestured to the cheap pile of metal with the car keys. “Anyway, shall we get started?”

It was all happening too fast. Too smooth. A quick introduction, a few brittle words, and now he was just supposed to follow them as if he was part of their little group. Nothing about it made Sakura feel safe. So he forced himself to take hold of the communication, to direct it, to get involved. It was too late to get away anyway.

“Is there a plan?” His voice was just a murmur, a half-loud sound that he had also managed when he had first met Kotoha. Sometimes the words just stuck with him. Almost as if they didn’t want to help him close the distance between himself and others.

“Of course!” Yugo had heard him anyway, thankfully. He went to the car, yanked open the boot and forced a pungent odour into the air. Inside were six canisters of petrol, thirty litres of pure fire accelerant. The sharp odour crept up Sakura’s nose, and something in his stomach felt heavy. “Petrol and fire to burn down the storehouse.”

“KEEL will take everything there after their raid. They’re supposedly guarding it all the time, but that shouldn’t bother us. We can easily knock out a few of them.” Kaga had already dragged himself to the driver’s side to lean against the door. “We’ll have to park a bit out of the way so we don’t attract attention. As much as I hate playing hide-and-seek, Wanijima’s right, we can’t afford to make a mistake. As soon as we get a chance, we’ll go and arrange the planned campfire. We might have to wait a while before we can strike, but we’ll be fine.”

It sounded a little too easy. As if they’d played it out so many times that they no longer realised how much was at stake. But if Endo’s job could be that simple, he wasn’t going to complain. This way he would get home faster. It would end quicker, be forgotten sooner, be a distant issue that wouldn’t matter once everything was back to normal.

So he forced himself to walk to the silver car as well, though each step grew heavier the closer he got. Yugo unlocked the doors, and Haruka found a seat in the back. The smell of smoke and lemon lingered in the upholstery – a strange combination that made him wrinkle his nose.

The others took the front seats, completely oblivious to the fact that they were on their way to a place they were about to set on fire. It seemed surreal, the way these two guys were behaving. Sakura didn’t even want to think about how many jobs they had already done for Endo, even though they seemed to be of the firm opinion that it was better to stay away from people like Endo. In the end, money was more tempting for most of them than acting wisely. Something he saw in himself, in the horribly stupid decision to go that route because it was easier than getting someone in Makochi to hire him. This situation was probably the best someone like him could pull off. It was so predictable that it seemed almost laughable.

Sakura Haruka, the loser who let himself be tempted to do bad things in order to increase his own well-being with money.

He couldn’t possibly sink any lower.

Still, he didn’t change his mind. With his hands buried in his jacket pockets, he looked out of the window and observed the darkness that was covering his surroundings like a shroud. Every now and then they passed busy streets – maybe they were just driving in circles – and the two at the front talked non-stop. Not about what they were going to do. The subject disappeared into the background. Instead, they chatted about girls, failed dates, rising cigarette prices, ripped shirts, and pointless fights. Everyday trivia that Haruka barely listened to because he knew he couldn’t find any attachment to any of it. Girls? No connection. Dates? Impossible. Cigarettes? Not his thing. Clothes? He looked after the few items he owned as carefully as possible. He only knew what a violent life with money worries looked like, and even then they probably differed from each other. After all, he didn’t fight with others out of pure selfishness, and with his parents’ monthly handouts, he probably had more than these two before him.

When the car finally stopped, Sakura had to blink a few times to realise where they were. KEEL’s storehouse wasn’t far away. The Senkan Shipyard greeted them with rubbish and discarded electrical appliances lying around, remnants of a place no one kept track of anymore. Looking between the front seats, the gang’s hall was clearly visible. The moonlight helped to bathe everything in a blue glow and at the same time cast deep shadows over isolated spots that could have been used as hiding places.

They switched off the engine and lights, and then they sat in one of these dark patches like three figures who couldn’t have looked more obvious if they’d tried. It were long, endless minutes in which none of them said anything. Until a single man walked along the path, stepped into the hall and disappeared inside.

“I don’t know, but they haven’t finished their heist yet, have they?” Raising his brows, Renji ducked his head.

“Masuda hasn’t written yet. He said he’d get back to me when they get here,” Yugo replied.

Sakura just stared, watching the spot where nothing else was happening. Very slowly, he folded his hands between his legs, which he had placed slightly apart because this way of sitting seemed particularly “manly” to most. Many boys in the neighbourhood did it unconsciously. And sure, not everyone made an effort to be this cool – Nirei or Suo would just laugh about it – but it gave him a confidence that seemed vital in this car with two strangers.

“So ... what do we do now? Do we play a game until they’re ready?” Kaga glanced briefly at Sakura in the back seat. “Any ideas?”

“Not ... really.” Casual games weren’t part of his everyday assortment. Nirei would have been good at this point. He would certainly have had a thousand suggestions. Even with Suo, he could think of suitable answers.

“I see something you don’t see, and that’s–”

“Just don’t,” Renji groaned immediately at Yugo’s attempt. “It’s dark. Everything here is black or blue or ... whatever colour the moon is.”

A collective sigh, heavy and empty, filled the car for a moment. Then silence again. That unbearable tightness returned. There were thousands of topics, probably even opportunities to get to know each other, but it seemed that such information wasn’t much in demand when they took on jobs like this together. Perhaps so that they could pretend they didn’t know each other when the police intervened. Even if that would never happen. Sakura was fine with that.

Generally speaking, anything was fine with him as long as it didn’t result in his stomach being knotted up even more. But that’s exactly what happened. This pressure spread heavy like bricks. With every minute that they just sat there and waited, the doubts began to creep up on him. The silence seemed to claw at his chest, and the longer his gaze hung in the darkness, the tighter his insides tightened, as if the night itself was trying to swallow him up.

Kaga and Yugo were oblivious to all of this. They were glued to a word game with all their attention, the former almost shouting the words while his friend strung words together as if it wasn’t even a challenge. Every now and then, Haruka tried to focus on the two of them, but all he could make out were voices cutting through the darkness and yet making no impact.

It was only when a car drove along the road with its headlights flashing brightly that the atmosphere changed abruptly. The light only grazed them at the edges, just enough to keep them from being spotted, but still enough to make the tension under their skin burn. It made observation easier. More intense. Sakura didn’t even have to ask if this was KEEL. No one else would be in this place with a car at this hour.

Sure enough, the vehicle turned into the storehouse and disappeared. Wanijima let out an agonised sigh. “Masuda must have overslept that they were coming,” he began, picking at his lower lip piercing with his fingers. “Luckily they didn’t see us.”

“It’s amazing that all this stolen stuff fits in such a ridiculous pickup truck...” Renji scratched his neck and grimaced. “I almost wonder who they stole the car from...”

Sakura barely paid attention. His mind was clinging to something else: Kaga’s comment earlier. And he was right. It didn’t make sense that the entire load of a lorry could fit into a pickup truck.

“They probably only stole part of it. If they took the whole thing, there’d be trouble with the red light or restaurant district.” Unaffected, Yugo shrugged his shoulders. “And as soon as they miss something, the Roppo-Ichiza will get involved. As long as KEEL only takes a portion, it’s small enough not to cause any trouble. No consequences.”

An almost amused snort squeezed out of Haruka’s lungs. KEEL might have acted wisely, but they hadn’t taken Endo into account. And Endo’s consequences were a thousand times worse than any interference from the Roppo-Ichiza. Kanji would never have burnt down a warehouse. He would have simply beaten the living daylights out of KEEL and made it clear to them that they had no business in the area. They could have gotten away with it better than they did this evening, Sakura could tell that much. And it also seemed to be something that the other two understood, as they gave him an approving smile.

“Yes, Sakura is right. Just when you think you’re getting away with your master plan, Endo ruins everything for you,” Yugo sighed, and Renji let out a long breath of air as well.

“Those weaklings in there ... man ... I would have voluntarily turned myself in if I were them, just to get out of this shit. But that’s the way it is. This place... and so much more... belongs to Endo. If we’re being honest.”

Sakura would have liked to protest. Nothing belonged to Endo. Not a single part of Makochi, nor anything else, not even any spot on this planet, except perhaps this flat, which more likely belonged to this Chika. The truth was much simpler: behind this legend was a guy who had nothing in his hands but the people who were stupid enough to fall for him. And it would probably stay that way unless he somehow managed to bring this place back to its origins.

As long as Umemiya protected the area around Furin and somehow kept the rest friendly, there was probably nothing to worry about. He was a security that could be relied upon, and not for a single second did Haruka doubt that the leader of Bofurin was on par with someone like Endo.

Clenching his teeth, Sakura lowered his gaze to the footwell of the car. That certainty, that damn assurance that Umemiya would face Endo whenever necessary, pushed this moment further out of focus. He knew that he was going too far, that he shouldn’t be here, that he was disappointing Suo and Nirei, that he was ridiculing the whole of Bofurin and, above all, betraying the man whose position he wanted to take at some point. He trampled this position with his feet. Even though he liked being alone, he liked helping others. Perhaps too much. Perhaps in a way that harmed himself.

Whether it was Kotoha, Nirei, or the Roppo-Ichiza and thus Shizuka – these moments gave him violence and something softer underneath. A feeling of rightness. If he fought, then at least for the good things. For everything he could defend with his head held high, even with words.

This wasn’t one of those moments. This crime that stood before them would haunt him for a lifetime, and he would accept it with his head down.

“They’re leaving!” Renji’s cheerful exclamation forced Haruka to raise his eyes. The car was just pulling out of the storehouse, then disappearing into the night. Their time had come.

Wanijima had already got out and hurried to the boot. Sakura did the same, closely followed by Kaga, who almost seemed to be looking forward to setting this fire. Sakura tried to push away the thought that crept up the back of his neck as he grabbed two petrol cans. Together with the other two – also heavily laden – he set off in the direction of KEEL’s shelter. They could have taken the car, sure, but if there was anyone else there, they would only raise the alarm with a car. It was easier to disappear unnoticed on foot. Especially when it was so dark.

“Ah, that reminds me...” Yugo stopped abruptly, ripped his jacket off his shoulders and held it out to Sakura. “You’re pretty striking with your hair and eyes. I bet you don’t want to be recognised if anyone sees us. It doesn’t matter with Kaga and me. We look like every other person out here, and if they associate us with Endo, they won’t dare raise a hand against us anyway. Besides, I’ve got Shishitoren behind me in case of emergency. But you’re ... not one of us. And you look unique. So... Better safe than sorry.”

Carefully, Haruka put down the petrol to take the jacket. It smelt of smoke, of someone else, of a life that wasn’t his own, but aside from that, it provided the comfort he needed to get through all of this. It was a little too big, too wide at the shoulders, and he immediately pulled the hood over his head. That way he could be someone else. He could disappear under the fabric, into a version of himself that betrayed no principles and broke no loyalties. He was a stranger who picked up the petrol cans again and followed the others to the storehouse, breathing more heavily step by step.

The wide gate had been closed. Only a small door at the side allowed entry. Had they been smarter, they probably would have made a plan to make sure they didn’t run into too many KEEL members. But Yugo didn’t even get to make a suggestion before Kaga yanked open the door and walked in.

They had no choice but to follow him. And no sooner had they crossed the threshold than they were caught not only by the stale air of the hall but also by the sight of dozens of wooden crates, stacked randomly as if they were being watched from there. Six KEEL members stood between them.

Haruka didn’t recognise any of them. He had seen so many faces of this troupe back then that it was almost scary not to recognise any of them. These six were strangers.

“That’s what you get for just barging in somewhere. Great,” Wanijima groaned. “I’ll leave the fighting to you and take care of the preparations.”

It was a cue Sakura couldn’t quite take, while Renji dropped the canisters and rushed towards his opponents. He himself was a little more careful with the flammable liquid before following.

This wasn’t a fight he needed. It wasn’t even one he really wanted. Still, he lifted off the ground as one of KEEL’s lunged out and tried to punch him in the face. Before he could even think, Sakura grabbed the guy’s arm, swung up on it and kicked him full force in the nose. The crack that followed was unpleasant but strangely satisfying at the same time. As his opponent’s body swayed, Sakura yanked his arm further towards him with force, pressing the sole of his shoe harder into his face and toppling with him onto the concrete.

The impact was hard enough to make his eyes roll back. A flawless manoeuvre, but one that didn’t make Haruka’s heart beat faster for a moment.

Instead, he glanced at Kaga, who stretched his arms out to either side like a bulldozer and punched two guys in the jaw. The momentum not only swept them off their feet, it also smashed both bodies mercilessly onto the concrete floor. It was powerful. It was terrifying. It was the wrong moment to see something so impressive. Because Sakura didn’t notice how one of the opponents charged towards him with an iron bar, roaring. It was only at the last moment, when he swung out with a yell, that Sakura realised the change and turned – at the wrong time. The bar crashed mercilessly against his skull.

His vision tore apart. The ground swayed. Noises sounded like water. Heat trickled down his temple, his forehead, dripped over his nose. When he stuck out his tongue, he tasted blood. Warm and familiar. A part of him just wanted to give in. He wanted to close his eyes, wait until KEEL itself went up in smoke, and he could finally go home.

No one here would show any mercy to him. No one here was fighting for anything honourable. Everyone was lashing out just to snatch a piece of safety for themselves. Childish. Idiotic. Pathetic. And he was part of it.

But it no longer mattered.

With his tunnel vision focused on his opponent, everything else faded into the background. When his opponent swung the iron bar again, Sakura intercepted it with one hand. He struck the guy in the face with the other. The grip on the metal loosened, the bar clattered to the floor, and in the silence after the impact, Sakura could only hear his own breathing. Immediately afterwards, he grabbed the guy by the collar, pulled him towards him and drove his knee into his stomach at the same moment. The opponent collapsed, choking, but Sakura still grabbed his head, held it firmly, stabilised it like something fragile and then smashed his knee into the guy’s face. The boy toppled backwards, just like that.

And there it was, that sting in his chest. It felt too good. Too right. Too light.

Had Kanji felt that too?

The awareness of it hit Sakura like cold water. He turned away as if he had burnt himself. But he didn’t have time to breathe. The remaining two had pounced on Kaga, and while he was getting on quite well with them, Sakura just couldn’t stay out of it.

Two jumps and he was with them. He grabbed the first by the collar, yanked him back and dropped him, only to deliver a precise kick to his ribs. Gasping, the guy staggered to the side, unable to fight back. But Sakura was ready for the next blow, ready for that rush that demanded more. Until the boy wobbled back, panting, hands raised, much like Akihiko sometimes did – Sakura couldn’t help but hesitate.

The blow that was supposed to knock him out was too soft. Sakura’s fist dug into the pit of his opponent’s stomach, causing him to fall to his knees, whimpering. With his eyes fixed on the boy, the fog in Haruka’s skull cleared. This guy there, his shoulders shaking and his arms raised, who probably couldn’t fight any more than Nirei could, didn’t look any older than he was. Fifteen. Maybe even only fourteen.

What were they doing anyway?

What was he doing here?

The question became redundant when Kaga appeared out of nowhere and literally crushed the boy’s face with his fist. He crashed backwards to the ground, and Sakura was at a loss for words. There was nothing he could have said. Not when he was in this situation because he needed the money. He was only left to wonder how much more disgusting he could get.

“Okay, out with them, or we’ll turn into murderers, and I guess Endo will kill us then.” Behind them, Yugo clapped his hands as if this was some tedious routine job. “Hurry up before someone else comes and stops us.”

“You could help, mate,” Renji grumbled back.

“I’ve got some petrol to spill. Please and thank you.”

At least, Sakura thought bitterly, these two still had enough sense left to recognise the line they shouldn’t cross. A ridiculously thin line, yes, but one that they at least were aware of. Had they gone one step further, Sakura would probably have lashed out at the wrong people, simply because he didn’t know what to do with all the pressure in his head. One more spark and he would grab Kaga or Yugo by the collar and ram his fist into their faces until everything that was bothering him melted into something ugly and pointless. And yet not a single one of his worries would disappear.

He briefly tapped the spot on his forehead where the heat was throbbing. The blood was already sticky. Still, he would have to treat this wound, and he already knew that he would be questioned. Especially by Suo. He would press and press and press until Sakura had stammered out some halfway useful lie. And he would tell it, knowing full well that every lie sowed new problems. But maybe it would finally end after that.

With difficulty, he dragged three of the boys out, while Kaga took the other three. Afterwards, they searched the area in silence, but the quiet outweighed anything they found. No other KEEL members. Only bad smells. Only boxes. All that drove them back to the entrance, where Yugo wordlessly pulled a packet of matches from his pocket. It was a threat. One that would change into fact as soon as he lit the match and tossed the small stick into the warehouse.

The petrol caught fire immediately.

Flames licked up the wooden crates, while smoke rose upwards and the stench of the canisters merged with that of the tobacco. Perhaps drugs or something equally worthless was burning underneath, but none of that mattered. No one would save anything from this fire. And that was his fault, his merit, his abysmally shitty good deed.

He couldn’t say it felt good or that any breath didn’t burn miserably in his lungs. The smoke, though it didn’t reach him, stung his eyes, brought tears to them, and robbed him of some of the hope he’d grasped after coming to Makochi.

This place offered no change, only illusions. It was another prison, wrapped in facades of family and loyalty, while chaos reigned in the background. It was like that everywhere. You either fitted in with the society that had formed somewhere, or you went against it and joined the good-for-nothings. A bunch of people who couldn’t get anything together and deluded themselves into thinking they were strong. And he fitted in, frighteningly well in fact. Because instead of saying “no”, instead of showing backbone, he had given in like a fucking idiot. The worst thing about it wasn’t even that he knew it, but that he admitted to himself that he would have acted the same way in any other constellation, as long as the result promised him a new suit of armour. A new way to hide.

A new chest binder to hold his body together. And a new layer of cowardice that crushed his soul.

The heat on his body kept him trapped in this reality like a shackle. He thought he could feel the flames tugging at his hair like an invisible breeze, as if they were trying to pull him into the blaze. His cheeks were glowing, his whole face was burning, and the tip of his nose was threatening to melt.

Everything inside him was screaming to break free from this place, to run away, to tear himself out of this moment. But his legs remained rooted to the spot. Something held him there. Perhaps the guilt, perhaps the realisation that he would never shake off this moment again.

When he finally turned around, a quick click snapped him out of his daze. Yugo held up his mobile phone and snapped a photo without a second thought, as if this was just a twisted souvenir.

“Wha–” Sakura’s mouth opened, but Wanijima beat him to it.

“Little proof picture for Endo. He doesn’t like it when you just say you’ve done something.” He briefly showed Haruka the picture. He saw the storehouse with the flames flickering out of the door, the smoke rising and himself in front of it – a boy in a black hood with a facial expression that matched the scene far too well. As if the fire had started inside him and only accidentally found its way out. Like a madman in a painting that you couldn’t get off the wall no matter how many times you went over it.

Along the way, the clouds of smoke slowly rose into the sky, squeezing out of every crack and opening they could find and drawing pictures in the night. It was probably just an illusion, but it mesmerised Sakura and the others. Even as the first sirens cut through the night in the distance, he barely managed to avert his gaze.

“We should leave,” Kaga finally broke the silence. “After all, we don’t want to be discovered, do we?”

“Not with the conscience that Endo will give us hell,” Yugo agreed, and Haruka just let it happen.

He fell into another endless silence as they hurried back to the car, jumped in and drove off. The fire, the deed, and his pride were left behind to be put out by the firefighters.

》CHERRY BLOSSOM《

He would have preferred to be dumped somewhere on the side of the road, far away from anything that burnt, smelt or felt like the fire he wanted to leave behind. Just disappear, forget, pretend nothing had happened. But the money was still not in his hands, and if he wanted payment, he had to cross the threshold of the door that had just opened for him and the other two.

Yugo had taken them to Endo’s flat, who was now leaning in the doorway, smiling and jutting his chin. His eyes were on Haruka, almost as if he wanted to ask a thousand things that were none of his business. Instead, after a minute, he pushed himself away and let them in.

Nothing had changed since his last visit – except for the guy sitting in an armchair, flicking through a fashion magazine. He neither raised his eyes nor said anything. His long, somewhat wild red and yellow hair seemed to shield him from the world, while his casual demeanour didn’t match the rest of the tension in the room.

“I saw the picture,” Endo snapped him out of his observation. He was still facing them while they had unconsciously lined up. “Seems to have been a decent bonfire.”

“It went better than expected,” Wanijima replied with a thin smile.

“That’s what I thought. I’ll transfer you the same as always. And Kaga ... I’ll deduct half of it.”

Haruka immediately glanced at the short-haired guy, whose eyes were growing round as a ball. Only a thin “Why?” left his lips.

“Because you’re probably going to sell the tobacco you took, right?” Crossing his arms in front of his chest, Endo tilted his head. “You’re not very clever if you think you can hide that from me by shoving it in the back of your waistband and pretending the loose fabric can hide anything.”

Wordlessly, Renji opened his mouth. Then he shook his head before pulling out two packets of tobacco – not much bigger than two slightly too large envelopes. He had probably taken them when they had been looking for other members of KEEL in the warehouse.

“I ... took them for ... you,” he stammered. “Certainly make good money.”

“Ah, how thoughtful.” Endo’s smile seemed to grow wider by the second. He moved closer to Kaga, ready to receive the gift.

It could have been so simple.

It just shouldn’t have been a lie.

Sakura sensed that underlying vibration in Yamato’s voice. He felt the tightness, the unease, the heaviness of a moment when the victim of his meanness was pushed against the wall. He had experienced it himself once before, when the walls had closed in on him and he had been unable to run away.

It was no different here when he took the tobacco, thanking Renji excessively – and Renji barely saw the violent kick in the pit of his stomach coming. Before they knew it, he crashed onto his back five steps before doubling over.

Endo carelessly threw the tobacco packets after him as if they were worthless rubbish. “I remember telling you to burn KEEL’s stuff,” he continued as he took a step towards Kaga. “I said burn it all down.” Another step. “So how the hell is it that you have two packs of tobacco on you when nothing, nothing at all, should be left?”

Before Renji could answer, Yamato kicked him in the face. Blood splattered, and a tooth clattered onto the wood next to it. Everything in Sakura wanted to intervene, wanted to end this punishment and make sure that this night finally ended. What’s more, even though he barely knew them, neither of them looked as if they deserved to be treated like this. Probably no human did, and yet he couldn’t lift a finger when Endo grabbed Kaga by the collar and smashed his fist into his face.

The last time he had stood around so uselessly was in middle school, in his first year. Back then, he hadn’t known how to deal with moments like this, when the world suddenly became too loud, too sharp and too dangerous. Now it was the same. The same paralysing rigidity, the same dizzying uncertainty, the same bitter helplessness that ate into his bones. It turned his stomach. A feeling that swallowed him up while Renji gasped and retched – with a broken nose and swollen lips from which no clear sound could emerge, only the muffled gasps of someone who hardly knew what to do with his pain.

Endo raised his fist again and again, smashing it into this face that, between blood and tears, expressed nothing but panic. Eyes wide open, hands raised, knees trembling – it looked like the moment just before a disaster that could no longer be stopped. But this was no disaster. Not a mistake. It was pure, deliberate violence. An act of violence that no-one could oppose.

He didn’t want to be one of those people.

Far too often, Sakura had seen people simply stand still, silent and motionless, while something cruel happened before their eyes. An entire system, an entire society, that had become fixated on averting its gaze as if doing nothing was a virtue. It was pathological, almost ritualised, and that was exactly what he had fled from. He hadn’t come to Makochi for that. He hadn’t ended up in this godless place because he longed for the same images that he could see in the rest of Japan.

That was the only reason he rebelled against his stiff body. His hand shot out, his fingers clutched Endo’s wrist, and in the middle of this one-sided brawl, silence descended. All of a sudden, power was in his hands. Power that he wanted to wield just as cool as ever.

“Stop that, or you’ll go too far.” His voice trembled slightly but still had the strength he had always carried around with him. In those seconds, even without the chest binder, he could be the Sakura he wanted to be.

Endo gave him a sideways glance. The smirk on his lips wasn’t even mocking; it was worse. It was indifferent, as if Sakura’s intervention hadn’t surprised him, merely amused him. And yet he relaxed, as if this was all a game that he could stop at any time. Instead of attacking again, he straightened up, moved closer to Haruka and put an arm around his shoulders. It was a strange feeling that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

“If our dearest Sakura asks for it, then you’ll get away with it, I suppose, Kaga.” Yamato’s voice was like a singsong, mutating into a menacing growl as he leaned heavier on Sakura’s shoulders and leaned forward. “I’ll kill you next time, though. You can be sure of that.”

Renji couldn’t get a word out. It seemed as if he was already unable to fight the swelling on his face. But he didn’t look that bad yet. Only the bloody nose, the chapped lips and the bruise under his right eye, together with the frantic expression on his features, conveyed that it must be fear that was paralysing him. Fear that Sakura knew only too well.

But he could do no more, couldn’t rebuke Endo. He clung to his body, pressed against it like a threat with skin and warmth, and nothing about this closeness allowed Sakura to judge what would come next. He was left with nothing but awareness, which slowly crumbled as Yamato reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a bundle of money to place in Haruka’s hands.

“As promised. Fifty thousand yen, which you can use to conveniently solve your little problem.” It was absurd how smoothly Endo went back to business, as if the brawl before had just been a trivial incident, an annoying obstacle that he had cleared out of the way. In his world, Kaga’s rebuke must have been just a side task. Something of no further significance.

It made Haruka’s throat tight. The fact that Endo switched so effortlessly between violence and professionalism only showed how little importance people had for him. As long as everything went as he imagined, they were tools to him. Consumable. Replaceable. Hardly worth the effort of forgiving their missteps.

“Now get out of here before Sakura’s request loses its effect.” With a wave of his hand, Yamato finally broke away from Haruka. He took a few steps towards the living room table, from which he took an open can filled with an energy drink and emptied it in one go. Yugo and Renji used this one instance to disappear without a trace – Sakura couldn’t even follow them.

Just as he was about to leave himself, however, Endo approached him again. The tension between them just wouldn’t fade. “How did it feel?”

Gritting his teeth, Sakura turned to Endo. His eyes fixed on the guy there at the table, the presumably expensive clothes and the smug grin he would have preferred to wipe off his features. Preferably with a fist.

“Did you have fun? Did you get to feel how fulfilling it is to have the upper hand?”

“It sucked,” Haruka replied firmly. “I didn’t want to do it. When the time came, I wanted to leave. There was nothing fulfilling about it.”

“Just as unfulfilling as your condition?” Endo remained unfazed. “I’m sure small tasks like that are something you can get used to. After all, you’ve got used to your game of hide and seek as well.”

“This is something completely different.”

“Is it?”

For a second, Sakura bit his tongue. He couldn’t let that asshole provoke him, or it would end in a situation similar to the last time his chest binder had been ruined. So he forced himself to remain calm, which wasn’t possible, while Endo strolled calmly to the wardrobe and rummaged around in it.

Sakura watched his opponent’s every move. To let Endo out of sight for even a second was dangerous. No one could tell what this madman was planning next.

But to his surprise, he wasn’t reaching for something that would only mean more suffering for Sakura. Instead, it was first aid, completely conventional. It was so absurd, so out of place, that Sakura couldn’t move. Yamato, meanwhile, stepped up to him, taking care of the wound on his head and dabbing it with alcohol as if this moment between them was a ridiculous everyday scene. The pain shot through his skull like a flame and confirmed to him that it wasn’t just some nightmare but bitterly serious.

Then Endo’s fingers touched his skin. A minimally warm, alien touch that felt like something crawling deep under his skin. Sakura felt nauseous. Bile burnt up his throat as a band-aid was pressed to his forehead, large enough to cover the injury but not big enough to hide the humiliation behind it. His hands clenched into fists. Coming into contact with this black-haired devil was the epitome of harmful. Whenever he came into contact with Endo, it ended in some kind of loss.

He didn’t want to lose anything again.

And the seething fear, so well tucked away under thousands of layers of false security, spilt over. He raised his arms in a flash, pushed Endo two steps away from him and took a stance. If necessary, he would fight. His shoulders were tense, his legs ready to spring, and his fists so tight they hurt. This time he wouldn’t go down without a fight.

“Why do you even do these things?” It was probably a stupid question. After all, Endo had already proven in Keisei Street that he took pleasure in controlling circumstances. But somewhere inside Sakura, a desperate part of him hoped for an answer that would confirm that Endo wasn’t untouchable. That he had flaws. Weaknesses. Something that made him realise that he could bring Yamato to his knees whenever he pleased. Not because he was stronger, but because he was at least halfway committed to protecting Makochi.

Probably even more than halfway.

“Excitement,” Endo replied. The smile on his lips betrayed nothing but amusement. “Life is so damn monotonous and boring... Hardships at every turn, rules, and a routine that doesn’t allow for any real adventure unless you tell yourself some fantasy. Don’t you think that’s just boring too? Exercising control and fighting for a freedom that others can’t have is much more tempting.”

Haruka didn’t understand much of what Yamato was saying. Perhaps because freedom was a word that meant something different to everyone. What he did realise, however, was that he disagreed with Endo. “The way you treat others doesn’t have much to do with freedom. You just enjoy stepping on others.”

“Like you enjoy wallowing in your game of hide and seek, huh? Sakura-chan.” Grinning, Endo jutted his chin. “You and your life ... you’re a bit of a tragedy, aren’t you? Always trying to fit into an image you don’t belong in.” He tilted his head. “You have no idea what freedom even is, do you?”