Chapter Text
Fuyuhiko arrived at the music venue in which a celebration of his own survival was happening. Somehow, people were surprised he came, and nobody really talked to him other than Hajime for a couple minutes. He made all this effort to come to the party with a healing wound and they weren’t even really celebrating for him. But Fuyuhiko didn’t care that much; the emptiness he felt could simply be pushed away for the time being.
Everyone around him was talking, having fun and doing their own thing – but Fuyuhiko, funnily enough, was alone with nobody to distract him from his thoughts and physical pain. Upon realizing this, he looked around the room to see if anyone else was in the same situation. There was one person, possibly even lonelier than himself: Nekomaru.
-It was strange, usually Akane was with him. The more Fuyuhiko thought about it, he started to feel inclined to talk to Nekomaru and find out why he was alone – and his curiosity grew enough, eventually, that he was able to approach him.
“Hey, nekomaru. Shouldn’t you likee, be with Akane or something? I dont usually see you on your own.” As he said that and looked at the other, he noticed that Nekomaru seemed less energetic than usual, on top of his isolation.
Nekomaru visibly snapped into reality. It didnt look like he heard what Fuyuhiko said, either. “Kuzuryu?! You’re already out of hospital! How's your stomach, man?”
Fuyuhiko stood there frozen for a few moments, wondering how that answered his question in any way.
“I..?” He paused- and continued with a sigh. "I'm fine.” he decided to let it go. It was hard enough talking to the ultimate team manager, a title far less entrenched than the ultimate yakuza, yet the embodiment of it being much stronger than himself.
Nekomaru spoke, needlessly, again.
“It seems impossible, but i believe in you, you’re the ultimate yakuza! You'll be all healed in a flash, wont ya?”
He was smiling, bright as ever. His true emotions could’ve been left alone without acknowledgement, without a fuss, but Fuyuhiko knew better. He knew he had to do something, somehow, because if he had one take away from Peko and Mahiru’s death, it was to not be fucking ignorant.
As if right on cue, Ibuki started playing another particularly awful song.
“Agh, my ears... Maybe we should go take a walk. What do you think?”
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