Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Even if the world was nothing but a mess, he had never twisted his own sense of justice to match it.

In a way, that had been a form of self-preservation.

Even when his own worth was diminished by others, he never tried to take it back from someone else. And if he saw someone about to have something taken from them, he would step in—without hesitation—to protect them.

Even if it meant making his own situation worse.

Because he had always believed that doing something he couldn’t consider right was worse than dying.

That belief—no, that prayer—was the bare minimum he needed to protect his own heart.

That was probably why—

When he walked down a dark street so unsafe that not a single soul lingered there, and inevitably heard the sounds of trouble, his feet had already started moving on their own.

The alley was narrow and suffocating, thick with stale, humid air.
A black Alphard sat parked near the entrance.
Four or five men in suits stepped out, their movements unhurried as they made their way deeper inside. They walked like they already knew there was no way out ahead.
Like hunters closing in.
From his place in the shadows, just watching them was enough to make his skin prickle.

“W-Wait… please…!”

A man’s voice echoed from the far end of the alley.
The suited men didn’t slow down.

“It’s a misunderstanding! Please—have mercy!”


“A misunderstanding? You stole from the family and ran. That’s a fact.”
“I had my reasons—!”
“Oh yeah? So having a reason makes it okay to break the family rules?”

A dull crack split the air—something hard hitting concrete. He edged forward just enough to see. The man was pinned to the ground, a shoe grinding into his head as he struggled wildly beneath it. Even now, he was trying to speak, desperate for someone to be heard.

“I’m telling you—I was set up—!”
“Doesn’t matter. You betrayed the family, stole the money, and ran. After everything the underboss did for you… you’ve got some nerve.”

The man collapsed in on himself, curling tight as kicks rained down. Laughter followed—low, ugly, amused. He couldn’t stand anymore. Couldn’t even defend himself properly.

Still, he dragged himself across the pavement, inch by inch, trying to escape. His ragged breaths scraped against their laughter.

“Go ahead. Run. Just don’t expect your daughter to be safe.”

The man froze.

“Feel bad for the kid. Born to a father like you.”

Something in him broke. A quiet, broken sob slipped out.

And that was enough.

By the time he realized what he was doing, he had already stepped into the alley.

“Hey.”

The word came out low, edged with something close to a growl.

“Huh? Who the hell are you?”

All eyes turned to him at once. He kept his hood low, face hidden, watching them from beneath the fall of his hair.

Five men. All facing him.

Empty hands—but the ones in the back were already reaching inside their jackets.
Weapons.
Meaning all of them were likely armed.

He slipped a hand into his hoodie pocket. Their attention snapped to it immediately. They thought he was reaching for something dangerous.

The moment their focus—and their intent—narrowed to that single point, he moved.
One step forward.

He swung his arm and threw what he’d taken from his pocket straight into their midst.
A small rectangular shape spun through the air.

Their eyes followed it on instinct.
And by the time they realized it wasn’t a weapon—
just a phone—
the two men at the front were already down.

“What the—!?”
“What just happened—!?”

The nearest man froze.
Too tense. Too slow.
He dropped low, slipping out of sight, then came up behind him and drove a kick into a vital spot.
The man crumpled.

Using his falling body as cover, he closed the distance to the one behind him—just as the man drew a weapon.
He hesitated.
Couldn’t risk hitting his own ally. That was enough.

A sharp strike to the face. Then he leveraged the first man’s weight, sending both of them crashing to the ground.

One left.
At the very end of the alley, the last man stood with a knife.

Unlike the others, he didn’t panic. Watching his allies go down in seconds had only sharpened his focus.
Experienced.
He lunged in, low and fast. The blade flashed.
He stepped inside the swing.
A strike to the solar plexus. A kick to the supporting leg.
The man went down hard.
He locked him in place, twisted the knife free, and tossed it aside into a nearby pile of trash.

Silence settled over the alley.
Where there had been laughter and pleading moments ago, there were only groans now.

The man they had been hunting was gone.
Good. That meant he’d made it out.
That had been the point.

He exhaled and turned back the way he came.
First—his phone.
He picked up the cracked device from the ground, turning it over briefly in his hand.
Then he pivoted to leave.
—and felt it.
Something hard pressed against his back.

A presence. Too close.
His eyes widened.

He tried to move—
but he was already too late.

He turned, just enough to meet the man’s gaze behind him.
Then—
pain.
A violent surge shot through his spine.

His body gave out instantly, dropping him to his knees.
Another shock followed, stronger this time, tearing the last of his strength away.

He collapsed onto the cold pavement.
Through his fading vision, he caught sight of a white sedan.
More men stepped out, one after another.
There had been more of them.
He hadn’t noticed.

A man holding a stun gun looked down at him.
His hood was yanked back.
Cold metal pressed against his neck.
A sharp crack filled the air—
and everything went dark.

“Wake up!”

His consciousness surged back all at once.
Cold.
For a split second, it felt like he’d been doused in ice water—and when his eyes snapped open, he realized he actually had been. Droplets slid down his skin, and every small movement made the soaked fabric cling coldly against his body. Water seeped into the corner of his eye, stinging as it spread.

He shut his eyes tightly, forcing a slow breath in, then out—steadying himself, sorting through the situation.

When he opened them again, a pale expanse spread quietly before him.
As his blurred vision sharpened, he saw it clearly—smooth, rounded white stones, carefully laid out beneath him. They gleamed faintly, spotless, as if meticulously maintained.

He was lying on them.
He tried to move, but his arms were bound behind his back. The numbness hadn’t fully left his body yet, and even with what little movement he had, he could barely turn his head.
Still, it was enough.

A large garden—part of a traditional Japanese house.
A tiled gate stood behind the men, and beyond it, the low, sprawling silhouette of the building stretched into the darkness. The air was still, heavy with a quiet, almost oppressive sense of order.

And he wasn’t alone.
Men in suits surrounded him.
Among them—he spotted the one who had used the stun gun.
No doubt about it. They were the same men from before.

Even in his half-awake state, he understood one thing clearly:
There was no escaping this.

“I told you to bring him in. This isn’t him.”
“Wakagashira— the underboss!”

A man stepped through the tiled gate, walking toward them at an unhurried pace.
He was bald. Even at night, he wore black sunglasses.
They kept slipping down his nose, and he pushed them back up each time with a small, impatient motion. Something about the roundness of his head reminded him of the white stones beneath him.

“Catching someone whose face and location you already know?” the wakagashira said. “Even a kid could do that. So how exactly do you screw it up and let him get away?”
“We had him. But we got interrupted.”

A hand grabbed his collar and forced his face down into the gravel.
The pressure ground his cheek into the stones. He tensed, pushing back with what strength he had, and lifted his gaze—fixing it on the man in front of him.
Their eyes met.
—or at least, it felt that way. Behind the sunglasses, he couldn’t tell where the man was actually looking.

“It was him,” one of the men said. “This kid. He went berserk—took down all five we borrowed from Endo-san. That’s how the target got away.”

The wakagashira’s shoulder twitched.
Endo.
A name he hadn’t heard before. But the reaction was immediate.

“Name.”

Before he could process it—
pain.
A sharp blow struck his cheek.
The wakagashira had kicked him.
Once. Twice. Again.
Blood spilled from his face, staining his clothes.

“Na—me.”

The man smiled as he spoke, though it was clear he had no intention of waiting for an answer.
He endured it in silence.
No groan. No sound.
The wakagashira crouched, bringing his face close.
The sunglasses slipped again, revealing a glimpse of the eyes behind them—wide, bulging, sizing him up.

“Ugly face,” he muttered. “Lick my shoe and I might let you off.”

Their eyes met.
The man’s gaze was the same as someone looking at trash left on the roadside.
The tip of his polished shoe pressed into his cheek, grinding slowly.
He said nothing.
Ignored the laughter.
Endured it.

Irritated, the wakagashira kicked his head hard.
A sharp impact split across his temple, blood trailing down his face.
He steadied himself—just barely—and lifted his gaze again.

Then, without hesitation—
he spat.
Blood and saliva splattered across the man’s shoe.
The air shifted.
He felt it—the tension snapping tight around them.
The wakagashira’s expression darkened, color rising rapidly in his face.

“Want to die!?”

His voice tore through the stillness of the garden.
His face burned red—no, darker than that. Brick-colored. Veins pulsed along his temple.
The kicks came again.
Relentless.
With his hands bound, all he could do was curl inward and endure.
A sharp ringing filled his ears as a blow grazed past.

Then—
a misstep.
The wakagashira’s foot caught on his clothing.
Something slipped from his pocket.
His wallet.
One of the men picked it up, pulling out an ID.

“Name’s Sakura Haruka. Age… twenty.”
“Twenty?” the wakagashira muttered. “Doesn’t look it.”

He walked over, took the ID between two fingers, and examined the photo closely.

“Still… weird look you’ve got. Half black, half white—what are you, a cat?”

Sakura’s shoulder twitched.
Just slightly.
But the wakagashira saw it.

“Half of you’s missing color,” he went on. “Looks defective.”

He tossed the ID back and stepped closer, gravel crunching underfoot.
Then he crouched again, leaning in close to Sakura’s ear.

“Bet your mother regrets having you.”

The whisper clung, damp and close.
Sakura inhaled.
Deep.
Then moved.
Using what little leverage he had, he drove his leg upward—
his foot slammed into the man’s face.
The wakagashira was thrown backward, sunglasses flying off and skidding across the gravel.
Hands grabbed Sakura, forcing him back down.
Still, he shouted—raw, unfiltered.

“Those sunglasses don’t suit you at all. Looks like they broke. You should get a new pair.”

The wakagashira sat there for a moment, stunned.
Then his face darkened again.
He stood, reaching into his jacket—
and drew a short blade.

“I’ll kill you…!”

The blade caught the light as he moved in.
Sakura drew a breath.
He knew.
If nothing changed, he would die here.
Still—
he had no intention of going quietly.
He braced his legs—
and then—

“Waka—what are you doing?”

A lazy voice cut through the night.
The wakagashira froze mid-motion.
The anger drained from his face, slowly, unwillingly.

“…damn good ears,” he muttered under his breath.
The newcomer approached at an easy pace, stepping through the gate into the lantern-lit garden.
Taller. Younger. Sleeves rolled up, revealing dark tattoos along his arms.

“So,” the man said lightly, glancing down at Sakura, “who’s this beat-up mess?”
“…Some brat who broke in,” the wakagashira replied. “Got violent. Seems like he’s got a death wish.”

Sakura quietly shifted his gaze between the two. Something didn’t add up.
He hadn’t broken in. He’d been brought here.
It sounded like the truth was being hidden.

“Oh wow,” the man said, laughing as he picked up the broken sunglasses. “Your expensive shades are wrecked. You should get a new pair.”

He tried to bend them back into shape—
too hard.
The frame snapped. He handed them back.
The wakagashira took them and shoved them into his pocket, his hand trembling slightly with restrained anger.
He exhaled, tightening his grip on the blade, and stepped forward again—
but a hand stopped him.

“Wait.”

Sharp eyes settled on Sakura.

“This one,” the man said, pointing at him, a grin spreading across his face, “mind if I take him?”
Silence fell between them.

The man kept smiling.
The wakagashira didn’t.

“No,” he said. “I kill him here. Took five men just to bring him in. He made a fool of us. I’m not letting that slide.”
“Huh?” the man tilted his head. “Those five… the ones I lent you? Then the guys he took down—those were mine, weren’t they?” the man said. “If that’s the case, I’ve got the right to decide what happens to him.”
“…Watch your tone, kid.”
“Gahah.” A hollow laugh. “My sincerest apologies for any offense, Wakagashira.”

Not a trace of sincerity.
The flippant voice echoed through the quiet garden.

A brief silence followed—just enough for the wakagashira to swallow his irritation. Then his cold gaze pierced Sakura—
and slipped away.

“Do what you want.”

With that, he turned and walked back into the house.
The men who had surrounded Sakura followed after him, disappearing inside one by one.

Only two remained.

A cold breeze passed between them.
Sakura let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his body slowly loosening.
The suffocating hostility that had been pressing into his skin was gone.
All that remained was the curious gaze of the man called Endo.

“You alive?”

Endo walked over and crouched beside him, lightly poking his cheek with a finger.
Once. Twice.
Sakura turned his face away, as if to escape the annoyance.

“…Takes more than this to kill me.”
“Oh? You sound pretty lively.”

Endo grinned lazily, then grabbed Sakura and rolled him over.
Face-down.
His hands moved to the rope binding Sakura’s wrists, fingers tracing along it as if searching for the knot.
Sakura stayed still, thinking he might untie it—
but the movement stopped.

“…Hey,” Sakura said quietly. “Why’d you stop?”
“Because,” Endo said lightly, “the second I take this off, you’re gonna bolt, right? Wouldn’t recommend it. You won’t die easy.”
“…”
“What, did I hit the mark? You were seriously planning to run? You’re way too easy to read.”
“Shut up!”

Sakura struggled, thrashing against the ground—but with his hands bound and his body pinned face-down, nothing changed.

“Ugh—!”

Suddenly, weight pressed down on his back, forcing a strained sound out of him.
Endo had sat down on him.

“Listen,” Endo said casually, shifting his weight slightly. “That bald guy they called wakagashira. Once he decides something, he doesn’t bend. Ever.”

Sakura kicked back blindly, his legs thrashing, heels striking against Endo’s back.
It did nothing.
Only the sound of gravel scraping echoed beneath them.

“And you,” Endo went on, unconcerned, “picked a fight with someone like that. Got him pissed enough to say he’d kill you.”

Sakura kept struggling—
until the movement suddenly stopped.
Endo’s hand had slid to the back of his neck.
Cold fingers brushed his skin.
Sakura flinched.
A sharp, unmistakable killing intent seeped from the man, slowly wrapping around him.
Endo’s finger traced the line of his spine, drifting lower—slow, deliberate—toward his heart.

“You’re mine now,” Endo said. “As long as you’re under me, waka won’t touch you so easily.”
He paused.

“But the second you run,” he went on, his voice dropping, “the moment you’re not mine anymore… he’ll come for you.”

A brief beat.

“Without fail.”

Endo leaned in, planting a hand beside Sakura’s head, his breath brushing his ear.

“So—wanna die here?”

Two light taps against his spine.
Precise. Intentional.
Like marking the exact place to break him.
There was no mistaking it. His life wasn’t his anymore.

This was the result of his own choices. He had followed his sense of right and wrong. He didn’t regret saving that man.

And if Endo hadn’t stepped in, there was no doubt—the wakagashira would have crushed him without hesitation.

He didn’t want to die here.
But if he wanted to live, he had to accept it. That this man had spared him.
That from here on, his life would continue on this man’s terms.

“…Like hell I’m dying.”
“Oh? Good answer.”

Endo’s tone turned light again, almost amused.

Seeing Sakura go still, he loosened the rope at his wrists and pulled him upright.
Pins and needles prickled through Sakura’s hands as feeling slowly returned.
His vision swam, and he stayed where he was, waiting for it to settle.

After a moment, Endo reached down and took his wrist.
He must have noticed the marks.
Tattooed fingers brushed over the reddened skin, gentle and almost absentminded.
Sakura’s eyes widened.

“Hope that heals quick.”
“…Yeah.”

Endo glanced him over.

“You’re soaked. And filthy. Let’s fix that.”

He stood, brushing off his suit.
Up close, Sakura finally noticed—it was expensive.
Endo held out a hand.

“Think you can stand?”

Sakura stared at it, then looked away. He didn’t need help. He pushed himself up—and nearly failed. His hands were still numb, his legs barely holding him.

Endo let out a quiet laugh.

“Seriously…”

He stepped in, caught him around the torso, and lifted him clean off the ground, slinging him over his shoulder.
Sakura struggled, but couldn’t break free.

Gradually, he went still.

Carried awkwardly over his shoulder, Sakura crossed the threshold and entered the house for the first time.

The house Endo led him into was massive—a traditional Japanese residence on a scale Sakura had never seen before.

They passed through an entryway so wide he couldn’t even begin to guess how many pairs of shoes it could hold. Beyond it stretched a long corridor, polished to a flawless shine, not a speck of dust in sight.

Large vases and carefully arranged plants stood at the corners. Scrolls hung along the walls.

All of them depicted the moon.

Sakura found himself thinking, idly, that whoever owned this place must be obsessed with it.
Gold was worked into every piece, lavish and deliberate, as if the entire house had been designed to reflect the moon’s beauty. None of it looked cheap. If anything, it was the kind of wealth Sakura knew he would never touch in his lifetime.

They walked down the long hallway, turned right at the end, and stopped in front of a large door.
It didn’t match the rest of the house.

An old sliding door, worn with age. The rough grain of the wood caught the fluorescent light in a dull sheen.

Still carrying Sakura, Endo pulled it open with one hand.
Beyond it—
was a bathhouse.

Not a private one, but something closer to a public bath in size. At this hour, there was no one else around. The floors were dry, the sinks unused, no sign anyone had been there recently.
The changing area was wide, lined with rows of square shelves filled with baskets.
A communal bath.
Sakura could tell from the posted cleaning rules on the wall, from the neatly arranged supplies—signs of people living together.

Endo set him down.
Sakura pushed himself upright, favoring his leg. Pain lingered in his ankle—he must have twisted it when he kicked the wakagashira.
A dull, throbbing ache spread through it.
If it had been a fracture, nausea would have followed by now.
Since it hadn’t, it probably wasn’t serious.
He rolled his ankle slightly, testing it—
and sneezed.

His body shuddered faintly with the aftershock, and he sniffed.
It wasn’t winter, but he’d been soaked, standing out in the night air. Getting sick wouldn’t be surprising. Sakura wasn’t prone to major injuries—but fevers would take him down without warning.

He reached for the zipper of his hoodie.
Just as he was about to drop the damp clothes into a basket, he noticed it.

Endo was watching him.
Not saying anything.
Just… watching.

There was no reason for him to stay. He had already brought Sakura here.
Unable to ignore the stare any longer, Sakura spoke.

“Hey.”
“Yeah?”
“How long you gonna stick around?”

Endo gave a lazy shrug.

“In case you suddenly decide you’re not cut out for working under me and try to bolt naked.”

A crooked smile tugged at his lips.

“Call it supervision.”

He didn’t move to leave.
Instead, he sat down in one of the basket chairs lined along the wall, crossing his long legs as he settled in.
And kept watching Sakura.

“I’m not running… And you staring like that is distracting as hell.”
“Oh? You the type to care about privacy or something?”
“It’s not about that… I mean—if you were getting in too, whatever. But me being the only one in the bath while you just sit here watching? That’s weird.”
“Oh? What, you wanna bathe with me or something?”
“The hell!? No!”

Sakura snapped back, face burning red. His voice echoed sharply through the empty changing room.

“Besides, if you need someone to keep watch, just have one of your guys do it. You’re kinda important, aren’t you?”

Endo raised a brow.

“You do remember you took out all five of my men, right?”

Sakura flinched.
That hit where it hurt. He had no comeback for that.
He looked away, clicking his tongue under his breath.
Endo stood.
Then closed the distance in a few easy steps—and grabbed the hem of Sakura’s soaked shirt.

“W-what the hell—”

His voice cracked. Sakura tried to step back, but Endo’s hand caught his shoulder, rough and unbothered.

“C’mon. Strip. All of it.”

Endo started yanking at his clothes without hesitation.
Sakura shoved against him, trying to push him back—but it didn’t even budge him. The guy was solid. Built like a wall.
Figures.
There was no way he was winning a contest of strength.

“I said I’ll do it myself!”

The moment he snapped that, Endo let go.
Sakura didn’t waste a second.
He tore his clothes off at record speed and bolted toward the bath area, shoving the fogged glass door open hard enough that it slammed against the wall with a sharp crack.
Somewhere behind him—

“Left a towel here for you,” Endo called lazily.
Sakura didn’t answer.

The bath area was just as spacious as the changing room—and far cleaner than the worn entrance had suggested.
Smooth tile stretched across the entire floor, spotless, reflecting the harsh fluorescent light.
Beyond it sat two large baths.

Above them—
a massive image of the moon.
Up close, he realized it was all done in tile.

Sakura grabbed a stool and a bucket from the corner and made his way back to the showers.
Something about the place made him uneasy.
So he chose a spot along the far wall, keeping his distance.

Sakura twisted the faucet, adjusting the mix of cold and hot water. Warmth spread from the top of his head down to his fingertips.
For the first time since all this started, the tension coiled through his body began to loosen. He let out a slow breath.

He scooped some water into his mouth and rinsed. When he spat it out, there was blood in it.
He blinked. He hadn’t even noticed his mouth was cut. The adrenaline must have dulled it. Only now, with the sting of hot water, did he start to register the smaller scrapes scattered across his body.

Then—
the door opened.
Sakura looked up.

“…Huh?”

He wiped the water from his face and turned—
Endo was walking in. Fully dressed. Shirt, slacks, everything.

And he wasn’t even trying to avoid the puddles. Water darkened the hem of his pants as he made his way straight over.

“Hey—what the hell are you doing just walking in like that?”
“Figured we hadn’t properly introduced ourselves yet.”

Endo grabbed a stool from the corner on his way over and dropped it beside Sakura. It hit the tile with a hollow clack.
Water from the shower splashed against his black shirt, leaving dark stains.
Sakura hurriedly shut the faucet off.
The sudden silence made the space feel even larger.

“Name’s Endo Yamato. ‘En’ as in tree and flame, ‘do’ as in a hall. Yamato—‘ya’ for joy, ‘ma’ for truth, and ‘to’ like the ‘to’ in a can.”

Sakura blinked.

“Uh… you good with kanji? Or nah. I’ll just show you a card later. Anyway—your name?”

Water still dripped from the faucet in slow, uneven taps.
Sakura frowned.

“Sakura Haruka.”
“Huh. Sakura, huh? The usual ‘sakura’? Or the fancy kanji? And Haruka—modern or old form?”
“Th-the hell are you talking about…?”

The guy talked too damn fast.
Questions kept coming, one after another, like gunfire. Sakura didn’t have the headspace to keep up.
More than that—
this whole situation was insane.
He was naked.
In a bathhouse.
And this guy had just walked in fully clothed and started interrogating him.

“Eh, whatever. I can just check.”

Endo reached into his pocket.
When Sakura saw what came out, his eyes widened.

“That’s my wallet! The hell—!?”
“Swiped it from waka’s guys earlier.”

Endo smiled lightly, tossing the wallet in one hand like he was playing with it.
Then, without asking, he flipped it open.
Inside was Sakura’s ID—the same one the wakagashira had looked at before.

Endo scanned it, taking in every detail.
Then he stopped at one line.

“Huh.”

A small breath of amusement.

“You’re twenty?”

The quiet comment echoed in the tiled room.
Sakura turned the faucet back on, letting the water run harder than necessary.

“…Yeah, so?”
“I’m eighteen, you know.”

Endo tilted his head slightly, still smiling.

“Didn’t expect someone older than me to look this small. Kinda cute, honestly.”

Hot water poured steadily from the tap.
Sakura knew it was a waste.
Still—
he didn’t turn it off.

“Seriously. You’re twenty?”
“…I said I am.”
“No lies?”

Sakura’s shoulder twitched—
just slightly.
Endo didn’t miss it.

“You know,” Endo said, almost casually, “I think of the guys under me as family.”
“…What?”
“Not blood, obviously. Can’t change that. So what matters in a setup like that is something else—something past blood. A mental bond.”
“…Where the hell is this coming from?”

Endo didn’t stop.

“If you wanna build that kind of bond, you get rid of lies. Completely.”

Sakura didn’t look at him.

“You’re under me now,” Endo went on. “That makes you one of mine. Which means—family.”
“The hell are you getting at?”

Endo’s hand moved.
Slow.
It reached past Sakura and gripped the faucet in front of him, fingers closing around the metal. The dull surface disappeared in his palm.

“What’s your age?”

The water stopped.
Just like that, silence flooded the room.
It clung to his skin.
Sakura swallowed.

“…Fifteen.”

Endo froze.
Then—

“Fifteen!?”

His voice rang out, echoing off the tiles.
Sakura shot him a glare.

“You’re telling me you took all of them down at that age? Every single one of them was at least ten years older than you—and not amateurs either.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Sakura said flatly. “Who they are doesn’t change anything.”

No pride.
No hesitation.
Just a simple statement of fact.
Endo stared at him.
Sakura didn’t notice. He reached for the shampoo and started working it into his hair, rough, careless.

“I don’t lose.”
“…Huh.”

Endo’s voice dropped—quiet, but thick with something heavier.
Sakura didn’t catch it.

“Damn… I picked up something good.”

Just like that, the tension snapped.
Endo’s tone turned bright again as he smacked Sakura’s back a few times, hard enough to send suds splashing. Some of it got into Sakura’s eyes.

“Shit—”

He hurriedly turned the faucet back on.

“But you still got caught in the end.”

Sakura’s hand stopped.

“You lost.”
“…Didn’t lose.”
“Yeah, you did. You’re here, aren’t you? Got dragged all the way in and nearly killed.”

The words were calm.
Too calm.
That made them worse.

“…If it’d been a straight fight, that wouldn’t have happened.”
“Oh? Because they pulled a stun gun?”

Endo sounded almost amused.

“Yeah, I mean—bringing something like that into a fight’s pretty lame, right? It’s self-defense gear. If you’re not even aiming to attack, that’s basically running.”

Something about that—
didn’t sit right.
Sakura’s thoughts stalled.

“…How do you know that?”

Endo didn’t hesitate.

“I was watching.”

The water washed the foam from Sakura’s hair. Through the strands hanging over his eyes, he looked up at the mirror.
Endo’s reflection was there.
Blurred—
but clear enough.

Their eyes met. And then Sakura saw it.

That look.
Something twisted. Almost… enraptured.

“I saw everything.”
“…Saw what?”
“Everything. From start to finish.”

Endo’s gaze shifted—no longer through the mirror, but directly at Sakura beside him.
He rested his cheek lazily against his hand, elbow on his knee.
His face was faintly flushed.

“I saw you jump into that alley, sticking your nose into some traitor’s mess. Saw you wipe out my guys in seconds. Saw you get dropped by a stun gun and hauled off.”

His voice softened.
Almost sweet.

“And I saw you kick waka right in the face when you couldn’t take it anymore.”

Sakura couldn’t look at him.

“I like you,” Endo said. “Seriously.”

Sakura didn’t answer.

“That kind of strength? It’s wasted on playing hero. Don’t use it for other people. Use it for yourself. You keep clinging to that ‘help the weak’ crap, you’re gonna die young in this world.”

The water was warm.
His body should’ve been warming up.
But something cold was creeping in anyway, settling deep in his chest.
The sting in his eye from the soap—he barely noticed it anymore.
He just wanted distance.
From this man.

“Relax,” Endo went on, tone light again. “Stick with me. Do what I say. I won’t let that happen to you.”

Sakura glanced at him.
Endo was smiling—calm, easy.
Sakura looked away.
…Yeah.
He’d gotten himself noticed by the worst kind of person.

“By the way, Sakura—what about school?
…Though I’m not really one to talk.”
“Haven’t been going. I’m already working.
That ID, too—no one hires a fifteen-year-old, so someone at home gave it to me.”
“‘Someone at home,’ huh…”

From the fact that he carried a forged ID—and the way he stubbornly avoided calling them his “family,”—Endo found himself piecing together a rough picture of Sakura’s home life.

“So you’ve got a reason, then. Working at that age.”
“…Not really.”
“Parents?”
“Don’t have any.”
“Siblings?”
“No.”
“Relatives?”
“…Don’t know. Probably none.”

The answers came fast. Flat, one after another. Endo didn’t react right away.

Sakura flicked him a glance.

He knew. He’d always known his life wasn’t exactly normal. People noticed, reacted, pitied him. He was used to it.

Didn’t make it any easier—waiting for what came next.

“I see. So you’re all alone in the world.”
“…All alone?”
“Yeah. Means from the moment you’re born to the day you die—you’re on your own.”

He said it lightly. Too lightly.
The words still hit.
Sakura shot him a glare.
Endo just shrugged.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that. Sounds pretty damn good, if you ask me. No ties. No one holding you back. You live how you want, die how you want.”

Sakura blinked.
…That wasn’t what he expected.
No mockery. No pity.

If anything—
it almost sounded like envy.

“Family’s overrated,” Endo muttered. “Blood just makes things messy.”

For a second, his voice changed. Not much. But enough to feel like it came from somewhere else.
Sakura didn’t ask. He didn’t need to.

“Anyway,” Endo said, tone snapping back, “couldn’t really see earlier, but—your eyes.”

He leaned in.
Too close.

“That one’s a different color, huh? Heterochromia? First time I’ve seen it in person.”

Sakura pulled back instinctively.
Endo followed his gaze, studying him.

“And your hair—this natural? Doesn’t look dyed.”
“…Born like this.”
“Huh.”

Endo reached out, twirling a strand of the white hair between his fingers. Careful. Almost gentle.
That alone made Sakura tense.
No one touched him like that.
No one looked at him like that, either.

“Really are like a cat,” Endo said.

Sakura’s expression darkened.
Endo caught it instantly.

“Whoa, hey. Don’t take it the wrong way.”

He lifted both hands, easy, like surrender.

“I’m not insulting you. …Sorry.”

Sakura blinked.
He hadn’t expected that.
…What a weird guy.

From the moment Endo stepped in back there, he’d been impossible to read.

He would restrain Sakura’s struggling body by force, yet gently touch the marks left on his skin as if they mattered. And then, in the same breath, he would threaten to use any means necessary to make him speak the truth.

He wore a high-end suit that even someone like Sakura could recognize as expensive, yet he didn’t care at all when it got soaked and dirty. There was a disconnect between the aesthetic sense of what he wore and the way he himself acted.

Just as the wakagashira had lost his temper over his broken sunglasses, people tend to project their sense of self onto their possessions. But Endo was different. There was a faint mismatch between what he owned and how he behaved.

For Sakura, who had developed a habit of observing people in order to survive in an unforgiving environment, Endo’s contradictions felt especially distorted.

It almost seemed as though this man had no axis of his own. As if Endo might be living his life anchored to something other than himself.

Things you can’t understand are frightening. That was why Sakura was afraid of him. Endo felt like something wearing a human shape—an unfathomable presence pretending to be human.

Then Endo held out his right hand in front of him. Sakura looked from that hand to Endo’s face, and slowly opened his mouth.

“…What’s that supposed to be?”
“What, you blind? It’s a handshake.”

Before Sakura could react, Endo grabbed his wrist and pulled him in. Their hands met—wet skin against wet skin, water slipping between their fingers.
Their first handshake.

“Nice to meet you, brother.”

Endo smiled. No hostility, nothing sharp—just a clean, perfect smile, built to put people at ease.

And somehow, that made it worse. There was nothing behind it.

Sakura curled his fingers loosely around Endo’s hand. No matter how off he felt—he was still human. Supposed to be.

Endo’s hand was warmer than he expected, heat pulsing under the skin. Alive.

For some reason, Sakura found himself wanting to understand him.

Maybe because, for the first time, he realized just how warm another person’s body could be.

＊

Sakura stirred at the faint presence nearby.
When his vision finally cleared, he found Endo sitting cross-legged right in front of him, dressed in a white shirt and black slacks.

“Morning, Sakura.”
“…!”

Just because his eyes were open didn’t mean his brain had caught up.
He threw the blanket off and pushed himself upright—only for a sharp throb to shoot through the bruises he’d taken the night before.

“The hell are you doing here?!”
“What do you mean? This is my room.”

Sakura glanced around.
This wasn’t his run-down apartment.
Not even close.
And with that realization, everything from the night before came flooding back.

“Still half asleep?” Endo said, watching him.
“…shut up.”

Sakura raked a hand through his messy hair and let out a long breath.

“You look pretty alive, all things considered.”
“Yeah. Lucky me.”

Endo leaned in slightly, studying his face.
There was a compress on Sakura’s cheek, bruising blooming under his skin. Calling that “alive” felt like a stretch—but it wasn’t entirely wrong.
He had slept.
That alone meant the damage wasn’t serious.
Sakura healed fast. He’d be fine in a week.

“There’s breakfast. You eating?”
“…yeah.”

Endo stood. Sakura followed, folding the futon before stepping out after him.
A simple meal waited on the dining table—rice, miso soup, omelet, grilled salmon.
Simple, but more than Sakura usually had.

“Did you make this?”
“Nope. Grabbed it from the cafeteria.”
“There’s a cafeteria?”
“Yeah. Guess I never explained the place.”

Endo dropped into a chair, grabbed a scrap of paper, and started sketching.
Sakura sat across from him, leaning forward to watch.

“The estate’s pretty big. There are three main buildings. The biggest one’s the main house—that’s where the boss lives.”

He drew a rough square, then marked off sections.

“Only executives are allowed in there. So I can go in. You can’t.”
“…so, you’re important or something.”
“Something like that,” Endo said with a grin. “Most people wouldn’t talk to me like you do.”

Sakura hesitated.

“…am I allowed to?”
“I don’t care. You’d suck at being polite anyway.”

Sakura froze for half a second.
Endo caught it—and laughed.

“Relax. I hate that formal crap too. Just… don’t try that with the other executives.”
“…Got it.”
“Honestly? The best move for you is to keep your mouth shut until you get a feel for the place.”

That made sense.
If this place was big enough to hold multiple buildings, then there were plenty of people here.
And Sakura wasn’t exactly great with people.

“…yeah. I’ll do that.”
“And the other two buildings—one’s for the crew and the office, the other’s for the boss’s son. The bath you used yesterday? That’s in the crew house. Cafeteria’s there too.”
“Huh? That wasn’t even the biggest one? That place looked loaded—everything in there screamed money.”

Endo snorted. “You’d pass out if you saw the main house. Most of that stuff? Hand-me-downs. Used to be in there. The rest is just whatever they got bored of.”

Sakura frowned.
Back there, every piece had caught his eye—everything polished, deliberate, built around that moon motif. He’d assumed it was all expensive.
Apparently, that had been the cheap version.

“And this one,” Endo went on, tapping the paper, “is for the boss’s son. That’s where we are now. I’ll have a room set up for you today. Use it starting tomorrow.”
“…Got it.”

Endo handed him the sketch.
For something drawn in a minute, it was absurdly precise. Layout, proportions—even the exterior was roughed in along the margins with sharp, almost realistic lines.
Sakura stared at it a second longer than he meant to.

“You get lost, look at that. Or just ask,” Endo said. “Though I’m not letting you wander off alone yet.”

Sakura folded the paper and slipped it into his pocket.
Then his attention shifted—to the food in front of him.

“Endo.”
“Yeah?”
“You already eat?”
“Nah. Don’t bother most mornings. Go ahead.”

Endo stood and headed into the kitchen, pouring something into a white mug.
A rich, bitter smell drifted over.

“You drink coffee?” he asked.
“Coffee?”
“This.”

He grabbed another mug, filled it, and set it down in front of Sakura, turning the handle toward him without thinking.
Steam curled up from the surface.
Sakura eyed it, then took a cautious sip.

“…It’s good.”

Endo grinned. “Huh. Didn’t expect that. You’ve got an adult palate.”
“The hell does that mean?”
“Nothing.”

He was clearly enjoying himself. It wasn’t that polished, practiced smile from before. This one was looser. Easier. Still annoying, though.
While Sakura ate, Endo stayed in his seat across from him, doing nothing—just watching.
Not studying him, exactly. Just… there.
But even that was enough to be distracting.
Sakura wasn’t used to eating with other people. He could count the number of times on one hand.
Under that quiet gaze, even the taste of the salmon started to fade.

“…Why do you keep staring?”
“’Cause it’s interesting.”
“Inter— Just don’t. It’s distracting.”

Endo didn’t answer.
His eyes followed the movement of Sakura’s chopsticks instead.
Sakura glanced up—
Their eyes met instantly. Endo smiled. Sakura looked away just as fast.
By the time he finished eating, he barely remembered what anything had tasted like.

“I’ve got a job for you today, Sakura.”
“A job?”

After they cleared breakfast, Endo handed him a shirt and a full suit.
Sakura pulled it on—and blinked.
It fit perfectly.

“…How the hell—”
“Took your measurements while you were asleep.”

Sakura went quiet.

“…You serious?”

Endo just smiled.

“Usually I’m stuck looking after the boss’s son,” he went on, picking up a black tie and stepping closer. “But today’s a little different. Something came up.”

Sakura frowned, turning the tie over in his hands.

“…And you want me for it?”
“Yeah.”

He hesitated a second.

“…What kind of job is it?”

Endo moved behind him without answering and took the tie from his hands, looping it neatly around Sakura’s collar.
Up close, his presence felt heavier.
Closer.

“Moving someone,” Endo said.

His voice dropped just enough to brush against Sakura’s ear.
Sakura flinched.

The job, as it turned out, was simple.

“Moving someone” sounded bigger than it was. All Sakura had to do was make sure the person didn’t run.
The target was being transferred from the eastern base to the western one. Somewhere in between, they’d switch vehicles.
Sakura’s role was to stand watch during that handoff. That was it.
Endo drove them out to the edge of the city—behind an old, half-abandoned factory in the coastal industrial zone.
Now they waited.

“Running late,” Endo muttered, glancing at the road. “They should’ve been here by now.”
“Traffic?”
“Maybe.”

Right on cue, a black minivan rolled into the lot.
It moved slow, cutting across the cracked pavement before pulling up beside their car.

“There they are.”

Endo stepped forward. Sakura followed.
Two men got out of the front seats—both built like walls.
They slid the back door open.
Sakura looked inside—
—and froze.

“…What the hell did he do?”

Endo didn’t even look.

“Something bad.”That was all he said.

The person brought in from the East had his wrists and ankles bound, a tightly woven burlap sack pulled over his head. The dark brown fabric puffed in and out with each breath.

Sakura hadn’t been told a single thing about what this man had done. But seeing him restrained this heavily, it was only natural to start wondering.

The vehicle meant to transport him west was still stuck in traffic and hadn’t reached the factory yet, leaving them waiting for nearly thirty minutes now. Guard duty during the wait had been assigned to Sakura, so he sat quietly in the front passenger seat of the minivan, keeping an eye on the man in the back through the mirror.

Endo had said he had something to take care of and gone into the factory with two other men. Which meant, for all intents and purposes, only Sakura and the detainee were in the vehicle now.

Then, a muffled voice came from beneath the sack.

“…Can’t… breathe.”

Barely a voice.
Sakura frowned.

“Please… just a little. Loosen it. I won’t do anything.”

He twisted in his seat to look back. The man’s shoulders jerked with every breath.
For a second, Sakura just watched.
Then—
Don’t touch him.
Endo’s voice rang clear in his head.
Sakura clicked his tongue.

“…Tch.”

He pushed the door open and stepped out. Gravel crunched underfoot as he moved around to the back and slid the door open.
Don’t touch him. That was the rule.
But nothing had been said about the sack.
Sakura reached out.

“I’m just loosening it. That’s it.”

His fingers worked into the knot. The rope was rough, biting into his skin as he pulled it loose.
The tension gave.
A gap opened—
The man’s head snapped up.

“Hey— I said, just loosen it!”

Too late. The sack slipped free and dropped onto the seat.
Sakura froze.

“…What the hell—”

The face underneath was exposed.
Bruised. Swollen all over his face and eyes.
And—
this was the same man Sakura had pulled out yesterday. The one who had been running from the yakuza.

“…You.”
“Wait— you’re… from before—!”

Recognition hit.
Hard.

“I thought you got away!”
“I did— I did, but they— they caught me again—!”

The man started thrashing, panic spilling out of him.
Sakura moved on instinct, grabbing him and forcing him down.

“Stay still!”

Shit.
If Endo saw this—
Even through the haze in his head, one thing was clear.
This was bad. He was there.

“Please help me! If this keeps going, I’m going to die for sure. He’s going to kill me—Endo is going to kill me!”
“Calm down—hey, don’t struggle!”
“You’re the only one I can ask! Please, I’m begging you… please help me!”

The man didn’t sound like he was lying.
More than that—he was already being transported. That much was clear.

Sakura didn’t know what waited in the west, the destination, but the man was refusing to go there.
Which meant—
He was going to be killed there.

Sakura’s hand moved. He was the only one who could let him go. The only moment to save him was now, while Endo wasn’t here.

Sakura made his decision. It was the kind of decision that felt right.

His trembling fingers reached for the man’s wrist. The rope binding him was tight. Rough. His vision narrowed with tension. He didn’t notice the man’s mouth twisting into a faint, distorted smile.

“Sakura.”

Heat suddenly pressed against his back. A shadow fell in front of him, swallowing the man’s face.
A hot breath brushed his ear. An arm locked around his stomach, squeezing his ribs until they creaked.
Sakura’s breath caught.

“You were told not to touch him, weren’t you?”

Something black slid into view beside him. A gun in Endo’s hand.

The moment Sakura registered it, the shot had already gone off.
The man’s thigh exploded with pain.

“Ghh—!”

The sack on the floor was pointed at with the barrel of the gun. Blood from the man’s leg spread across it, darkening the fabric.

“Did you start feeling like saving him again?”

Endo said it like they were talking about the weather.
Sakura shoved him off, tearing himself free from the arm around him.
Even with full force behind it, Endo only stepped back a few paces.

His hand reached out again—casual, almost gentle—toward Sakura’s cheek.
Sakura slapped it away.
In the same motion, he grabbed the gun from Endo’s hand and pointed it straight at him.

“Hey!”
“What?”
“Don’t come any closer to him!”

He shielded the groaning man behind him and glared at Endo.
The air between them tightened.
Sakura’s heartbeat was loud enough to drown everything else out.

“Come on, Sakura. Don’t do something stupid. If you don’t know how to shoot, you’ll just end up injuring yourself when it goes off.”
“Shut up!”
“I’ll explain it simply,” Endo continued, unfazed. “It’s automatic. So if you squeeze that trigger you’re holding even a little too hard, it’ll fire a live round. And even with a suppressor, if you keep shooting like that, it’ll draw attention. The cops will come.”

Endo looked completely out of place. He always did. His voice hadn’t changed. Neither had the air around him. It was the same as this morning, when they had eaten together.
Even now, with a gun pointed at him, it felt like Sakura was the one trapped.
Something strange twisted inside Sakura.
A wrongness. A ripple of it. His thoughts wouldn’t settle. It felt like everything leading up to this had been arranged.

“Hey, Sakura.”

Endo spoke as if it were nothing more than a casual question.

“Why do you think that guy was being chased?”He smiled.

That same polite, shaped smile Sakura didn’t like.
Sakura answered after a pause.

“…I heard he betrayed the group. Stole money.”
“That’s not it.”

Endo slowly lifted his arm.
Sakura tensed immediately. His fingers tightened around the trigger.
But the hand wasn’t pointed at him. It pointed past him. At the man in the back seat.

“That guy tried to kill me.”
“…What?”
“He was hired to kill me. And he failed—pathetically. But I’m a nice guy, you know? I couldn’t just pretend it never happened, but I showed him some mercy. Made it look like he took the money and ran, and let him go. Watching someone try to escape after failing to kill me? Sounds pretty entertaining, right? So I stuck around to see it up close.”

Endo’s voice passed through Sakura’s ears without settling.
It registered as sound, but not meaning.

“I’d say one escape would’ve cost him maybe a finger at most. But you got involved. Now he’s betrayed the group twice. Someone who betrays twice doesn’t get a third chance.”

Endo placed his hand over Sakura’s.
Gently. Carefully, he eased Sakura’s finger off the trigger.
Sakura didn’t resist. The gun was taken from his hand. Endo slipped it away into his coat.

Then he touched Sakura’s cheek.
This time, Sakura didn’t knock it away.

“Hey, Sakura. You think he’s some helpless guy worth saving, don’t you?
Wrong. He’s garbage. Absolute trash.
He used his own daughter as collateral and buried himself in debt he could never pay off. And when things got tight, he pushed her into work to cover it. When she stopped being useful, he just threw her away.
Honestly? The guys you beat up from my crew are better than him. At least they took orders and did the job because we were short-handed.”

Endo hooked a finger under Sakura’s chin and forced his face up. Their eyes met.

“Endo… I’ll kill you! This is all your fault!”
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t start rewriting reality. You chose every step of it.”
“If you’d just died back then, none of this would’ve happened!”
“Oh? So you’re dropping the act now? If I’d stayed dead, your ‘kind, heroic Sakura’ might’ve saved you instead.”

The man howled, thrashing in the back seat as the car shook with his movements. His rage, unable to find a way out, finally turned on Sakura.

“You little white-haired brat! This is on you too! If you hadn’t played hero, none of this would’ve happened!”
“…At this point, it’s almost impressive how you outsource all your blame,” Endo said quietly.

The moment the insult landed, Endo’s presence shifted. His hand slipped toward his holster. Sakura caught his arm on reflex—but Endo didn’t even look at him.
Then an engine echoed from the factory entrance. Sakura looked up. The car meant for transport to the west base had arrived.
Endo let go of the gun. Instead, he pulled a sack over the man’s head, tied it tight, and shoved him into the arriving vehicle. After a brief exchange with the driver, the car left the abandoned factory.
The vehicle that had brought him from the east was already gone.

Crows called out at dusk, their voices signaling the end of daylight. Only the two of them were left in the abandoned factory.

“Sakura.”

A gentle voice made the air tremble against his eardrums. Hearing his name, Sakura slowly lifted his head.

“Come here.”

They were only a few steps apart, yet Endo still told him to come. As if he needed it to be clear—Sakura had chosen to approach on his own will.
Sakura took a few steps forward, drawn in by Endo’s gesture. A hand came down and gently ruffled his round head.

“Endo.”
“Yeah?”
“Where did they take him?”
“To some pretty bad people.”
“...Is he going to die?”
“Nah. I avoided the major blood vessels when I shot him.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Oh—so you’re asking what happens to him now?”

There was nearly a twenty-centimeter height difference between them, forcing Sakura to look up. Endo’s teal eyes looked down at him, narrowing slightly in amusement.

“You wanna know?”

Sakura gave a small nod. Endo’s fingers combed softly through his hair.

“There are all kinds of freaks in this world. Guys who enjoy torturing people for days. Perverts who like grooming kids going through puberty. Chem freaks who mix drugs just to test them on others. That guy’s about to go ‘hang out’ with people like that.”

Sakura was forced to realize, with brutal clarity, how close that kind of death was to his everyday life. It wasn’t some distant future event. It could happen here, now.

The world beneath the surface was a place where people who couldn’t survive in the light were cast out. And in that pressure, the heat of those people resonated and accumulated, dragging even the normal ones into adrenaline addiction. Their senses warped. Eventually, they couldn’t live normally anymore.

Endo might be one of them too—Sakura almost asked, but stopped. The answer would only be what he already expected.

“Listen. This is what happens when you swing around justice that doesn’t fit your size. This is the world you stepped into because you thought you were doing the right thing.”

Endo spoke gently, like he was scolding a child. But every word he called “truth” pierced straight through Sakura’s chest.

“You tried to help out of kindness, got it thrown back in your face, and ended up feeling like shit. You’ve learned it now, right? That talent of yours is wasted on other people.”

His voice was soft, warm, almost affectionate—yet it seeped directly into Sakura’s mind. Hearing it whispered so close made something inside him shake.

The expression on Endo’s face—clear, delighted—made Sakura understand everything.
This had been the point from the very beginning. Endo brought him here to make him see reality. The job, the situation, the timing—it had all been arranged so Sakura would inevitably intervene. If the man tried to escape, Sakura would reach out. Endo only had to set the conditions and wait. The scene would complete itself.

Sakura had been moved entirely within Endo’s palm.

“But it’s okay.”

Endo’s whisper brushed against his ear, and Sakura clenched his hand without realizing it. His fingers slipped slightly—he was sweating more than he thought. Cold at the tips, but burning inside.

“I’ll guide you.”

He was pulled into an embrace. Against his ear, he heard a heartbeat—Endo’s heart, deep inside his chest, pounding too fast, almost excited.
That heat, that thought—it felt like it was seeping into Sakura.

From here on, he would be spending most of his life alongside this man. If that became his everyday reality, how much of himself would change?

He took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. Endo’s cologne filled his nose.
For some reason, Sakura felt like crying.