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cheesus-doodles · 3 months

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Going Home: Chapter 4

Yandere Platonic Toman + Time Leaper Darling

Masterlist

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Going Home: Chapter 1 | 2 | 3

I kept my promise!! Editing tmr, I'm dead on my feet rn

The neighborhood that Takemichi and Naoto found themselves in was a far cry from the dazzling city lights of Shibuya City that Draken once called home: a suburb outside of the bustling city, where houses and apartments alike that lined the streets as far as the eye can see with the occasional shop breaking the facade. Yet even with the shop entrance nestled off on a side alley, the roads still noticeably buzzed with life as the time drew closer to noon, the hustle and bustle of non-stop traffic and office workers swarming through town that Takemichi remembered had instead been replaced smaller, livelier groups of students filing past with nay a glance at the duo, too caught up in their chatter and gossip of the day.

It was jarring, the former Toman member had to admit, watching the rest of the world go by uncaringly at its own relaxed pace when compared against the urgency of the sticky situation he was in the midst of. Whatever time he spent in the present was time that he couldn’t spend twelve years in the past fixing the future after all. Blue eyes nervously glanced around at every passing soul, before they turned to meet gray ones for the umpteenth time. “Are you sure this is the right place?” The former delinquent asked again, anxiously wringing his hands. He couldn’t help himself, even if Naoto’s sympathetic look had long given way to an annoyed frown. “Maybe we should ring again?”

"No, just give it a minute."

Something felt wrong, yet this ordinary bike shop was precisely where the detective’s digging had pointed him too, the name on the business license unmistakable. So why did it feel so strange? So out-of-place? Takemichi glanced at the shop sign again, the unlit signboard ominously looming over the small alley.

The questions quickly faded as footsteps started to thunder down what must have been a flight of steps after the doorbell announced their presence outside the nondescript motorcycle shop, the sound of annoyed mumbling growing louder as the footsteps approached. Takemichi held his breath. The door rattled for a brief moment before it was yanked open.

"What?"

The single word was growled out before the figure behind the door was fully visible, and Takemichi’s soul nearly left his body as he came face to face with a clearly pissed off Draken. The former Vice Captain of Toman had only grown taller and more intimidating with every passed year, and now twelve years in the future, he made for one formidable figure, blond hair now back to its natural black. A minute of silence as Draken looked between the two, before recognition sparked behind those abyss eyes. “Takemichi?”

“It’s me,” was all said man managed to squeak back.

Letting out a sigh, the bike mechanic dressed in overalls visibly relaxed, the hand clutching a wrench dropping to hang loosely by his side. “It’s been years.”

"It has been," Takemichi nervously laughed, before waving over to a very calm Naoto. “This is Naoto, a friend of mine.”

"So what do the two of you want?"

Straight to the point huh. The time leaper took a gulp of air, steeling his nerves. “W-well, um, Draken-kun, we actually wanted to ask about the… seventh founding member of Toman.” They wanted to ask about you was, what Takemichi wanted to say, but all those instances of being drilled again and again by Chifuyu to avoid saying your name at all costs twelve years ago stopped his heavy tongue from spitting it out.

Another pause as the larger man stared him down, and this time, the stillness was palpable. Takemichi could feel the sweat rolling down the side of his head, waiting for a reaction. His gut only churned more. This was not good,

Quicker than he could see, the next thing the time traveller could process was him being lifted cleanly off the ground by the front of his shirt, his face suddenly leveled with a furious Draken’s. “What?” The Toman founder hissed, the vein on his forehead throbbing. “Wanna repeat that?”

Fuck.

ㅤ

Slamming the door shut behind him, the once-Toman Vice President cursed under his breath as he stormed out from the back room. How fucking dare he. How dare Takemichi come asking for information on you. He had been inches from turning that turd face into a smear on the ground for soiling the memory of you with his thoughts.

Yet for all the anger smeared across his face in plain sight for customers and passers-by alike to see, it was an uncomfortable turmoil that brewed in the base of his gut, one that Draken knew came from a lack of closure. Of course he had been keeping his ear to the ground all these years - how could he not, when you meant and still mean the world to him - but the last thing he expected to happen today would be to be reminded of you and your sudden disappearance twelve years ago and the quick downfall of everything else that followed. You had always been the center of the Tokyo Manji Gang, after all.

In a vain attempt to distract himself from the sudden flurry of memories and thoughts, the former delinquent picked up a socket wrench and pulled out a stool. There was nothing more he could do at the moment, Draken tried to convince himself, busying his hands with loosening the bolts of a motorcycle engine; all Takemichi and his detective friend had brought were more questions instead of answers, but he was certain that he would have heard of any news regarding you.

A buzz as the bell to the backroom door went off once more, and every last shred of concentration the man with the dragon tattoo had left instantly went down the gutter. His mind leapt straight back to Takemichi as the vulgarities and curses started to flow once more. If it was that bastard again with his questions, he swears- “What?!” He barked out as the door flew open once more with a bang, not sparing a second glance as to who it was.

But it wasn’t the two black mobs of hair he had expected to see standing outside, instead being greeted by an awfully familiar swish of a ponytail that Draken hadn’t seen in years, the green of an apron with the logo of a pet shop striking against the backdrop of a dull, gray alley. Those distinct yellow eyes of Baji, once sharp and methodical, were instead completely blown wide with panic, the other shoving the screen of a smartphone straight at him. “It’s- it’s-” The words died away before they could leave his tongue; the former Toman’s First Division Captain clearly too shocked by something to say a hello or even notice Draken’s foul mood. And the temperamental pet shop delinquent would have never let that kind of tone drop without a fight.

The motorcycle engineer simply snatched up the phone to take a better look himself. “What am I looking at?” A pause, a sudden silence as Draken continued to squint at the screen while Baji collected his thoughts and emotions.

“It’s her.”

Draken almost dropped the phone as soon as the other blurted out those two laden words. “What?” The man muttered, his voice lost to disbelief. He knew, of course, who Baji was referring to. “That’s not possible.” It simply wasn’t. He would have known if you had been seen.

“Look.” Snatching back his phone, Baji clicked into one of his conversations, before turning the screen back around. “A message from her number. Yesterday night. I only saw it when I woke up.”

Draken’s mind instantly jumped to his earlier visit, and Takemichi’s probing questions about you. Was this related? Did he know something that Draken did not? Logic told the tattooed man otherwise - as much as he would have liked for you to have appeared out of thin air, there must be a different explanation. “Could it have been Mikey?” It must be, since they both knew that Bonten had continued to maintain your number all these years, Mikey having never really gotten over your sudden disappearance.

“So you don’t know about this either, huh?” The once First Division Captain shook his head, frowning as he concentrated. “Why would he send something like this?”

And that was true: the way the message started with a very hesitant “to whoever this number now belongs to” and directly addressed to a “hopefully Baji-kun”, there was no doubt that it must be you. What was the chance someone else with the same name as you would also know that this was Baji’s personal number? But how?

Any conversation left between the two died away, the two men left to ponder. The world, of course, simply kept turning, passersby eagerly making their way to unknown destinations, strolling past the small alley without a second glance at the duo, while the occasional vehicle rattled and raced down wide, empty roads.

Letting out a sigh, Draken stepped aside, waving at his once close-friend into the dimly-lit backroom. “I think you best come in. I’ll close up shop for the day.”

ㅤ

Twelve years in the past, despite your best efforts, you once again found yourself in the thick of things.

You sighed. “This is a bit of an overkill, don’t you think boys?” The rattling of chains seemed to agree with you, the metal links rubbing and clanking against each other as they followed the cuffed hand you raised to shake amusedly at the Toman founders huddled around you. Back twelve years in the past and once more separate from Takemichi’s time leaping woes, things were hardly going any better for you. “I’m really not going anywhere, I promise.”

To no one’s surprise, the boys disagreed, and they were far from afraid to make that known despite your assurances; you could tell from the tightening clutches and tugging on your shirt, and that was if you could ignore the immediate protests and whining and whimpering that broke out. But you couldn’t really blame them, you suppose, musing to yourself as you rested your chin atop a shifty Mikey’s head, unchained hand moving to gently hold Draken’s much larger one as Kazutora tried his best to snuggle his way into the crook of your neck and probably under your skin as well. After all, it had been just a single night since you had made your sudden reappearance in the small alley a stone’s throw away from your school in a gust of wind, and three nights since you first disappeared. You were sure this was the first and longest time your boys had been apart from you ever since they entered your life.

“You did disappear though,” Mitsuya’s voice cut above the others, those dark, heavy eyebags that clung to the bottom of his and everyone else’s eyes telling you everything you needed to know. “And we still haven’t figured out what caused you to… vanish.”

“To time travel,” you corrected gently. It was easy to tell that the delinquents around you were still uncertain about how you managed to slip their grasp without their knowledge, let alone accept the idea of you having somehow leapt into the future, somewhere that they were unable to follow you to. They had always been protective of you, perhaps because of the difference between their strength and yours.

Allowing your gaze to take a wander away from the mobs of hair of various colors gathered around you, your bedroom was exactly how you remembered it had been even twelve years in the future, your belongings having been left in the exact same spot all those years. Well, aside from the unmade bed where you had fallen asleep amidst the pile of delinquents the previous night, that is. Your present blankets were left still tossed aside into a messy pile, and you couldn’t help but wonder how your Toman friends knew how to fold them back the same way you always had. Did they also take turns keeping your home clean all those years? You wondered if they had managed to share such a difficult task that would have carried so many possibly painful memories. Which inevitably led your line of thought straight back to the various questions that had been plaguing your mind: where was the future you? What happened to Mikey that left him in such a state? And where were the rest of your Toman friends?

Yet all you had were more and more questions. Shaking yourself out of your ponderings, you focused your gaze back onto the lively group of delinquents. “I don’t know what’s going on either, but it’s probably linked to the onomori you boys gave me for safekeeping.” The same purple-and-gold charm from the very founding of the gang, the same onomori that had been stabbed during that life-threatening attack on Ken-chin you tried in vain to stop, the same one that Sanzu had accidentally discovered could summon you back from the future: it now hung from a metal chain under said Vice Captain’s shirt, pressed tight against his sternum where it could get constant skin contact, and more importantly, safe from the grabby fingers of Mikey and Kazutora.

The blond-haired delinquent with the intimidating dragon tattoo only instinctively reached for the onomori once more, as if to assure himself it was still there, the collar of his shirt crumpling as he closed his fist around the bloodstained, amateurishly-patched charm. Now that they had it, you mused, there shouldn’t be any more issues.

Baji, who had earlier been shoved aside by a bawling Kazutora, grumpily poked your side, and you jumped a little in response. “So what happens in the future?” The black-haired boy asked, as you beckoned him closer, patting an empty spot to your right where he could lean up against your shoulder.

Ah, you had hoped that their line of thought wouldn’t have gone there. Because how were you supposed to respond? You hesitated, the white-haired bony, tired figure of the future Mikey roaring straight back to the front of your mind with that question. Should you be telling them about the future? Sure that would be the easiest way to ensure that that particular timeline never happened, given you were sure this would be the first time your boys will have ever heard of this predicament you found yourself in, but what if you accidentally changed the future for the worse? What if you did something irreversible that only made a bigger mess?

Maybe it would be better if you kept things to yourself first - you could always tell them the full truth later on if you needed to. Keeping that in mind, you were quick to school your face back to a neutral expression, though the brief flash of internal panic across your face at that question was enough to raise suspicion. Kazutora instantly leapt to his feet, tears that had already been dried starting to well once more at the corner of reddened eyes, lips starting to quaver once more as he jabbed a finger in your direction. “Y-you left us,” his word ladened with accusation, those sandy brown eyes clouding over as the waterworks flowed. “You did, didn’t you? You m-married someone else in the future.”

And he sounded so convinced by his own words too, you amusedly noted, as if it had already happened because he said so. “I did not,” you stated simply, reaching over to affectionately pat his knee. “I told you, you boys will always be my priority.” You weren’t sure how the delinquent with the duo-colored hair came to that particular conclusion, though you supposed it was simply just jealous.

Draken raised an imposing eyebrow. “And you don’t want to tell us what happens because?”

“Because I’m afraid it changes the future for the worse.”

“What can you tell us?”

You hummed, your eyes glancing momentarily towards the ceiling as you thought before returning to meet Draken’s gaze. “My room was still exactly the same in the future.”

“Really?” Pah looked intrigued at the idea.

“Yup! Whoever did it did a good job too, my blankets were even folded back neatly.”

Outside, your neighbor was quiet as it always was right at noon, with students yet to be released from their classes and workers still congregated under the big city lights. It was strange, looking over roads and houses that you knew would stand the test of time, leaving you to wonder if the neighbors you were well-acquainted with still occupied their homes in the future you came from. Letting out a sigh as you leaned back onto your bedroom wall, you stretched out lazily as best as you could. “Say,” you ventured. “Did you happen to meet future me?”

Kazutora sniffled, just as Mikey lifted his head to stare blankly at you, as if your question had been asked in Martian. “W-what?” “What?”

”Nothing,” you hastily concluded. Seems like the ‘future you’ was somehow missing, and you noted that down mentally in case you needed that.

ㅤ

Thankfully the subject of your apparently strange question was dropped before you had to elaborate any further on your awkward question, with dirty looks immediately being exchanged between the two still clung to you, though the black-and-yellow haired boy’s ire was quickly stolen

You hadn’t missed Mitsuya’s unwillingness to mingle with the rest for the entire length of the time the six boys had been gathered, the lilac-haired boy keeping a careful distance from Kazutora in particular, nor did you miss Kazutora’s and Mikey’s seeming aversion to each other’s presence as well, the ugly stink eyes they shot at each other over your shoulders while attempting to jab at each other when they thought you weren’t looking hard to pass over. It was clear that your disappearance had sparked a fight between the Toman founders, and though the exact details were still lost on you, it wouldn’t do to leave this crack to split any further as far as you could help it. Huffing at Kazutora’s more insistent grip around your waist, an indulgent smile pulled at the corner of your lips as you beckoned at Mitsuya to join the huddle, before your hand moved to gently stroke a pouting Mikey’s back. “Have you boys been fighting again?”

“No.” “No.” The immediate denials, combined with their gazes instantly dropping from yours, were suspicious to say the least. You imagined that they had, in fact, been fighting while you were lost to the flow of time. You wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest.

Tutting, you dished out forehead kisses to the beefing delinquents, feeling them melt away against you. “If I cook some tempura for everyone for lunch, would you be willing to make up?”

You didn’t need to wait long to get your answer.

ㅤ

Days started to pass, the hours slipping through your fingers like water. Every minute brought you further and further from your little trip to the future, your disappearance from this present. Your boys had yet to let up with their obsessive observations of you as you expected. It had, after all, just been four days since your return. You simply took it in stride, having no qualms about them wanting to tail you anywhere and everywhere, clinging to a limb or to your back as you went about your day; it definitely beat being confined to just your bedroom and cuffed to your bedpost. With enough reassurances about how you really wouldn’t leave them, and that no, you couldn’t control your time traveling, you even managed to convince your delinquents to let you back out into the wider world for accompanied trips to the supermarket and snack shops. School, however, was still out of the question for the foreseeable future (you tried).

The afternoon sky overhead was unusually overcast, the threat of rain only growing more convincing with every passing minute. Strong gusts of wind rattled windows and doors, ferrying the heavy gray clouds straight in your direction as the humidity only seemed to climb higher and higher, and you were very certain that a thunderstorm was brewing despite the continued absence of thunder. Yet here you were, you mused, as you sat on a curb with a drink in hand, alone outside for the first time in a week while you waited for Baji to settle some differences with the other delinquents inside the store. Come to think of it, you couldn’t remember the last time you had been left truly alone ever since your disappearance, though clearly, Baji not wanting you to watch him fight sat higher on the priority list. It probably wasn’t going to take long anyway.

A pause as you scratched mindlessly at your skin under the cuff. Did Baji from the future also like to fight as much as your current Baji?

Despite the possibility of you returning to that particular future being close to zero in your opinion, given that the boys had a good handle on that purple-gold charm, but you couldn’t help but think back on the white-haired Mikey from the future that had melted in your arms, that you had left behind. Ah no, not left behind, you corrected yourself, as you tried to wave away the instant guilt that settled in your heart. Technically - technically it was just one of many possible futures, and that particular future where your friend had suffered so much could have already been changed.

But something deep in your gut told you that you were wrong. Pushing that line of thinking to the back of your head, you instead opted to amuse yourself with the shenanigans of the past few days as you waited.

You had, for one, been cooking almost non-stop for your boys ever since your return: breakfast, lunch, dinner, dessert and snacks. Unusual, certainly, and you didn’t have to of course: no one was forcing you to, even if your clingy trio had the strongest pouty faces and watery eyes you knew, but you did feel like you had to make it up to them for all the worry. You did however get a lot of amusement attempting to send them to the supermarket with a grocery list.

And then there was the matter of Sanzu and the residue guilt that you couldn’t shake off. Sure, this Sanzu was not the same as the pink-haired man from the future with the crazy eyes, but you still wanted to put things right. Consoling yourself that even if it did change the future, a Sanzu that you were on amicable terms on was much better than dealing with someone that absolutely hated your guts for reasons beyond you, and apologizing in advance never caused any harm. It did take a lot of pleading, cajoling and outright bribery, but you finally manage to get Mikey and Draken to reluctantly agree to allow you to meet with the Fifth Division Vice Captain, though the two did remain very suspicious of how you knew the other.

Your lips were sealed from any further details, and you said your apologies and your thanks without giving out much information to the confusion of the boy with the mask, though thankfully for everyone involved, the meeting went rather uneventfully. Much to your dismay, the other was most likely forbidden from speaking to you, simply opting to listen quietly and then nodding at the end of your rambling, but you didn’t want to give him any more trouble - you didn’t trust your boys’ usual excuse that Sanzu was just quiet by nature and didn’t like to talk; they have been using that excuse for years by now. At least, you comforted yourself, you did manage to slip him another bag of karaage while a pouting Mikey was distracted.

You breathed out, watching another car whizz by as you took a sip from the bottle of iced tea. Beaded sweat that clung to your hair was dabbed off with a handkerchief, the humidity of the already hot afternoon only rising as the rain-laden clouds, gray from their load, rolled threateningly closer.

ㅤ

Glancing at your watch, you decided that it had been a long enough period of time for you to venture back into the small shop, the plastic bag hanging from your wrist rustling as you stood - your delinquent friend should be about done by now. But all you managed to take was a single step before you were quickly stopped once more. “Oh-” You blinked, shaking off the surprise, the black of the other’s shirt that you ran into momentarily blocking your entire field of vision. “I’m so sorry! I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

An annoyed tsk was all you earned it seemed as you quickly moved aside, and as your gaze was raised from the ground to meet the other, your obstacle was quickly revealed to be a boy with streaked yellow and blue hair, pierced violet eyes staring down at you through the circle lens of gold-rimmed glasses. A face you didn’t recognize from anywhere, not even the future. One that you would usually apologize again, write to the back of your mind, and then quickly move on to avoid any trouble, though the trailing blood leaking from the other’s nose and the bruises that decorated his face made you pause. “You’re hurt! Are you okay?”

”Fuck off.”

You didn’t let that bother you. “Don’t worry,” you assured, showing the other the scar left on your palm back from when you tried to save Ken-chin from that knife attack. “I’m a professional.”

That seemed to confuse the boy enough for you to leap into action as his violet eyes looked bewilderedly between the small mark and your confident gaze. Whipping open your bag, you produced a small bottle of ointment and a few bandages, basic supplies that you always kept on hand for your own delinquent boys. “What’s your name?” You asked cheerfully as you ever so gently dabbed the dark spots before sticking a bandage over.

“Rindo,” the boy answered. You replied with your own name, and that was that.

Carefully rinsing and repeating your procedure with each bruise till you were done (you were rather surprise he let you, if you were being honest), you passed him a tissue for his nose after with strict instructions to blow out the blood and not swallow it.

The other obediently held the tissue to his nose without complaints, as if silently asking if you were done now and to leave him alone. Not that you noticed, too busy rummaging through the convenience store plastic bag and retrieving a wrapped piece of taiyaki, to which you pressed it into his hand. “Here! For you,” you lifted your own open drink. “Sorry, I only bought one drink.”

The ring of the convenience store door opening again was a bell that cut off any further conversations, and you waved a short bye to your newfound friend before rushing over to meet an exiting and very grumpy Baji.

ㅤ

Once more separated from you by simple time, the gunshot shattered the tension weighing down the freezing air of the refrigerated warehouse, finally silencing the annoying muffled begging as the bullet cleaved through flesh as effortlessly as a butcher’s knife through tuna. A click as the used shell was expelled, yet hushness was quick to fall once more over the warehouse despite the area being far from empty. Mikey exhaled, his warm breath leaving a trail of fog behind in the cold air even as the man simply continued to stare blankly ahead, abyss eyes fixed on some unknown spot off from where the traitor’s head had been just a minute earlier, gun lowered to hang limply by his side.

A stone’s throw away, unusually alert green eyes framed by long pink lashes remained trained on the unmoving Mikey, the corners of Sanzu’s scarred mouth remained downturned as he contemplated what he had just witnessed. Far from the blood and death that bothered the made man, it was rather the sight of Mikey being there amidst the pooling blood instead of him, Bonten’s Hammer. After all, it was rare - unheard of - for the boss to personally bloody his hands with the dirty work, yet this was far from being the first instance of such an exception happening this week alone, be it to rivals, traitors or Bonten members alike. There had been several close calls for even the executives where the various members had found themselves at the business end of Mikey’s gun, Sanzu included, though fortunately there hadn’t been any accidental deaths yet.

And it was clear they remembered the past week’s incidents, Bonten’s Number Two breaking from his thoughts to throw an accusatory glance Kakucho’s way, given how everyone else was happy to let the boss stew, content with their quiet observation from a safe distance. Said black-haired man returned Sanzu’s icy look with a shrug that said everything: no one was too sure what was going to accidentally set Mikey off next, and with how trigger happy the man has been in the past few days, no one was quite keen to find out either.

Which left only Sanzu to do the job - the same man who had just been discharged from hospital after committing the ultimate sin and still very much neck deep in Mikey’s shit list - but still the only person left willing to risk his life. And he didn’t even have any drugs left - that shithead of a doctor in Bonten’s infirmary ward had confiscated his own stash on top of denying him any painkillers. Traitors, the whole lot of them.

The soles of Sanzu’s handcrafted shoes crunched atop the icy floor as he hesitantly took a few steps in the direction of his king.“Mikey?”

No response. Not a twitch.

The white-haired man seemed to barely even be breathing, lost to the breaking world in his mind. And there was no doubt about what caused this spiral. After all, it had been a mere three nights since you disappeared from his arms. Four days since Mikey had completely stopped eating or sleeping; and the few times Sanzu had caught the other nodding off for a few minutes before something wretched him back awake once more didn’t count. Short stubble dotting his chin, his mob of white, uncombed hair unkept atop his head, and still dressed in the same days-old clothes, it was as if he had ceased to function completely, and it was because of you that Sanzu’s king was rotting away, perishing before his eyes. A ruthless, cold man Mikey was as the head of the largest criminal syndicate in Japan, but twelve long years apart and for him to have only a taste of his darling you before some unknown force wretched you away from him again; it was as if the spark to keep slugging onwards had finally been extinguished from the broken man, and the strongman facade was starting to crack.

Despite the pink-haired man’s continued disdain for you, he understood, but there was nothing more he could do. Every available resource at Bonten’s disposal had already been committed to combing every inch of Tokyo, and all they could do now was wait. Letting out a sigh, Sanzu closed the distance, taking the few steps that brought him elbow to elbow with the boss, with just a couple of inches between the two. “Mikey? You alright?” He tried again.

Silence once more blanketed the area as his words drifted off and died, the freezing air in the refrigerated warehouse thick and heavy and hard to breathe. Off in the distance, Rindo shivered from behind the seat of a forklift, the chill finally getting to the younger of the Haitani brothers, but the world still fell silent.

At least this time Mikey did react, though not to Sanzu, the Bonten boss simply turning away from his right hand man, slippers making nay a sound as he padded away towards the exit, body listing from side to side with every step. “Ah, is it?” The ragged whisper that fell from Mikey’s lips seemed to echo louder than the earlier gunshot, unsteady steps threatening to give way under the man’s frail frame as he muttered to himself. “It was me? I see.”

All Sanzu could do was watch and grimace, hand moving to grip the bottom of his striped vest, knuckles turning white from his tight, frustrated clench. Mikey wasn’t speaking to any of the executives present, no, but to you: the whispering, taunting version of you that lived rent-free in Mikey’s hallucinations and delusions. Like a ghost that refused to depart, your shade haunting the white-haired man’s every move despite your absence, staying just beyond his grasp yet so mockingly close - who knew what kind of vicious words you were tormenting him with?

Even as he still questioned what had led to his intense dislike of you in the first place, he knew that the real you would never do such a thing, especially considering the tenderness with which he had previously witnessed you holding Mikey’s bony hand with. Definitely not to Mikey, but that was a matter for a different time. Shaking his head to clear his mind, the second-in-command tuned out those nagging voices, letting out a sigh that instantly fogged up into a cloud of white fog as he turned his attention back on the unstable man in front of him. Truly, having to live with this amount of clarity at all times was painful.

ㅤ

One step wrongly placed, and time felt as if it came to a crawl as Mikey’s slipper failed to get a grasp on the thin layer of ice that coated the cement tiles, the already lethargic man looked as if he would be meeting the ground under his own weakened legs, white hair streaming out behind the Bonten boss as he descended.

Sanzu moved. “Wait Mikey, you’re-” Calloused hands shot out in an attempt to catch his falling king, though it seemed too little too late, that signature black shirt brushing past the tips of his fingers.

But in that instant, the former up-and-coming delinquent was quicker, a speed reminiscent of his glory days as Toman’s President as he caught himself with little difficulty. “Don’t you fucking touch her,” the guttural growl reverberated across the tin-roofed building, and in one smooth move, the black pistol whipped around to lined straight up with the centre of Sanzu’s forehead, the black, heavy eyebags that clung to the bottom of Mikey’s eyes scrunching up as his gaze narrowed dangerously.

The world held its breath as green eyes met abyss ones.

A second ticked by.

A bead of sweat gathered along Sanzu’s pink hairline despite the freezing temperature, trickling down the side of his face. Was this it?

Another second.

Perhaps it was a mere moment of recognition that glimmered behind those exhausted eyes to which clung black, heavy eyebags, perhaps it was your specter taking pity on him, saving him from what was an unenviable fate. Whatever it had been, the heaved sigh of relief that slipped out from Sanzu’s scarred lips started his world spinning once more as the barrel of the gun was lowered, the other’s bony arm shaking from the effort of holding up the pistol. He hadn’t been sure if Mikey would squeeze the trigger, and even though he wouldn’t have been too angry to die by his liege’s hands, it was far from the right time to leave the other to those spiralling thoughts. He did, after all, swear an oath to keep the former Toman President safe; he had for all this time and he will continue to do so, even if it meant keeping Mikey safe from himself.

The palpable stillness persisted as seven pairs of various colored eyes watched Mikey turn once more to leave, soundless steps reverberating through the tense air as his abnormally delicate figure grew smaller and smaller until it finally disappeared behind the half-open warehouse door, long tendrils of cold fog lazily trailing out after him.

Running one hand through his mob of pink hair, Sanzu took a glance around at the rest of the executives present as a silent grumble slipped his lips; it was rare to see anything but amusement on the faces of these usually desensitized criminals, and even rarer for everyone present to be of the same thought. And if it had been anything but this conundrum, the pink-haired second in command wouldn’t have wasted any time in giving it to them for showing such useless emotions. But with the quickly deteriorating state of their boss as the hours and days go by and no sign of your return or your presence anywhere, there was little they could do but watch with concern as Mikey wasted away.

Despite the already ongoing search looking non-stop for you, all day and all night, a tightening knot at the base of his gut combined with a nagging feeling told Sanzu that they were unlikely to find you anywhere, his mind instantly leaping back to the pounding headache and the change in his memory back when he awoke in the infirmary four days ago. Why did he stop hating you with every fiber of his being previously? How did you do that? No matter what the others said, there was definitely something off about his sudden change of heart with regards to you, Sanzu knew without doubt, and he would get to the bottom of this.

For now, what he needed to figure out was what combination of begging and groveling would be enough to get Mikey to at least accept some water.

ㅤ

Yet just three hours later, Mikey’s situation had already taken a turn for the worse. Four days without food, let alone sleep, would do anyone in, and even the once undefeated Toman President was no exception. Now standing alone, consumed by the darkness of the last untrodden area in Bonten headquarters, Sanzu knew he was breaking every rule worth remembering, doing something so explicitly forbidden by his king. But as he rummaged through mostly empty cupboards and amidst the little belongings owned by the infinitely wealthy yakuza boss in a bid to find something, anything that could help, the black hole of spiraling thoughts that encompassed the events of the past thirty minutes overriding any awareness he had the items passing through his hands.

After all, it had been him who had come across Mikey, his near-skeletal figure sprawled unconscious across plush carpets halfway down Executive Row, just meters away from the worn white door of his bedroom. It had been him who had scooped the man into his arms and rushed him down to the infirmary, grimly noting how the man weighed barely anything. And it had also been him, on his knees and his forehead to the ground, pleading with a conscious Mikey to allow the doctor to administer a fluid IV, only for the other to reject his fervent imploring with a simple turn of his head, those exhausted abyss eyes breaking from his teary green ones wordlessly to stare blankly at the ceiling. Because no words needed to be said for Sanzu to know what the boss demanded: he would accept nothing less than your return and your cooking.

Despite the white-haired man not being present, allowing the light from the hallway outside to pour into the usually unilluminated room - the gloom and morbidness just as Mikey likes it - felt too much like the discretion of such a sacred space to the ever-loyal Sanzu, though this did leave him to conduct his hunt with just the sliver of light that sipped in from under the door. The cold sweat that gathered and pooled on his palms was hastily wiped away on striped pants as the usually high second-in-command attempted to focus back on his searching, green eyes scanning around in a desperate attempt to find something that could help, a clue that could point to where you were, anything.

This was all your fault. Was there nothing he could do but let fate play out?

It was only as Sanzu threw up his arms in exasperation did a glimmer from the furthest end of the room catch the corner of his eye; the small amount of light that reflected back seemed to sparkle even in the dark. The faintest shimmer of gold. What was that? A cautious few steps revealed the source to be a school bag - your school bag, judging from the neatly written name on the tag - that you had failed to take with you for whatever reason. And more importantly, hanging from the front of the bag from a zipper was that notorious purple-and-gold onomori that had him recoil his hand as if burnt.

No doubt it was the same one that still haunted his every step, one that marked you as off-limits all those years ago on the threat of torture and death. Yet -

The Bonten man reached out, gripping the onomori with one fist. He vaguely remembered something from many years ago, maybe twelve or more, when you first disappeared, when you first gave him that bag of karaage. He had been the one to find your charm, and if his scrambled memory hasn’t failed him, the simple of act of picking up this charm had summoned you out of thin air. Though after holding it for a rough five minutes, Sanzu sighed, undoing the simple note that kept the charm tied to your bag before standing. He probably just dreamt that particular one up during one of his highs.

Still, the man noted as he wrapped the small item ever so carefully in a clean handkerchief and tucked it into his breast pocket, it was probably precious to Mikey. Something to lift his spirits a bit maybe, if it did nothing else - anything that would keep his king going until you could be located.

And pressing it into said man’s weak hand later, and watching the charm disappear under sterile white blankets as Mikey retracted his thin arm, it was all too clear to Sanzu that the other was running out of time. If they don't find you soon, Mikey dies.

Turning to leave his boss to his thoughts, the right-hand man decided that he didn’t quite enjoy all the stress. He could use a smoke about now.

ㅤ

The sight of the empty lot where your school building formerly sat brought that familiar gut-sinking feeling back to your abdomen, one that you didn’t think you would be feeling again. Running one hand through your hair, you let a sigh escape your lips. You were back in the future again, it seems. Whether this was the same future or a different one, or even if you had skipped ahead the same number of years was something that was beyond you at the moment, and you had even less on you this time then the previous incident, having been caught in your literal pajamas right as you were about to head to bed. Which came with a secondary problem, one that you found by simply looking up - it was still the middle of night.

The neighborhood where your school once was was silent as it always was at this time of day, with most students and adults alike usually asleep by this time of day. Slipping your phone out from your pocket, you noted that the battery was dead once more: was it just a side effect of the time leaping?

Patting down the rest of your pajamas only confirmed that you had none of your house keys on you unlike your previous experience, which only meant that you wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. Though heading back home wouldn’t be a bad idea if this was still the same timeline, and your feet started to carry you down familiar paths once more. Yes, you were sure at least someone would know you were back if you waited by the front door.

ㅤ

Takemichi let out an exasperated grunt, ruffling his hands through his hair. He had been back and forth from the future twice in the last four days alone, plus that disaster meeting with Draken, and nothing. No clues, no progress, nothing. You were still nowhere to be found. Kicking a stone down empty roads, the former Toman delinquent felt truly helpless for the first time. If his time leaping ability was being overridden by yours, then there was no point to what he was putting himself through - he couldn’t change the future until they could figure out how to stop yours.

And that meant…

The black-haired man shook his head vigorously in an attempt to stop his thoughts from going down that beckoning abyss. No, he couldn’t give up now. Taking a deep breath, Takemichi looked up, fists clenched determined by his side.

It was the middle of the night now, and the streets were completely empty of souls, with the exception of him wandering down aimlessly. In the distant, an occasional rumble of the engine of a passing vehicle, though none passed his way. But Naoto had mentioned that this area was where your school once stood, plus you lived not too far away as well, and therefore if you were really a time leaper, then there was a high chance this was the place you would return to. It made sense, Takemichi agreed, but this was already the umpteeth time he had searched.

Pulling one hand down his face, a flash of hair in the distance caught the man’s eye before it quickly disappeared behind a wall, too fast for him to even register. That looked like…you? Was that a hallucination?

A quick jog forward took Takemichi to the bend in the street, but when he looked round the corner, whatever trace of whoever it had been walking the roads was already gone.

ㅤ

Across the bustling city of Tokyo, Rindo froze mid-step.

Yet the sudden lack of movement was lost on Ran. The evening traffic had yet to let up outside, the rumbling of cars and the occasional horn cutting through the unnatural silence that hung inside the tiny shop tucked just a street away from the main road, though it was precisely the quietness that had carried with it the promise of an earlier rest. Careful to avoid dirtying his shoes with blood, the older Haitani had already made his way to the exit, suit jacket casually swung over one shoulder, gun tucked away safely and out of his side under his vest. “Let’s head straight back to base, Rindo,” Ran groaned, running one hand through his short purple hair only to grimace upon realizing that said hand was caked with someone else’s blood. Today was really not going his way. “You can grab a drink at the rooftop bar or something, I don’t know.”

Yanking the front door open with a grunt, said Bonten executive didn’t stop to hear if there was a response from his younger brother, instead opting to step straight out and back onto the narrow side alley, the buzzing streetlight overhead as if a welcome back from the grim of that filthy store and its dead, traitorous owner. Taking a breath of the comparatively better smelling air outside, Ran stuffed his hands into the pockets of his pants, pulling out a sole crumpled cigarette and a handful of change - but no lighter. Not even a match. Fuck this fucking disgusting job.

Ran turned, hand already outstretched. “Rindo, do you have a light -” And it was only then did it hit him that his brother had not followed him out. Rindo was still in the store for some goddamn reason, and he had to go back in there. The feared mafia officer sighed. This had better be important.

Alas, he spoke too soon.

“I think my memories just changed,” was seemingly all that Rindo could bring himself to mumble at the chime that came with the opening door, the man with the long purple hair still standing by the row of unpowered display refrigerators where Ran had last seen him, violet eyes staring down at the blood pooling around the cooling bodies sprawled on the floor. The stench of iron didn’t seem to bother the younger Haitani, too caught up in his jumbled mind as Rindo tried to make head or tail of what had just happened.

Ran, however, was far from impressed, simply propping both his hands on his hips and raising one eyebrow at that statement. “Did you get into Sanzu’s drug stash?”

The sheer vileness of that statement alone was enough to shake Rindo out from his own little world, with said man snapping straight back into reality ready for a fight. “How dare you-” the younger of the two let out a cough, the sudden thick smell of death and blood that made itself known to his previously oblivious nostrils choking up his airway momentarily. “How dare you say that.”

“Well, what else am I supposed to say when you talk dumb shit?”

“It’s not dumb shit, fuck you Ran! My memories changed!” Rindo insisted, carelessly stepping over the bodies at his feet, Ran wincing at the blood splattering up and all over his brother’s shoes. That would be a pain to clean later.

But still, the older Haitani led the way back outside and into the fresher air of the alleyway, before turning around to better understand the situation his dear brother seemed to have found himself in. “Alright, if not pink pills, then what happened?”

Rindo himself still seemed to be struggling to make head or tail of what had just happened, letting out a groan as the man with the long purple hair rubbed his temple with one hand. “It was after we shot those two inside. All of a sudden, my head felt like it was about to explode for a second, and I suddenly knew…stuff. Things that I didn’t know before."

“Like what?”

“You know you were telling me about Mikey’s girl earlier?”

“Uh huh.”

“I’ve never met her, and before the job, I couldn’t tell you what color her hair was. I can pick her out from a line of schoolgirls now.”

“Oh.”

Violet eyes met each other, and as if on instinct, both men thought back to the Bonten infirmary just days earlier, where an eerily similar sentence had been muttered. Sanzu. Ran sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “So it wasn’t the drugs.” This day was just getting worse and worse. “Let’s head back and sync up.”

“Sure,’ Rindo shrugged, scratching the back of his head as he nonchalantly followed his older brother, the purple-haired duo stepping out onto the busy main street and blending into the crowd, blood splattered shoes a distant thought. “I do remember her being pretty nice though.”

Ran raised an eyebrow, as he absentmindedly fiddled with his earring. “Pretty nice or pretty and nice?”

The younger Haitani audibly tsked, raising one leg to kick at the other’s. “You know what I said.”

ㅤ

The lighter, joky mood that the brothers shared didn’t last past their return to Bonten HQ, much to Ran’s disappointment, the usually silent place abuzz with a rare, panic atmosphere. Men and women alike dressed in neatly pressed suits rushing every which way, the small bulge under their suit jacket where their guns were strapped to an unspoken reminder of where they were - no doubt the communicators fixed to their ears were all but alight with barked orders and updates. Casually grabbing a passing grunt, it took a mere moment and single shouted objection for the poor soul to realize who exactly had grabbed him by the back of his shirt, the purple and green striped suits too iconic to be mistaken. “Ah- oh, Haitani-sama.”

“What’s going on?” Ran didn’t need to see through those dark sunglasses to see the other’s shifty look: the nameless Bonten grunt was definitely contemplating the chance of him being dead within the next five minutes as opposed to the next hour.

”Uh-“

Rindo reached threateningly into the depths of his suit, and sweat began to pour off the other’s forehead. “You know,” the younger of the two Haitanis started. “I’ve had a really bad day.”

”No, please, Haitani-sama, I’m not sure-“

Fortunately for all three men involved, the interrogation was brought to quick and uneventful close with the appearance of an all-too familiar mob of pink hair just as Rindo pulled a lollipop out to pop into his mouth. The grunt was let go to scramble off as both sets of violet eyes snapped to the unusual sight of Sanzu impatiently tapping his foot soundlessly against the plush carpet of the foyer, smoking cigarette held between scarred lips as the man looked around before glancing once more at his watch.

A smirk instantly began to pull at Ran’s lips as he stuffed both hands into the pockets of his pants, strolling over. “Oh Sanzu~”

“I’m busy,” came the other’s curt reply, green eyes looking Ran up and down a mere moment before turning away.

”We know, we know,” the man with the short purple hair pacified. “It’s just that-“

Rindo quickly butted in, having closely followed his older brother over. It was clear that Sanzu, far from his usual drugged up and easily bullied state, actually had things to do and places to be. “My memories changed.”

Sanzu’s unusually alert gaze slid over once more to meet Rindo’s, and it seemed the severity of what the younger Haitani said set in quickly as his eyes steeled. “Mine did too. Again,” the Bonten second-in-command disclosed, though he said no more as the glass doors of the foyer slid open and Kakucho stepped out, gloved hand lightly touching where his gun was strapped to his chest under his jacket. “We’ll talk about this later. House alarm tripped again.”

Ah, your little pick-up party, Ran noted from the side, watching the two top Bonten executives slip effortlessly into a black, featureless car that quickly pulled away from the compound. So you were back - and your arrival must have something to do with the changing memories.

How interesting.

ㅤ

Across town, Draken cursed out loud as his feet flew over concrete paths down empty streets. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You were a fucking time leaper.

He had been working late on a client’s bike as he always did, the closed garage a quiet refuge after the hustle of the normal work day. The headache had hit him like a clap of thunder, with his brain feeling it was pressing up against his skull; and memories of twelve years past suddenly started to flood back, a recollection he couldn’t control. But they were all memories that he didn’t previously have, freshly added memories: some of your reappearance in his past, some of a fight he never recalled having with the other Toman founders, and most importantly, memories of you telling them what had happened.

It changed him, Draken admitted. It gave him a renewed hope that he didn’t remember possessing, that they might be able to fix this entire mess, that you were somewhere out there. All this time you were missing - it was true. You couldn’t control it like you had admitted. But if the past him still had that onomori, then why were you back in the future?

Turning a corner, a quick step aside was the only thing that kept him from running straight into someone else, though those fast, honed reflexes also almost had Draken swinging his fist into an all-too familiar face.

Baji was panting as if he had ran a full marathon, his apron half undone and left swinging from his neck, his hand clutching his open phone. It seemed like the other Toman founder had been struck with the same revelations, Draken determined, judging from the half-dressed state he was in.

And then those two fateful words tumbled from Baji’s lips. “Time leaper.”

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newtthetranswriter · 4 months

Note

Would you do a fluff with a hint of angst Chifuyu request of Chifuyu being extra clingy and affection with his s/o after Takemichi tells him the truth about their future and tells him his future wife (aka his current girlfriend) is also killed by Kisaki? Also feel free to make it gender neutral if you’d prefer!

(Art by me)

A/n: Hello anon, I love this idea. I hope I did it justice, and I hope you enjoy it. I hope it’s okay that I made the reader Mitsuya’s younger sister, it just felt like it fit for the way it was going. Feel free to request more or just chat. I hope you have a good day and remember to hydrate or diedrate. Requests are still open.

Word count:881

Paring: Chifuyu Matsuno x Mitsuya!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of canon death, not great clingy writing from an arospec person

To say Chifuyu was stunned was an understatement. He just found out that in the future not only is he married to his current girlfriend but they are killed at the hands of Kisaki. Multiple feelings were running through his head, happiness and joy that he and Y/n worked out even twelve years from now, but also sadness that his loyalty to the true vision of Toman gets her killed. What was he supposed to do? He could break up with her and save her from being stuck with him or he could help Takemichi stop Kisaki. Yeah that sounded like a good plan, just stop Kisaki instead of coming up with a shit lie to end a perfect relationship.

Chifuyu was pulled from his thoughts when Takemichi spoke again. “You can’t tell anyone. Who knows what it would do to the future.” He stated like it wasn’t obvious. “I honestly shouldn’t have told you, it all just slipped out.”

Calming his freaked friend, Chifuyu spoke. “Don’t worry I won’t tell anyone, they’d call me crazy if I went around spouting about the future. Let’s go get some food, and figure out a plan, Ok?” He asked, still shaken from the information but trying to push down his anxieties about it all.

After discussing plans with Takemichi, they decided that at the Captain’s meeting, Takemichi would try to bribe Mikey into not letting Hakkai leave Toman, Chifuyu bid his friend good night and head home. Once home he sent a quick text to his girlfriend, nothing crazy just an ‘I love you, and hope you have a good night’. Now on the other end of the text conversation, Y/n was confused, sure a good night text was normal, but why that phrasing their conversations were normally just quick and shortened texts because let’s be honest texting on these phones sucked. Brushing off the confusion, y/n responded with her own simple ‘good night’ and fell asleep, after all Chifuyu was probably just being clingy, he did lose a close friend a month ago so it’s fine.

The next day before the Captain’s meeting, Chifuyu opted to invite Y/n out for a lunch date. Y/n wanting to spend time with her boyfriend happily agreed, meeting him at their normal lunch cafe.

“Hey Fuyu, not that I don’t love the spontaneity, but what’s with the random lunch date? Isn’t there a captain’s meeting today?” She asked as they entered the cafe. Y/n was in the loop with everything Toman, not only was she dating the vice captain of the first division, but she’s also the second division captain’s younger sister.

“Uhhh, yeah there is. I just wanted to spend some time with you beforehand.” Chifuyu responded, grabbing her hand. He led her over to the counter quickly ordering their usuals and paying before she could protest. Once their order was placed they walked over to a booth in a back corner to sit and chat.

As Y/n took her spot on one side of the booth, she was confused as Chifuyu slid in right next to her, normally when it was just the two of them they sat across from each other, so this was odd. “Chifuyu, why are you sitting there?” She asked, trying to understand his weird behavior.

He just shrugged and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “So how has school been going?” He asked, trying to shift the topic from his random clingy behavior.

They spent the next hour chatting about random things and enjoying their lunch. But Y/n couldn’t help but notice that no matter what was happening Chifuyu always had a hand somewhere on her, whether it was his arm across her shoulders while they talked or his hand brushing her leg as they ate. She didn’t want to seem put off by the affection so she once again brushed it off as still being clingy after Baji passed. It was harder not to question it when they were leaving. Normally at the end of a date they would share a quick kiss and hug, before going their separate ways if they hadn’t planned to do more, but it seemed like Chifuyu didn’t want to let her go.

“You need to go, you have that meeting to go to.” Y/n said, gently pushing Chifuyu off her. He hesitated for only a second longer before releasing her, pulling away with what Y/n would describe as a sad smile making her concerned. “Are you ok? What’s wrong?” She asked cupping his cheeks.

Chifuyu just kept smiling and brushing her hands with his. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just love you so much.” He said getting ready to leave.

Y/n just looked at him confused for a second, before chuckling. “Love you too, now go before Taka calls me asking why I’m keeping you from the meeting.” Chifuyu let out a laugh at that, placing a final kiss to her cheek and running off. She was left standing in front of the cafe staring after her boyfriend’s retreating figure. Sure he was acting a little strange, but you know what, she would take a clingy Chifuyu over a distant Chifuyu any day of the week, so she’ll let it slide for now.

#x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #chifuyu matsuno x reader #chifuyu x reader #tokyo rev x reader #angsty fluff #answering requests

85 notes · View notes

guav · 2 years

Text

ᥫ᭡ for mikey, kazutora, and shinichiro,

WHY NOT ME?

tokyo revengers characters + unrequited love

⚠︎ angst! and really really depressing thoughts in some! please proceed with caution. also, they're all set in bonten timeline except for shinichiro bc. :skull:

⠀◉⠀SANO MANJIRO

the love he can't have

it’s quiet in the entirety of bonten’s headquarters for once.

the brothers had long-since left to check on one of their clubs, more to find someone to warm their bed than to oversee transactions. mochi clocked out soon after, followed by sanzu with a glock in his hand and his car’s keys in the other. naturally, takeomi trailed after his narcotic brother, a wave for goodnight as he departed. lastly, kakucho called it a night following mikey’s permission, ever the subordinate offering his boss a ride home.

only the treasurer and number one remained in the building.

a simple glance at his calendar made mikey’s stomach churn. out of nervousness? dread? he’ll never know. the date ridiculed him from its place on the wall, february twenty-ninth. it’s a leap year, meaning at around three in the morning, when everyone’s left, kokonoi knocks on his door four times.

laptop and manila folder tucked under one arm, a bottle of wine on the other.

mikey doesn’t bother to greet his executive. he never does on nights like these. nights where phantoms dig around his ribcage for whatever semblance of a heart he’s got left. february twenty-ninth, the date on which kokonoi and manjiro do a little digging into their past regrets.

“seems ryuguji owns the bike shop now, they both work with him now.” kokonoi takes a seat, busying himself with opening the bottle of liquor. “would’ve never guessed they were interested in working as a mechanic.”

you never were. in fact, mikey can recall endless afternoons where you’d whine over whatever the fuck a muffler was. the only time your interest aligned with tuning his bike was to brand the manji symbol on it.

artistic doesn’t line up with engineer, but neither do his past aspirations and the tattoo on the back of his head. you reap what you sow.

mikey turned to face kokonoi, exhausted stare settling on the folder. a brief thought crosses his mind, something about cats and their unfortunate deaths when indulging in curiosity. too bad he cared too little. manjiro made a move to open the folder, but was stopped by another hand. hajime slid him a glass of wine—maybe curiosity killed the cat, maybe the cat just needed a drink.

“inupi’s name is on the lease along with ryuguji’s,” had he had a heart, mikey would empathize with the burning ache seishu’s name left on koko’s mouth. one finger taps the pictures inside the folder. it's you, dash of grease adorning your cheek. “they aren’t formally employed though, i checked the records.”

mikey stared at the close-up images inside the folder, golden ring on your finger blinding him enough to drown out the treasurer's words.

twelve years ago, mikey made an oath to himself. a promise to safeguard the future of everyone he’s ever loved and cared for. twelve years ago, mikey also gave up on the only person who’s managed to quell the murk lurking within. around a hundred and forty-four months have passed since sano manjiro gave up on his other half.

shinichiro would ruffle his hair, of all people he would know there’s always more fish in the sea. emma would call the eldest sano stupid. true love is prized—meant to be, despite the hardships.

both of his siblings could argue endlessly over love and whether it’s best to chase after it or move on. yet, surprisingly, it was manjiro who knew the best out of the three.

he couldn’t be selfish, not when he chose to pave this path himself. not when you cried, screamed in absolute terror the day he pummeled every single ex-toman member. not when that fateful evening, mikey saw you flinch away from him, in fear you were next.

be as it may, it hurts. twists his organs and drowns his trachea with a knot of flowers. it hurts because he has tokyo within his palm (probably a few other cities in his wallet, too), and yet he can’t have who he truly desires.

why can’t he just have one thing?

sano manjiro was a wretched criminal with a bleeding heart. daffodil chokehold, never-ending february.

the next picture in the folder made his void of a mind stop for a moment. subsequent, mikey finally nursed the glass to his lips, sipping domaine romanée conti’s finest glasses of wine. once, twice, thrice, until the bottle was no more.

he can’t be selfish to allow himself to love, he reflects while closing the folder. and it’s okay, because you and kenchin had cute kids anyway.

⠀◉⠀HANEMIYA KAZUTORA

the love he allows to wither and shrivel

"you're unbelievable, way to ditch last minute.” he doesn’t miss the whispered asshole that slips past your lips when you end the call. kazutora flicks ash off his cigarette, wide gaze lost on your figure.

observing, scrutinizing, analyzing—it’s all in the syllabus of his day-to-day. every little gesture of yours is a buoy kazutora holds dear. months of pining have granted him enough knowledge to know you’re not actually mad at chifuyu, dead man who just skipped on movie night with the two of you. he knows you’re anxious, if the fiddling with your phone case is anything to go by. breathing patterns, foot taps—there’s something on your mind.

“sometimes i get the feeling chifuyu does this on purpose,” as you speak, kazutora wonders if your voice is anything but a symphony. “leaving us alone ‘n that.”

he knows that’s always been chifuyu’s intention. so do you.

truthfully, hanemiya kazutora is madly in love with you. the shine you exude when there’s a new kitten to nurse, the grin that stretches your face when you’re drunk and telling an awful joke. infatuation, obsession, no word will ever truly capture how he feels.

you’re oxygen for a man who’s been breathing methane his entire life. forbidden fruit, temptation in the flesh.

“‘tora,” god, he wants nothing more than to be the only man who gets to hear his name reverb in your voice. “we can still watch those shitty blockbusters, it’d just be us though.” alone, you purposely forget to add.

when your eyes meet his, kazutora’s breathing pauses. his smoke keeps burning, time doesn’t halt. “sounds like a plan?”

the cigarette meets his lips for a long drag. kazutora is madly in love with you, and for that same reason, he swore to never tell you.

everything about yourself equals heaven on earth; lips that can express so much with a simple twist and grin, touch so familiar and comforting you might as well be his home; gaze ever-so loving.

… but he can see his reflection in your eyes. inevitably, every single time you grip his arm for balance, or tuck stray hair behind his ears, everything you encompass becomes corrupt. hanemiya kazutora is evil, poison for your soul.

his hands weigh two lives, yours are eros incarnate. whatever salvation you have to offer isn't something he deserves. not now, not ever.

so kazutora does what he knows best. eternal solitude tastes salty, like sumberging into the very trenches of the ocean each time the bad thoughts win. bound by chains of sano ichor, cuffs of baji. evil forever sealed to not hurt anyone else ever again. an apologetic smile is the best he can offer without overstepping his own punishment. “sorry, forgot i had plans with hanagaki.”

you visibly deflate. kazutora is a liar. “have fun third wheeling his dinner date, today’s his anniversary with tachibana.”

sharpened diction barely nick kazutora’s heart. he can live with you hating him as long as there’s a happy ending for you. between white and gray lies, the cost of preserving your innocence is worth every trial; every frown he wants to wipe to save you from early wrinkles; every pout he can only wish to kiss away.

ash gathers on his smoke again. it’s okay to break your heart mercilessly than to subject you to losing it entirely by his side. he flicks it away, nescient for the flares it sends flying.

a stray spark landing on your skin is collateral damage you’re too familiar with. no longer is there a need to hiss in pain, or even let kazutora know he’s hurting you in more ways than one. you’ve played this game.

not an admission of guilt, nor an apology. simply silence. years of putting up with the dual-colored enigma have taught you better than to blow up and light the sky with endless quarrel. rather, you burn, slowly. smolder the same way a long-forgotten candle can’t go out without a final blow. it hurts.

it hurts because when it’s just the two of you, hanemiya kazutora treats you like a stranger. eats away at your soul, burns the endless cigarette that’s become your friendship.

you turn to look at kazutora, wondering for a moment how fate could be ever-so cruel to hand someone like him your devotion, heart, and unrequited affection. do you not deserve love, too?

“whatever.”

he doesn’t protest when you rip the smoke from his fingers, or when you take it with you. he doesn’t lament when you walk away in silence, leaving only the tragedy that’s become of his mind to fend for itself in the dead of night.

kazutora can only hope, in his next life, he finds you before his torment finds him again.

⠀◉⠀SANO SHINICHIRO

the love that gets turned down

“shin-nii, are you a loser?” izana grimaced at the wrench barely missing his older brother’s foot. it’s pure curiosity which formulates the question. izana would never think anything ill of shinichiro, but word has it sano shinichiro is a hopeless lovefool.

word spread by you, ever the loving instigator. “look at him ‘zana, take a good look and tell me he isn't.”

the fact his own sibling laughs at your joke stabs a knife on his back. betrayed by both people he holds impossibly dear in his heart, such a tragedy. shinichiro scoffs, “i’m not, don’t let this asshole fill your head with lies.”

his poor excuse of a defense only sends the duo into another spiral of giggles, mocking both his stuttering and pink shade of embarrassment. it’s a domestic scene; you’re putting together screws and bolts for some repair shinichiro asked for your help with, and izana is sitting on some stray tire inside the shop. sure, you’re both pointing fingers at every one of his mishaps, but it’s still a nice evening in the repair shop.

(there’s no such thing he needs your help with, he just wants your presence next to him—each piece you assemble will be extra work to disassemble when you’re gone.)

both your careless smiles are gifts he’d fight tooth and nail for. shinichiro takes one last drag from his smoke before putting it out. “y’know, it’s a little unfair to poke fun at something you could very well fix.”

your giggles briefly simmer to make way for his remark. “what are you even talking about?”

with his signature grin, shinichiro turns to you. there’s an inevitable sense of dread when you see it. back when he’d still bear the cross as captain of the black dragons, the smile would only mean one of two things: one, he was about to charge in without a second thought of his inept battle skills, or two, shinichiro sano was about to say the most stupid of things.

“seriously, what's stopped us this entire time?” sweat and elbow grease frame his face until his arm comes to wipe them off. he’s dumb, you think, now his arm clads the very same stains. “let me take you on a date and prove i’m not just some loser.”

the knot in your throat recoils. your movements halt.

endless nights you’ve spent by his side. not in bed or merging into the other, but driving, extending your arms as if the stars would come closer and kiss your fingertips—existing in each other’s company. shinichiro is a great friend, from the way his heart always has spare room for everyone he meets, to the smell of tobacco that has long-since burnt the word love in your mind. it makes your stomach turn and coil in itself. makes you sick.

“say, izana,” your movements return to their previous pace. assembling mindlessly, over and over again. it’s a vicious cycle. “why dontcha fetch us some of those buns you like so much?”

both sano brothers stare as if a second head had sprouted from your shoulder. izana is the first to question your sudden craving, “like, right now?”

you waste no time tossing the kid your motorcycle’s keys, “knock yourself out.”

there’s no missing the stars in izana’s eyes as he bolts out the shop. once upon a time he would ask shinichiro for permission before going out, especially when you’d ask him for something. now you hold the same authority as his older brother—as if you’re already part of his small family. silence overtakes everything within the walls as izana’s footsteps patter further away.

shinichiro feels small under your eyes. “what’s wrong?”

how quickly your mood turns sour. the power this man has over you is a little concerning. you don’t stare in anger or disgust—crestfallen, heart gutted while still beating. “did you mean it?”

shinichiro is grateful his mind worked faster than his tongue this time around. a question of what you’re referring to quickly dies before it’s voiced. he retraces steps, movements, words, any clue as to what could have disrupted the haven within the shop. “the date thing?”

your silence answers his question. shinichiro takes a deep breath, “yeah, yeah i did.”

he hates the way your shoulders slump. he absolutely despises the ragged sigh that slips past your mouth.

had he done something wrong?

“i thought we had a good thing, shin.” memories of shibuya at its most vulnerable hours, empty streets, distant lights blurring into comets from shinichiro’s bike. the way one hand would sneak to caress yours during red lights. “why’d you have to go ruin it?”

shinichiro can feel the strings tugging at his heart. it’s a familiar sensation when it comes to rejection, but never had they been so harsh. shinichiro stays silent.

“come,” you ask of him, and he obeys like you’re holding his heart in your very own hand. in a way you are. shinichiro walks the tightrope, pulse quickening under your unforgiving stare. “closer.”

for a brief moment warmth equals love. your hand cups his cheek and it’s the most comforting heat he’s felt in his life. white noise fills his ears at each of your breaths, he’s close enough to feel their warmth, too. it’s not long until it evolves into an uncomfortable burning, nothing about your frown equals love.

“nineteen times i’ve mended my heart watching you run from girl to girl, today makes the twentieth.” you trace figures on his face, no longer able to meet his coal eyes. not when they’re looking for answers, not when there’s heartbreak and confusion in them. “you swing and miss, then forget the next week.”

shinichiro wants to protest. they’re not the same as you. it’s different, he swears it’s different. a finger to his lips hush every thought he wants to voice. any defense is repealed.

“shinichiro, how long until you tire of me, too?”

“i won't-” he feels helpless as everything falls apart. “it’s not like that, i really do like you.”

you hum. shinichiro is a hopeless fool when it comes to love, and it hurts you’re next on his list. from strangers, to companions, to friends who hold hands and whisper secrets under the stars, to a faceless crush.

“i think i loved you yesterday,” you breathe the words, only for his ears to hear like a confession. “i don’t know about today, or tomorrow.” or ever again.

his eyebrows furrow. shinichiro can’t fight when you slip away, cheek already missing your touch. everything crumbles, all from a mindless declaration. he wonders how it all went wrong, wonders how something so mundane in his head could equal such anguish for you.

sano shinichiro wonders if he loved you the same way you loved him.

⠀⠀⠀⠀navi.⠀＆⠀m.list⠀＆⠀send me an ask!

#i heard a sad song and made it all of their problems #mikey x reader #kazutora x reader #shinichiro x reader #manjiro x reader #tr x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x reader #manjiro sano #kazutora hanemiya #shinichiro sano #mikey #ROGUEL1KE #tokyo revengers #tokyorev x reader

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neesieiumz · 1 year

Text

T.O.K.Y.O S.T.Y.L.E

synopsis ⇴ a single father, a new nanny and a delusional ex-fiancé. What could go wrong?

Summary ⇴ Ken Ryuguji, face of TOMAN MODELS AGENCY, is one of the top models in all of Japan. He’s also the father to the sweetest little girl named Ryoko Ryuguji. He’d do anything for her, including keeping the little one away from her manipulative mother. When Draken struggles with finding child care so Ryoko could know some sort of stability. Mitsuya comes to the rescue, contacting an old friend from college.

Writers note ⇴ new masterlist! this is the one that is going to be linked from now on. You'll have to give me a few days to replace all the links in each individual part!

00. profiles

profiles.001

profiles.002

CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

#neesiespeaks #black reader #draken x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers smau #draken x black!reader #draken x poc!reader #draken smut #draken x female reader #draken smau #tokyo revengers x y/n #draken tokyo revengers

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g0kotta · 2 years

Text

Bound 2

Mikey, Haitani Ran, Haitani Rindou, Shion Madarame x gn!reader

They fall for you

Bound to fall in love <3

Sano Manjiro

I know I got a bad reputation

Walking 'round, always mad reputation

He was a well known delinquent around Japan. Many already knew his last name, because of his older brother Shinichiro, but it was obvious how different they were. Mikey was ruthless, he didn’t care about anything and anyone. His main purpose in life was to create chaos and bring pain. While Shinichiro was a delinquent who cared about everyone. He did what made him happy and he tried to help out other’s as well. That’s why his death brought many to tears, Shinichiro was named as a legend which no one would ever forget.

But for Mikey.. People prayed for Mikey’s downfall and that should’ve been one of the biggest red flags for you. But you didn’t care about any of that. What you cared about was how he treated you. He saw you as an equal and promised to protect you with his whole life. He met you when he was still in Toman. He was buying midnight snacks when you came into the small shop near his house. It wasn’t love at first sight, but he knew you’d be something to him. A friend, an enemy, or a lover - he didn’t know. But he had a feeling. And he was right. You two became close extremely fast.

At nights he’d hold you close and whisper about your future. How he wants to marry you, even though he knows it’s not safe. He even thought about leaving this life behind, but that wasn’t possible. He’d ask you to never leave him. Mikey was broken, after losing so much. And you’d stay with him until the very end. Even if it meant losing your sanity.

Haitani Ran

Leave a pretty girl sad reputation

He was a playboy. Breaking the hearts of guys and girls without any shame or guilt. He had the looks and the personality and that was enough. People knew how he was, but they still expected to be the one for Ran. But the relationships ended not even a month in. Haitani was capable of having a good relationship, but he just never found the right one. Deciding to just indulge in one night stands. But that was until he met you.

You were so rude and cold towards him. You had no fear, even though you knew the power his name held. You thought he was the most annoying person to exist on this planet and he thought you were the most perfect human being. But of course it was hard for him to convince you that he actually liked you. Ran was cursing out himself for building the reputation he had and Rindou was laughing at his older brother’s problem.

He knew it would take a long while to make you believe him. But he was persistent. He wouldn’t give up. Not until he had you in his arms.

Haitani Rindou

Start a Fight Club, Brad reputation

I turnt the nightclub out of the basement

Haitani Rindou was known for a lot of things. He was a delinquent, he helped his brother kill someone at the age of twelve, he spent a lot of his teenage years in Juvie, he was known as a celebrity in Roppongi and around school he was also known for being rude and cold towards other students, pushing them around with his brother. Basically, he wasn’t a good person and everyone and their moms knew this. Following the footsteps of his older brother Ran, he built himself a name which brought fear to many. The only exceptions to this were his brother, his friends and for some reason - you.

You had just moved to Japan, not having any family there, or knowing anyone in that country in general. Your dad got a job in Tokyo and he took this opportunity to make more money. Of course you weren’t too fond of this idea, but who were you to crush his dreams. So you sucked it all in and decided to just keep quiet. Surprisingly it wasn’t too bad. Even though you were in the centre of attention (good and bad) you enjoyed making new friends and joining clubs. Mostly everything was going great, until the day you bumped into the famous Haitani Rindou. You had heard stories about him from your new friends, but he wasn’t what you had expected him to be.

He made sure you were okay and was blushing the whole time you two talked. What you didn’t know was how you managed to consume his mind. You were all he could think about. Your smile, your eyes, your cute accent and the funny way you pronounced words. Rindou managed to develop the biggest crush on you just by talking to you for a few minutes.

“Hey, there’s a party at my place.” He clears his throat. “On friday. I’ll be the dj. Come over?”

“For sure.” You smile at him and write down your number on a small piece of paper.

That was a start of a long lasting relationship.

Shion Madarame

And ay, ayo, we made to Thanksgiving

So ay, maybe we can make it to Christmas

Shion wasn’t the best at showing his emotions. He couldn’t tell you how he felt most of the time. Maybe it was because of pride, or maybe he was never taught to speak out. You didn’t know. But you did know that he loved you. You knew from the high school days, when he bumped into you on accident and then blamed it all on you.

He was a dumbass. He was forgetful, rude, way too stuck up and egoistic. Even after losing a fight, he’d walk with his head high and you didn’t know if that was a good, or a bad thing. All you knew was that you’d be there to patch him up. And even if he didn’t show it - he was grateful. Shion never thought you’d like him back. You were way too good for him. But he never regretted the stupid letter he wrote to you when he was sixteen. He’d always remember how you smiled while reading it and how you knew that it was him.

Now, he walked around the streets of Japan with you in his arms, his head still held high, but for different reasons. Shion knew they were all jealous of him. After all, you were a beauty to behold.

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sofya-fanfics · 7 months

Text

I will save you

Fandom : Tokyo Revengers

Relationship : Mikey x Takemichi

My Tropetember 2023 contribution for the prompt : Major Character Death.

I’m sorry for the mistakes, English is not my native language. I hope you like it.

Summary : Mikey wondered if Takemichi had returned from the past. Would he try to find out what had become of him ? He knew he would look for him. That was why he left him this video in the time capsule where he asked him not to find him. He knew Takemichi would respect his wishes. After all, he had nothing to offer but a world of violence and death.

Disclaimer : Tokyo Revengers belongs to Ken Wakui.

@tropetember

AO3 / FF.NET

Mikey looked in the distance and bit into a taiyaki. It was June 19. Twelve years to the day that the members of Toman had buried the time capsule and that they had planned to meet again. Mikey had been dreading this date for several days. He knew his friends would be there, surely wondering where he was and if he would come. But he should not go to the meeting. If he had dissolved the Toman and if he had broken all his ties with them, it was to protect them and to protect their future. He had to protect them from who he had become.

He had still made enquiries about what they had become. It was stronger than him, he had to know. They had been the most important people in his life and even if he refused to admit it to himself, he still cared about them.

He had learned that Draken had opened a motorcycle workshop. Chifuyu had opened a pet store and Kazutora had been helping him since his release from prison. Pah-chin, who had just married, had taken over his father’s business and was assisted by Peh-yan. Mitsuya had become a stylist and was starting to make a name for himself in the fashion world. Hakkai was an international model and his sister was his agent. As for Takemichi, he was the manager of a DVD store and was soon to marry Hinata. They were all happy without him and it was better that way.

He wondered if Takemichi had returned from the past. Would he try to find out what had become of him ? Mikey knew he would look for him. That was why he left him this video in the time capsule where he asked him not to find him. He knew Takemichi would respect his wishes. After all, he had nothing to offer but a world of violence and death.

Twelve years ago, he knew how things might end. His dark impulse would eventually catch up with him and Takemichi would be one of his victims. He would kill him, as he killed anyone who bothered him or was of no use to him.

A long time ago, the only people able to help him fight this impulse had been Shinichiro, Emma and Baji. But the three of them were no longer with him. Then Takemichi came into his life. He had this strength and this courage which had made Mikey want to fight this impulse. With Takemichi by his side, the darkness inside him disappeared. He had become his hero and he loved him. And because he loved him, he had to let him return to his time. He knew that the moment Takemichi disappeared, his dark impulse would have the upper hand. He was plunged far too deeply into darkness and no one could save him. Not even Takemichi.

He bit into his taiyaki again when he heard someone arriving behind him. He knew it was Sanzu, his faithful second.

“Are you sure you don't want to go there?” Sanzu asked.

“I am,” Mikey answered indifferently.

This date was part of his past and it had to stay that way.

******

Mikey had been hearing rumors for several days about a man who was looking for information about him and the Bonten. Who could be this idiot who was looking for him even though the authorities feared him ? For a second, Takemichi's face came to his mind. But it was impossible. He was to marry Hinata in a few days and he would not risk losing everything to find him.

Mikey watched Rindo dispose of the corpse of one of the Bonten members he had just executed. He had betrayed him, so Mikey had to eliminate him. He felt nothing. Neither regret, nor pain, nor pleasure like the members of his gang. He was empty. He saw from the corner of his eye Sanzu arriving. He had sent him to find out about this man.

“Did you learn anything ?” Mikey asked.

“It is Takemichi Hanagaki.”

So it was him, Mikey thought. He had not listened to him and he had searched for him. Why did he have to keep playing the hero ?

“Do you know where he is ?”

Sanzu nodded. Mikey's hand clenched around the gun.

“Take me to him.”

Mikey already knew what was going to happen. That was why he did not want to see Takemichi again. Why did things have to end like this ?

******

“I will save you !”

Why ? Why when Mikey had just shot him and he was about to die, Takemichi still wanted to save him ? Why he did not realize it was too late for him ? He could not be saved for years. Why did he keep insisting ? He had said himself that he could no longer go back to the past.

Mikey could not take this life anymore. He walked over to the edge and let himself fall into the void. It was finally over. He felt his fall stop. Takemichi grabbed him by the arm. How was that possible ? With the bullets he had fired at him, he should be bleeding to death, unable to move. And yet, Takemichi refused to let go of him. He kept insisting that he could still be saved and for the first time, Takemichi called him by his first name.

Something in Mikey's heart changed. He wanted to believe in Takemichi and believe that he deserved to be saved. Suddenly, Takemichi's gaze changed. Mikey knew that look. He had already seen it twelve years ago when future Takemichi was traveling in the past. Did Takemichi just time travel ?

Suddenly, Takemichi's body fell over and both of them fell into the void. Despite their fall, Mikey did not want to let go of his hand. The fall only lasted three seconds, which seemed to him to last hours.

They crashed to the ground. Mikey's body had cushioned Takemichi's. However, he was no longer moving, he was no longer breathing. Mikey realized he was dead. Himself was at his worst. All the bones in his body were broken. His lungs must have been punctured, he had more and more trouble breathing. He had never been in so much pain. He wanted to scream, but he could not.

He could hear a crowd forming around them, but he could not see anything. The shock had blinded him. His hand that held Takemichi's loosened little by little. He felt himself losing consciousness and he understood that he had little time left. He gathered what little strength he had left to raise his arm and wrap it around Takemichi. He had never been afraid of dying, but this time it was different.

“Takemitchy,” he managed to whisper.

Takemichi offered him a second chance and Mikey hoped to spend it with the one he loved. With his hero, with Takemichi.

The end

#tropetember #tropetember 2023 #tokyo revengers #takemikey #takemichi x mikey #sano manjiro #takemichi hanagaki #fanfiction #my writing

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jail-buddies-au · 2 months

Note

I like how you randomly appeared on my fy, checked out your art,read some of your AU and was like "yes,a person of quality.Mhm." *cutely follows*.

You are now obliged to share more of this (/nm) because this Au will now be on my mind for at least a month

“A PERSON OF QUALITY” M CRYIIINGGG SJDJKSSJ THANKS

Im actually just a silly person that didn’t like the ending of their hyperfixation so i said “mm no pass me the pencil”

Haven’t been able to draw much but i do have some loose ideas and info

I find interesting that without the last time travel in canon absolutely EVERYTHING would’ve have gone downhill, like normally in the past time travels takemichi did there was always a good change, something good that happened, like kazutora’s survival in Valhalla vs Toman, that even if the future ended up worse, that change was still something valuable.

In Kanto vs Toman this gets completely erased, there’s literally no way out of a bad ending, three people died with absolutely no recompense, because the future staying exactly the same as bonten TL, Mikey being far away from everyone, but with three more dead people.

Takemichi dies and all turn into this in the matter of a week

That’s kind of what dragged me to think about this, am i being redundant??? Also i felt the necessity of exploring more Mikey’s mental health through the manga, which was heavenly implied and tried to give it a little of closure, which was something that i really wanted.

Now, there IS in fact a last time travel in this AU, but unlike canon, they don’t go back to the beginning beginning. Mikey travels back to this exact moment

I think that the time capsule moment was a very nice point to travel to, idk how to write a coherent paragraph so lemme just do it like this:

- Characters who’s death ate important to other characters development remain dead (shinichiro, baji, emma, izana) THAT ALTHOUGH IT HURTS ME SO MUCH, i didn’t like that everyone suddenly revived

- here is when Mikey starts to get actual fucking help LMAO, like while they were burying the time capsule, Mikey already knew what he was end of being, he literally planned a twelve-year-long su!cide at that moment. So i think that for the final TL to get a happy (as much as it can) ending is taking that plan back and actually start a healing journey with everything that has happened am i overthinking too much?

- ANYWAY, imma be fully transparent, i don’t know when exactly Mikey travels back, I know that he’s the time traveler because of michi giving him the power before dying, and Kazutora is the trigger. But idk if make him travel back the day Kazutora gets released from jail or before (still gonna keep him some good years behind bars tho)

NOW I CAN START WITH SILLY STUFF

- Theres a stray cat that lives in the prison called Arepa, all the prisoners know her

- Kazutora is REALLY well behaved in prison, and he has some privileges bc if that of course, Mikey thinks that’s a lie and that he actually sucked off some guard to have said benefits

-on the other side, Mikey is completely unstable, one day he can be rotting inside his sell not giving a fuck about anyone, and the other he can be fighting to death with another inmate

-he has been in solitary confinement more than once

- Kazutora receives letters from chifuyu every now and then, Mikey received a lot from Sanzu and even one from koko but he never answered, he wants to be forgotten just like in Bonten TL

-Chifuyu testified in Mikey’s trial, he also visited him once, that conversation is very well daydreamed in my head kakdjsksjjs

- There’s a good amount of mental health talk in this AU bc of course that Mikey and Kazutora in the same room was a great idea of me, so if you’re sensitive to that be careful 💙

-right now I’m drawing a little comic about Sanzu and Senju but i just have the sketch for now forgive my sins, and there’s actually a lot of panels and convos i have already like completely finished in my head, like when Mikey travels back? That’s COMPLETELY planned already jajdjsjsj im just slow

That’s all I think???? (It’s totally not but if I remember something ill post it or edit this)

Lemme know your thoughts before i consider myself cringe and delete all this text ISJDJDJSJJSJS

#ask

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darkmermaidao3 · 3 months

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I haven’t posted about it in a while but my Tokyo Revengers fic on AO3 has had a few updates since. Chapters 24, 25, and 26 are available for reading!

Link below to The Haitani Princess 👑

Chapter 24 Excerpt!

“We’re leaving Aniki, Nii-san.”

Ran pulled his eyes away from the notepad, his violet orbs finding his sister’s identical pair for a brief moment before flicking to the teenager standing right next to her, his gaze settling on their interlocked hands, a pleasant smile forming on his face at the sight; how strange it was to see this kind of behavior out of his sister that forever showed disinterest in things of this nature.

“Alright little dove, be home around seven if you want dinner.” He commented, turning his attention back to the in-progress grocery list. “Making your favorite.”

“Okay Aniki.” Reina agreed, her voice cheerful.

“If anything happens to her Hanemiya, I’ll break your damn leg.” Rindou threatened, sounding the furthest thing from content; the elder could’ve chuckled at the words, his brother was certainly not pleased over this situation and there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that they’d be discussing it in private no sooner did the pair walk out the door.

“I can take care of my damn self Nii-san.” The girl scowled, sounding just as irritated; the smile stretched further across his face over her attitude, she was like a perfect mix of the pair of them at times, her short temper was Rindou made over and the usual dull look in her eyes was all him.

Chapter 25 Excerpt!

“Draken!”

She could see it just as clearly as it’d been twelve years prior and trying to shove the memory into the recesses of her mind never worked, she’d tried every time the anniversary closed in, but it was a wasted effort. She may have been desensitized nowadays to blood, dismemberment, having borne witness to the raw torture of countless people, but back then was different. It’d been the very first time that she’d come face to face with death and to make matters worse, it’d been one of her dearest friends, one of Toman’s founders…Ryuguji Ken had been one of the strongest and even he hadn’t been able to fight off death.

“Mikey! He’s bleeding! Mikey!”

A wailing shriek left her throat, her fingers knotted in her curls as she proceeded to bash her head off the wall in hopes that it would kill her, the back of her skull colliding against the wall so hard that the sound echoed through the bedroom but it didn’t do a damn thing, she hadn’t even managed to see stars so it truly looked like she was going to have to eat a bullet.

“Reina!”

“Draken! Say something!”

It was every damn year, August 2nd going into August 3rd was when the memory replayed as a dream and keeping it at bay never worked.

Chapter 26 Excerpt!

“So hungry.” Reina whined dramatically, tugging at his shirt childishly; the grin stretched further across his face, he loved it when she’d get clingy with him and she’d been glued to his side all day, it didn’t get any better than this. “Kazu, I’m still hungry.”

“We’ll get more food then, yeah?” He responded easily, nodding once in affirmation; she beamed brightly at the words, snuggling up against his side.

“Still a damn pushover, always giving into her shit.” Baji commented, his tone annoyed.

“Rei didn’t have breakfast this morning.” he reasoned with a shrug, slipping his arm around her shoulders to hold her closer. “You know skipping meals makes her tummy off.”

“Don’t know how you don’t weigh seven hundred pounds.” He mused, he was practically asking for a fight with those words; a haughty look formed on her face, her lips pursing in pure annoyance. “All you do is eat and nap.”

“Murdering people with my kicks takes energy.” Reina announced, her voice monotone; he arched an eyebrow, he’d been noticing her indifferent tone of voice in the past two days, and it was certainly different than how exuberant she’d always sounded when they were kids. “Not my fault you don’t understand how food is converted into energy.”

“You little shit.” The first division captain snarled, sounding heated; the dull look in her eyes didn’t falter as she stared across the table at him, her expression filled with boredom. “I’ll murder you.”

“I’d like to see you try.” She retorted, her own voice smug; Kazutora rolled his eyes, his arm tightening around her shoulders. “I’ll murder you first.”

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deathfavor · 4 months

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@ofsavior said: “We don’t do this for you.” There’s a firm tension to the words, but they’re calm all the same. So terribly calm. “We do it so Mikey doesn’t have to.” (Manila Mitsuya for Izana)

Oh? One of those pests has decided to speak. Izana remains smiling even as he turns towards Mitsuya and away from the crime scene. He couldn't care less about these particular subordinates or what they had to say.

No, that wasn't quite true. They were going to be the lambs to the slaughter, the final proof that Mikey was nothing but a puppet for Izana to command. Mikey would rip out the final weeds in Tenjiku's kingdom with his own hands.

" Someone's rather bold today. " Izana remarks, earrings clattering when he tilts his head with the same eerie smile. " Are you wanting a medal for being so noble? None of that means anything here. You should know that. " The gang might carry the name of Toman, but that was ALL it had become. Tenjiku had slaughtered the heart and stolen its name, like a murderer taking a victim's identity and living on in the victim's life. It wasn't how Izana had originally planned for it, but this worked just fine. Toman and the police were both puppets that waltzed to Izana's desires and Kisaki's timing. " As long as you do what you're told, I don't care what you tell yourself to make you feel better. "

And if push came to shove? The S-62 Generation could always enforce his will and deal out consequences. Mitsuya would be the easiest when he had other people that could suffer besides just him. ( Just like that boy from when he was twelve, when Izana had hunted down his friends and family and made THEM suffer besides just the ring leader and those who'd hurt him. )

He regards Mitsuya for a moment longer before looking ahead. " I know Mikey didn't tell you to do it. " Mikey was so hollow these days that he would be perfectly capable of doing these things himself. " So are you really doing it for him, or for your own conscious? " Izana lifts his brow slightly as his hands slide into is pockets. " Would you still do it even if Mikey said he wanted to do it? "

#ofsavior #....careful mitsuya- hjfshdfg #as long as you do what you're told tho #he just shrugs tbh #᛭ — [IC] the unwanted will burn the world [IZANA KUROKAWA]#᛭ — [VERSE: MANILA] the underworld falls to its knees before your throne [IZANA KUROKAWA]

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iceagebabystanaccount · 4 months

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Omnia Sol-Prologue

Twelve years ago, Rei Baji’s twin brother was murdered. Now in the year 2017, Rei is a twenty-six-year-old office worker with no friends, no lovers, no goals, and most certainly no life. On their way home from a bar they are unexpectedly attacked, resulting in their death. This causes them to somehow end up twelve years in the past. With this new chance to change their mistakes, they decide they are going to prevent their brother’s untimely demise. They reconnect with old friends and enemies, and gain new allies. Can Rei save their brother or will they again be forced to go through life alone?

This work contains an unreliable narrator and an unlikeable protagonist. If either of those things aren’t your cup of tea don’t read this.

cw: Discussions of death, mild gore, alcoholism

His altar had been extremely simple, as they couldn’t afford much more. The portrait was his most recent school photo. His hair was down and uniform neat, for once. White chrysanthemums littered the table with some yellows sprinkled throughout. It was a basic arrangement. They picked it out with the help of their mother. It was also the cheapest option available.

Grandpa Sano offered to help pay for the funeral arrangements, but their mother refused. She claimed that it would be wrong to make another family pay for Keisuke’s funeral. Rei disagreed.

The ceremony had been odd. Rei had never been upfront during a funeral, their grandparents had died when they were only a few months old, and at Shinichiro’s, they’d been at the very back. Now it was Grandpa Sano and Emma in the back. Rei hadn’t looked at them.

They didn’t pay attention to how many came and paid their respects, who burned incense and prayed. What did it matter? He was dead. That wasn’t going to change. They assumed that the funeral was much more important to their mother and friends, as their mother was a practicing Buddhist, and their friends had yet to say goodbye.

When Chifuyu got to the altar Rei peaked at him. Tears streamed down his face, making it bright red, and snot leaked from his nose. If he had been embarrassed, he didn’t show it. He stood tall when he walked down the line, allowing everyone to see the state he was in. He and their mother had matching faces.

As Chifuyu was about to make his way back to his seat, their mother grabbed his wrist, gently pulling him to sit with them, a sad smile on her face. Out of everything done that day, Keisuke would have liked that. Chifuyu walked in front of them and took the seat to their right. It was then that they made eye contact for the first time that day.

Before that point, everything had been fine. A few tears were nothing, that day they had wept for hours in their mother’s arms, the shared pain between them causing their rift to knit itself back together. But at that moment, locking eyes with one of the few people they knew truly understood their pain, the shitty dam they had built broke. They were, in fact, an ugly crier. But didn’t they deserve an ugly cry the day they mourned their brother’s death? When else could they be a blubbering loser than at a funeral dedicated to their brother?

Horrific sounds spilled from their lips, filling the air and making everyone uncomfortable. Good, let them be driven to the brink by their cries.

He had just missed their birthday. He hadn’t even been fifteen.

They grabbed both their mother’s and Chifuyu’s hands, needing something to ground them. Their mother’s were warm and dry, as opposed to Chifuyu’s cold and clammy. They didn’t call him out on it, as they were still busy terrifying guests.

Sometime during their wailing, a few members of Toman paid their respects. Mitsuya, Shiba, and the Kawata twins were the only ones they’d known.

As Grandpa Sano and Emma walked toward the altar, Emma kept glancing at them. Her eyes were red, a deep well of compassion. Maybe Emma could’ve understood them on a greater level, as she too had lost her brother. That made Rei somehow feel worse.

Sano-san and Emma each plucked a pinch of makko out of the bowl and brought it to their foreheads, then they sprinkled it onto the burner. They bowed to Keisuke’s portrait, Emma looked at it every few seconds as she said her prayer. Sano-san had bowed low, much lower than was required. His lips didn’t part until Emma’s stopped moving. He prayed for a long time. After he was finished, they both rose and began their walk to the back of the room. Their departure caused Rei to realize something.

Someone was missing.

Rei looked at the line of guests waiting to pay their respects. They checked once, twice and then they were sure. Manjiro wasn’t there. He hadn’t come to Keisuke’s funeral.

Good. He shouldn’t have been there. Rei didn’t want him there. If they had had any say in the matter he wouldn’t have been allowed at the funeral, or even near their family ever again.

But, he didn’t come. How could he not? They were friends! They had known each other since they were 4 and 5! How do you not go to your friend’s funeral?! How do you get someone’s brother killed and not go to the funeral?! The entire situation was incomprehensible. The cold grief in Rei’s chest slowly heated, until it was burning hot rage. It made them wanna go find him and…

Then again, the thought of Manjiro strutting in, walking up to his altar, and praying for him made Rei wanna scream and throw up. The rage didn’t completely cool, just lowered to a less volatile temperature.

They had sat there for what must have been an hour more, but he never came. He never said goodbye. And Rei hated that almost as much as him killing their brother.

Late nights at the office are not enforced, but they are expected. The typical workday is supposed to be nine-seven, but many of their coworkers stay much later. Rei doesn’t. They leave as soon as they can, throwing all of their shit into their bag and all but racing to the elevator. Tonight is no different.

They glance at the clock on their desk and quickly kill the computer. Springing from their chair and crawling under the desk to grab the pens that have ended up on the floor throughout the day. Some of their coworkers are side-eyeing them, but they truly can’t find it in themselves to give a shit. The bar is calling them. Tomorrow is a Saturday so no need to worry about staying out too late. After grabbing their bag and blazer they’re gone.

The moment they get outside they regret it, the humid air causes their bangs to stick to their forehead with sweat. As they walk they can feel the perspiration gathering on the back of their neck, under their hair. It needs to be cut badly, having grown almost down to their waist. The black button-up and slacks don’t help with the heat.

It’s seven p.m. in July, so the sun is still out. The streets of Shibuya are still crowded, some people are like them, leaving work to go drink themselves into a stupor and hopefully quell their increasingly depressing thoughts. After all, alcoholism is better than suicide. Others are walking to their jobs, the nightlife scene in Shibuya is big. Some are just college kids or tourists coming to party and get scammed.

The traffic is terrible.

Rei stands at the crosswalk waiting for the signal to cross. It’s gonna take forever. The already hellish heat is made worse by the hoard of people surrounding them, and the garish electronic billboards strain their already bad eyes.

The people blend together when they are so close, a mass of heat and destruction Rei tries to get away from to no avail. The only one out of the hoard they take any interest in is the old woman standing a meter in front of them. She’s short and wrinkly and looks like she’s barely hanging on. She reminds them of their old neighbor, Chen-san. They never did find out her first name. She used to make wonderful dumplings, giving them to Rei when they would come to clean her apartment. She also would yell at Keisuke for being too noisy. That was always appreciated. Even though she reminds them of Chen-san, there is no way it’s actually her. She died when Rei was in high school.

A rowdy partyer bumps into the woman, and she goes flying towards the road. Rei imagines her being struck by a car and rolling over the hood, her head cracking on the pavement. The car plowing over her, as they had better things to do than help an old woman who didn’t have much time left anyway. The other cars would follow the leader, running her over again and again. She would cease to be a person, just entrails strewn along the road. A memory of crimson painting the tires. How long would she live? How much pain would she register before her old bones gave up? How much of her would people have to put into plastic bags and dispose of? What-

A young woman grabs her, pulling her close and away from the road. She tears the near-murderer a new one.

The signal finally changes.

It’s not a great bar. It’s old, cheap and dirty. But Rei loves it. No one from work would ever dream of coming here, if they even knew it existed at all. Like so many odd and out-of-the-way places this bar doesn’t have a name, or if it does Rei is unaware. No signs are out front advertising its presence. Maybe it’s a place that just draws people to it, like a moth to a flame. A place you’ll find one day when you need it. Rei doesn’t put that much thought into it though. It’s just a place they go to get cheap drinks and not be judged by the other patrons.

The stool Rei sits on is crooked, one of the legs shorter than the two others, so they lean heavily on the sticky bar. In front of them sits their can of Sapporo, two empty ones behind it. They are tipsy, a light flush on their cheeks. At twenty-six they’re still a light-weight.

The lights are very dim tonight, making it hard to make out any of the bottles on the shelf behind the bar. Rei is happy with it though, as it gives their overworked eyes a chance to rest and not burn in their sockets. One of the bottles might say something about cream, Rei can’t tell.

In October it’ll be twelve years since Keisuke died. Rei will turn twenty-seven, and he will remain fourteen.

They might come here that day, it’d be a lot easier than going to visit their mother. It’s not that they hate her or anything, it’s just…How do you go see the woman who gave you life when you know you disappoint her? They guzzle the last of their drink.

A TV sits at the end of the bar furthest from the door. A man a few seats down from Rei holds the remote in his hand, uninterestedly flipping through the channels. His stool has 3 even legs. Rei’s jealous. He finally pauses on the news.

A female news anchor, who looks a little like Rei’s ex-girlfriend, is going on about a political scandal. Why come to a bar if you wanna watch the news? Rei is just about to voice that question when the news anchor switches to a new story and says a name that causes rage to rise in them. “It is believed that the Tokyo Manji Gang is responsible for the deaths of two civilians, Hinata Tachibana, and Naoto Tachibana,” she says the names of the dead with false sympathy. “If you have any information about the incident,” Her eyes lock with Rei’s through the TV, “Please contact the police

Nothing will be done for them. It’s an open secret that the Tokyo Manji Gang runs Shibuya, many of the clubs here are used to clean their money. There will be no evidence, or they will say there is none, and then it will be over.

They don’t say his name, but it doesn’t matter. Their night has taken a turn for the worse.

The Tokyo Manji Gang. Toman. Manjiro Sano. Rei orders an entire bottle of sake.

Rei had long ago finished the bottle, and had five more beers with it. The bartender is telling them they are done, they’re much too drunk to continue to serve, but Rei doesn’t hear him. They keep trying to ask for another bottle, another beer, or fuck, a shot. Just something! They’re fine, see. They can have more. They aren’t winning the argument.

Now, the old man who owns the joint is coming out of the back, telling them they need to go. Jeez, why is everyone yelling at Rei? They didn’t do anything. But fine, they’ll be the bigger person and go. Rei gets up, nearly falling off the stool due to its stupid leg. Their blazer and bag are grabbed in one motion, something a drunk person couldn’t do. They don’t stumble out the door.

No one is in the alley. They can hear the not-so-distant sounds of debauchery, but can’t see the glow of the annoying bright billboards due to the surrounding buildings. It’s dark and Rei doesn’t feel like carrying the blazer on their arm, so they throw it on, dropping their bag while doing so. They search blindly for their phone, running their hands over their many pockets. It’s in their bag, and dead.

That’s not good, sure they have no need for a ride right now, but they will when they leave the alley. It’s fine, they can hail a cab instead of using a ride-share app. They aren’t walking the five blocks to the station.

The march down the alley is an ordeal, they grip the grimy walls for stability but still topple over every few steps. When they reach the end their hands are covered in…something and their slacks have dirt on them. The street is dead, as all the establishments on it are closed. No taxis to be found.

They can see faint light from the billboards now. Civilization isn’t far. If they go to a more populated area then they can get a taxi to the station, go home, and sleep for fourteen hours. Usually, some tourists are walking down the street looking at all the closed shops with interest, planning to come back the following day, but for some reason, no one is out here tonight. One night will be fine, is what they tell themselves as they walk down the deserted street.

The sound of their loafers is accompanied by distant shouting and music. Their intoxicated state makes the street lights appear to be moving, swaying side to side and away from them. The world is a blur of colors and sounds, and their vision swims. Everything is moving much too slowly for Rei. They’ve been walking forever and still no taxis. Will they ever get home? Wait, why are they going home? They stop to pull out their phone again. It’s still dead.

Footsteps.

At first, they think maybe it’s the booze or thinking about Manjiro that’s making them paranoid, but they are getting closer now. The hair on the back of Rei’s neck rises, and without thinking they take off. Or try to, but it appears as if the alcohol is making it difficult to quickly put one foot in front of the other. They start falling, bracing themselves with their arms at the last moment. A crack is heard and pain shoots up their right arm, slightly dulled in their drunken haze. Thump.

Rei lays face down on the ground, contemplating taking a nap right here. The footsteps continue. they push off the ground with their left hand, rising to their knees. Where are their glasses? They need to use their phone to find their glasses, so they reach for their bag and now their arm hurts. Why does their arm hurt? Aw, their phone is dead. Where are their glasses? Footsteps.

Oh shit. Footsteps. Rei moves in a way that shouldn’t be possible for someone in their state, leaping into the air and readying once again to run. But it’s too late. No more footsteps.

A man stands before them. He is short and stringy, wearing a nice suit and shoes, much too expensive to be walking around here this late, a Rolex sits on his wrist. His hands are deep in his pants pockets. They can’t make out his face. Rei whips their head around, but no one else appears.

Ok. One guy is fine. They’re tired, sure, and not completely sober, but one guy isn’t the end of the world. People aren’t too far away now, if they break past him they’ll be home free. Yeah, that’s a plan.

They don’t get the chance. He takes his right hand out of his pocket.

They’re back on the ground again. How did they get there? The man is standing over them with something in his hand. Where are their glasses? Their abdomen burns. They try to lift their right arm, then switch to the left, and their hand lightly grazes their stomach. His hand goes back into his pocket, his Rolex glints under the street lights. Their hand comes away slick with blood, and that must be what is slowly trickling out of the corner of their mouth. They spit it out, let some land on him dammit.

That must’ve pissed him off cuz now he’s crouching down, and Rei can finally kinda see his face. Do they know him? Light flashes and dark spots cloud their vision. This is Rei’s death? Getting shot by some rich prick for no fucking reason, other than he was murderous.What the fuck?

He isn’t saying anything, just looking at their tired face, the dark rings under their eyes more prominent due to the blood loss. They look like a mess-even more than usual. Their hair once again matted to their forehead with sweat, clothes sticky with blood, and glasses somewhere in the middle of the street. And oh yeah, the broken arm and a gunshot wound, how could they forget. He’s still staring. Is he getting off on this? Probably, sick fuck. Coughing starts and blood is shooting from their mouth, some hitting him on the cheek. He doesn’t move.

It took Keisuke ten minutes to bleed out. He could’ve lived if given proper medical attention, all anyone had to do was call an ambulance. No one had.

They know no one is coming to rescue them, but out of the corner of their eye, a shadow moves, and for just a moment they feel safe.

Then it’s all gone.

#baji keisuke #manjiro sano x oc #manjiro sano x reader #mikey x reader #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers #tokrev #mikey x oc #tokyo revengers x reader

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leiasfanaccount648 · 1 year

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✧Twelve Days of Toman✧

Genres: Fluff, Angst, Suggestive (specified in each)

Summary: Spending the holidays with your favorite Toman members!

Warnings/Contains: Timeskip!Tokyo Revengers, Manga Spoilers (I have finished it and will be writing based off the ending), Fluff, Angst, Suggestive Scenes/Words, Cursing, Holiday Activities, (each fic is with a reader who uses she/her pronouns)

Disclaimer: As I know not everyone celebrates the same holidays or does the same “traditions”, I did my best to not stick to only Christmas. The only one that directly correlates to Christmas is Hakkai’s due to Taiju’s Christian beliefs being mentioned.

If you would like to be tagged in any of the fics pls comment or send me an ask! :)

✧ Dear Santa ✧

♪ Song to Listen to : Santa Tell Me by Ariana Grande ♪

Pairing: Manjiro “Mikey” Sano x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff, a bit of crack

Summary: Even at his age, Mikey believes in Santa, as his brother never told him the fabled truth. Not wanting to break his heart, you try and come up with a way to gently break the news to him; however, instead, Mikey reminds you how maybe indulging in your inner child isn’t as bad as the others make it out to be.

Warnings/Contains: Manga spoilers (this takes place after the manga ends) Fluff, Mikey’s dramatic, Shinchiro annoyed with Mikey, the Sano family loves you

WC: 2.0k

✧ What do You Want Most? - Unwrap on Dec. 7th ✧

♪ Song to Listen to : Snowman by Sia ♪

Pairing: Ken “Draken” Ryuguji x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff, angst if you squint

Summary: For some reason, the holiday season wasn’t a favorite to you. The lights were pretty, some of the songs were catchy, but nothing got you excited for it like it did Emma and Hina. Wanting to give you a memorable holiday, Draken takes it upon himself to get you to have fun this year.

Warnings/Contains: TBD

WC: TBD

✧ Lavendar Lights - Unwrap on Dec. 9th ✧

♪ Song to listen to : 24 to 25 by Stray Kids ♪

Pairing: Takashi Mitsuya x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff, a smidge of angst,

Summary: As your husband’s work gets more recognized and praised by numerous names in the fashion industry, the time he’s gotten to spend at home has diminished. The further it gets into the holiday season, you’re starting to worry that you won’t get to spend it with him no matter how much he promises you that he will.

Warnings/Contains: TBD

WC: TBD

✧ What You Desire Most - Unwrap on Dec. 12th ✧

♪ Song to listen to : Christmas Canon by the Trans-Siberian Orchestra ♪

Pairing: Hakkai Shiba x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: For as long as he can remember, Christmas has been one of the few quiet days he had every year growing up due to his brother’s faith. This year, you decide to make the holiday a positive event for him; something that he can now look forward to next year and the years to come.

Warnings/Contains: TBD

WC: TBD

✧ Shopping and Snickerdoodles - Unwrap on Dec. 14th ✧

♪ Song to listen to : What Christmas Means to Me by A.Gayle ♪

Pairing: Platonic Friendship with the girls

Genre: Fluff, a bit crack

Summary: It’s once again the holiday season, which can only mean one thing: the shopping of gifts for friends and loved ones. After one of you suggests going together, the next thing you know you’re facing the local mall with your friends. What could go wrong?

Warnings/Contains: TBD

WC: TBD

✧ Sugar, Spice, and... a Black Cat - Unwrap on Dec. 16th ✧

♪ Song to listen to : Like It’s Christmas by The Jonas Brothers ♪

Pairing: Chifuyu Matsuno x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: After seeing an article online, you give Chifuyu the idea to make homemade pet treats to sell at the pet shop. With a cat in the way, and his feelings for you, will he be able to get through this holiday season?

Warnings/Contains: TBD

WC: TBD

✧ A Christmas to Remember - Unwrap on Dec. 19th ✧

♪ Song to listen to : This is Christmas by The Goo Goo Dolls ♪

Pairing: Keisuke Baji x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: You’re a sucker for the holidays, but your boyfriend? Not so much. He lets you decorate, listen to the music as soon as November hits, and start baking your famous cookies when the first snow of the season falls; but year after year, Keisuke never seems to get into the holiday spirit. Little do you know he’s been paying close attention every year in preparation for this one.

Warnings/Contains: TBD

WC: TBD

✧ Baby’s First Holiday - Unwrap on Dec. 21st ✧

♪ Song to listen to : It’s Beginning to Look a lot like Christmas by Michael Buble ♪

Pairing: Kazutora Hanemiya x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff, angst if you squint

Summary: It’s the first holiday season Kazutora gets to spend with you; sadly, he isn’t aware of all the traditions and other things that are often associated with this time of year. Thankfully, you’re more than happy to show him.

Warnings/Contains: TBD

WC: TBD,

✧ Mistletoe Mischief - Unwrap on Dec. 23rd ✧

♪ Song to listen to : You’re a Mean One Mr. Grinch by Thurl Ravenscroft ♪

Pairing: Shuuji Hanma x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff, suggestive

Summary: He’s cocky, rude, a smartass, there were so many words you could use to describe him. Yet why is it that you keep finding yourself with butterflies in your stomach every time he flirts with you?

Warnings/Contains: TBD

WC: TBD

✧ Not Now, Not Then, Not Ever Again - Unwrap on Dec. 26th ✧

♪ Song to listen to : Santa Baby by Eartha Kitt, Henri Rene and His Orchestra ♪

Pairing: Hajime Kokonoi x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst (I’m not sorry cause I so see this happening), fluff, suggestive

Summary: Year after year, Hajime never seemed to learn his lesson until deciding to cut love out of his life entirely. Every person he had interest in eventually left him once they got what they wanted out of him. When you come along however, all bundled up for the winter weather and stumbling into him on the street, he fights with himself on whether or not he should take one more chance.

Warnings/Contains: TBD

WC: TBD

✧ The Smallest Gifts Mean the Most - Unwrap on Dec. 28th ✧

♪ Song to listen to : Invisible by Zara Larsson ♪

Pairing: Inui Seishu x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: After the passing of his sister, Inui slowly lost interest in the holiday season and everything to do with it. Determined to bring the holiday spirit into his life, you do whatever you can to make him happy and enjoy what is known as the happiest time of the year even if his sister is not there.

Warnings/Contains: TBD

WC: TBD

✧ “Yule” of All People - Unwrap on Dec. 30th ✧

♪ Song to listen to : You Make Me Feel So Young by Frank Sinatra ♪

Pairing: Shinchiro Sano x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: It’s his first holiday season in a relationship, and with you no less. However, him no longer being single also gives his friends chances to butt in and mess up his plans as a “test” to see how loyal and patient you are with him.

Warnings/Contains: TBD

WC: TBD

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cheesus-doodles · 1 year

Text

Going Home: Chapter 3

Yandere Platonic Toman + Time Leaper Darling

Masterlist

‎

Going Home: Chapter 1 | 2

Thank you all for your patience! Sorry I've been a bit quieter than usual, been working on this chapter as and when I have the time, super excited and relief to finally get this out there! Enjoy! :) p.s. it’s pretty late, editing tomorrow, thanks for understanding!

Catching Kazutora’s fist with a quick flash of his own arm, the already bulging vein on Draken’s forehead that had been throbbing for the better half of a day looked like it was on the verge of finally popping. “Hey, hey! Knock it off already!” It was a line he had repeated countless numbers of times today alone, yet the words didn’t seem to sink into the other with black-and-yellow hair, those unblinking eyes fixated on a head of lilac hair on the other end of the picnic bench, though Kazutora reluctantly retreated back to his assigned corner under the tired glare, away from a weary Mtisuya.

“And don’t you even think about it,” Draken snapped without even turning, and Mikey reluctantly sank back down into his seat, tightly clenched fists disappearing under the sun-bleached wood of a school bench. Despite the gloomy mood that hung heavy over the Toman boys back home and unknowingly separated from you by twelve long years, the weather seemed to disagree with their somber thoughts; the sun was bright yet the air was cool, a breeze rustling the leaves of overhead trees with the occasional joyful ray of light breaking through a generous canopy and onto miserable faces. A beautiful day by all accords for an absolutely horrible, worst-case situation.

Letting out a wretched sigh, the usually stoic Vice President dragged one hand down his face, the other clutching a comparatively small phone. He understood, he really did - after all he was as much trapped in the same unenviable situation as the rest of his fellow founders. Exhausted, anxious, an insatiable boiling rage in his gut, and the need to beat anyone and anything that stood in his path.

You were gone. Vanished without a trace in the middle of the day from outside your school in the single half-hour they weren’t by your side. There was little doubt that like him, the rest were still beating themselves up a day later over wasting precious time, having decided to wait for you outside the gates by their bikes instead of rushing straight in to look for you. After all, it was uncommon for you to run even a minute late from your classes; you never liked to keep your boys waiting for longer than necessary. And with Mitsuya having been the last to have seen you before your disappearance, walking you back and dropping you off at your classroom right after lunch, it was obvious that everyone’s initial suspicion would have been pinned directly on his other Twin Dragon no matter how ridiculous that idea sounded to Draken.

Because where else could you possibly have gone?

There surely was no stone in Shibuya that the panicked Toman founders had left unturned in their day and night comb of the city, yet they failed to find even a whiff of your presence. No school bag, no shoes, things that you usually had on your person had vanished along with you - it was as if you had simply vanished from the face of the earth, yet your house was undisturbed without a single item missing or out of place, nor did any of very vigilant your neighbors see you enter or leave. A kidnapping? A rival gang that had perhaps seen you with them one too many times, and decided to whisk you away as a hostage? Maybe a random street grab-and-run? Unlikely, given none of your schoolmates reported seeing any suspicious vehicles around the time of your disappearance (under the threat of a very painful death that is) and Toman had yet to receive any demands - Draken scratched that off his mental list.

Or worse, did you somehow find out about what your precious friends had been up to behind your back and decided to run away? It was a constant unspoken fear among the Toman founders, that you would decide one day to leave and never come back should you ever find out what they had been doing behind your back. But it was just another struck from the list; no chance that they wouldn't have known the moment you found out, given you always wore your heart on your sleeve.

So what did that leave? The blond-haired boy, a steadfast and strong presence that the Tokyo Manji Gang rallied around, barely knew where to go from here. Yet no matter how much his mind and heart yearned to get out and help with the search, his body was still weak and recovering from his near-death incident just a week prior: handling Kazutora and Mikey already took whatever strength he had left. Even if it was Draken who did manage to find you, he would imagine you wouldn’t be too happy to see him already out and about - all he had left was his brain.

The warm sunlight that bathed their skin felt more like a scornful, satirical imitation of your hug, the crowds thronging Tokyo City uncaring of their plight.

How did everything go wrong so quickly? It was supposed to be all uphill from here - Takemitchy had saved his life and been rewarded with Mikey’s first ever Toman uniform, and you, despite trying to save him yourself had thankfully walked away with a small but heartbreaking wound and scar on your hand; a clear reminder of their failure to protect you from their dark world.

Dropping back into his seat at the table, Draken set his uninspiringly quiet phone down with a thud. “Any new ideas?”

‎

And apparently that was the wrong question to ask, and the taut tension finally exploded, the wooden bench groaning and shuddering under Kazutora’s open palms as the duo-colored haired delinquent slammed both hands down, jumping to his feet. The words that spilled off his lips, combined with that unblinking stare, were toxic enough to kill. “I know it’s fucking you, isn’t it Mitsuya. You’re hiding her!”

A straight, unflinching accusation, one that said boy, no matter how level-headed, wasn’t going to take lying down. “Huh?! Are you dumb?” A vein on Mitsuya’s forehead began to bulge as he tried and failed to swallow the boiling anger. “I walked her all the way back to class! Why would I be here if I knew where she was?!”

“You said she needed more space, let her attend class in peace,” Kazutora spat back, though the tinge of desperation that underlied his tone and those dreadfully dark eyebags was abundantly clear. “We wouldn’t be in this position if we didn’t.”

If they didn’t let you run off and do whatever you wanted, unspoken words that all of them, both present around the bench and away searching, knew and carried in their heavy hearts. No one could shake the guilt.

And then a different voice speaking up had Draken’s gut sinking further. “How do we know its not you, Kazutora?” Questioned Mikey, unblinking eyes staring down said boy, who spun round to face the Toman President.

“Me?!”

The gang was falling apart without you, and the Toman Vice President could only wonder how long more they could last. He hoped you were at least safe and dry wherever you were.

‎

Separated from the woes of your delinquent friends by simple time, you were far from free from your own problems.

“Does it still hurt?”

“Not any more. I’m fine, Mikey, really. See?” you sighed out, running your bandaged hand through his crown of white hair, the other resting on the handle of an oil strainer, the gentle sound of food sizzling the only sound to be heard amidst this otherwise lifeless stainless steel environment that formed the ginormous kitchen you found yourself in. Your friend seemed less than inclined to believe you though, arms wrapped firmly around your waist as he leaned into your chest, careful to avoid brushing against your neck.

“But it did just now,” he mumbled back into your clothes, and you couldn't deny that - you could still feel those hands clamping around your throat, quavering dilated eyes squeezing down with the intent to kill.

It had been a good hour since the doctor had left after being immediately summoned from the infirmary to Mikey’s room to carefully and professionally assess your injuries under the watchful eyes of the white-haired man. An ointment for the ugly blue and purple bruising that littered your neck and a tight bandage wrap for your wound that was torn in the scuffle, and you were given the green light to resume regular activities, whatever that meant in light of what had just happened. Knowing Mikey, you would be lucky to ever be left alone anytime in the next week, let alone ever again. You hadn’t forgotten the look of utter fear that had washed over your friend’s face, the way he raced through winding hallways with you bundled in his arms, as if you were already on death’s door and tempted to cross the threshold. Because how could you? There wasn’t a single instance you remember ever seeing such a raw emotion pass Mikey’s face in all your time spent with your Toman friends, and you weren’t keen on seeing it again.

Yet all you had taken away from the whole incident were more and more questions; questions whose answers you knew would maybe start to solve the mystery of where you were and what had happened, yet questions you had no doubt would, at best, break Mikey’s heart if you asked. What to do indeed? Mentally shaking yourself out from the neverending spiral of thoughts, you turned your thoughts back to the present. Though, your lips twitching upwards, the irony of the other’s insistence at your apparently debilitating injury at the moment wasn’t lost on you - he hadn’t so much as mentioned the possibility of your bandages getting dirty when you were battering the chicken parts just a few minutes ago. “So I suppose I should stop frying and get some rest then?”

A noise that sounded like a cross between a snort and a whimper, and those abyss eyes instantly whipped up to meet yours. You couldn’t help the giggle that slipped out at the absolutely pathetic pout he had on his face, his grip on your shirt tightening further. “I didn’t say that!” he protested. “Take that back!”

“Yes, yes,” You rolled your eyes, that familiar indulgent smile spreading across your face. Despite everything, he was still your Mikey. “I was kidding, Mikey.”

But your wince at the flare of pain as you turned to press a kiss to the top of Mikey’s forehead, as much as you tried to hide it, wasn’t missed, the man gently guiding your head to face forward once more, childish whine fading into a quiet concerned mutter. “Don’t turn if it hurts.”

The kitchen fell back into a comfortable silence, you humming that old croony love song under your breath as you reverted your attention to your cooking, nudging Mikey back slightly when his hand got a little too close for comfort as you shook the oil off the crisp chicken pieces, settling them down top of a tray you had found in one of countless drawers. Steel surfaces marred with scratches and dulled from wear and tear told their own stories of the days spent toiling away here by unknown souls. You weren’t sure when those clingy arms had released you long enough for the white-haired man to wander back with plates, but the clinging of porcelain together as you rescued the last lonely karaage from the boiling sea of oil told you everything you needed to - you were certain your friend would demand payment for his “help” in the form of attention and cuddles later on.

Though there was not much time to think about that now either, not when you barely had enough to pick up your precious tray before Mikey started to insistently tug at your sleeve, leading you a surprisingly short distance through two doorways which opened up into a relatively homely-looking dining room. Decked out in simple but nonetheless exquisite walnut-wood furniture and a rug that reminded you of your own room back home, it was a stark contrast to the grandeur of the upper floors the two of you had descended from, the plain walls home to a single mirror and the round dining table a vase of flowers. “Sit here,” he insisted, and you obliged, dropping into the cushioned seat, to which Mikey immediately attempted to climb into your lap.

“Mikey!” Letting out an oof as your entire vision was suddenly filled with nothing but the black shirt your friend seemed to always wear, you swore you heard the chair underneath you groan with the weight of two. “Too heavy!”

A rustle and several mild thuds later, the pressure on your thighs was somewhat alleviated, with the white-haired man finally settling down, opting to sit only on your lap while resting his legs across both yours and the neighboring chairs’ armrests. To any other pair of discerning eyes, it would look almost as if you were cradling him, like a mother would their child, and you certainly were to an extent - but to you, it was very much just business as usual.

Just Mikey being the needy friend you remember from yesterday morning albeit looking a bit different. Even down to him now prying your fingers open to force a spoon into your grip, you knew it was your dear friend behind this facade of white hair and gaunt hands.

‎

But, your mind whispered against your heart’s protest, was that all that was different? Was the man in your lap truly the Mikey you thought you knew?

Even as you absentmindedly spooned a chunk of fried chicken into the awaiting mouth of the former Toman President, your thoughts couldn’t help but wander back towards that incident just a few hours prior, and even with your valiant attempts to ward them off, barricade them away, your brain remained firmly stuck. You simply had to know what happened - your own memory drawing a blank from the time between Sanzu suddenly attacking you and finding yourself clutched in Mikey’s arms, corridors whirling past your shaky, blurred vision. It was just for your peace of mind, you tried to reassure yourself as you plucked up your courage; you swore you wouldn’t change anything about how you thought about your friend no matter what you learnt.

"Mikey, about Sanzu- '' You hesitated as that carefree smile was instantly wiped from his face as he turned to face you fully, any sense of playfulness the other had drained away in a heartbeat.

Despite his eyes being empty like they always were, they were a blank slate to anyone but you, the growing anger behind the facade of uncaringness was as clear as a lit neon sign in the midst of a winter night, a 180 from the carefree friend just a second earlier before you opened your mouth. The room temperature plummeted with those narrowing eyes, the quiet whirl of cold air from above only adding to the sudden chill of the room. “I told you to go straight to my room and not to talk to anybody. You disobeyed me.”

There was something about the way those words spilled out that frightened you - you had never been scared of any of your friends before, never Mikey - but there was no other way to explain how you felt in that moment, though you didn’t quite understand why. Maybe it was that icy look of lingering contempt for that poor pink-haired man, or maybe it was how menacing his aura had become, an almost overwhelming, radiating sensation of power.

But this time, against your mind screaming to roll over and give in, you pressed on. Mikey wasn’t going to hurt you. "What happened Mikey? I don’t remember much."

“He deserves it.” The hiss of words that came out were unlike anything you have heard spill from his lips, the way the usually hidden shadows crept up onto his face to accentuate that hard look only making the other seem more a stranger than anyone you knew. “How dare he lay his filthy hands on you.”

You’ve always known how overprotective your friends were, but this seemed extreme - had they always been this way? Or was this new, and you were actually in the future? Were your friends hiding something from you? Forcing yourself to squash down the questions that kept bubbling up, you instead focused your attention on the most recent events; if you asked all that ate away at your heart, you were sure you and Mikey would be all night, and you weren’t going to last that long in this cold that started to bite away at your bones. And the one question that you simply had to ask despite your sinking gut telling you that you probably wouldn’t like the answer: that echoing sound of gunfire that you could hear at the edge of consciousness after which Sanzu was wrenched off you, was that real or just your imagination? “Isn’t he your friend? D-did you shoot him?”

Unable to stop the shiver that seemed to shake your entire body before you got your answer, the empty spoon you had been holding fell back onto the porcelain with a clink as you instinctively rubbed both hands against your arms, and the white-haired man paused. The spell over the room broke, the tension lifting as quickly as it had weighed down on your shoulders. “I did what I needed to.” His answer came almost gently though with a sense of finality, one bony hand reaching out to ever so delicately grasp your hand even as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck, his other hand comfortingly rubbing circles into your back. “I’ll do anything to protect you.”

You believed him. Mikey did scare you for that few minutes, you wouldn’t lie to yourself, and you wouldn’t be getting any more answers, but you still believed him. That didn’t mean you agree with what he did of course, but you had promised yourself you wouldn’t treat such a dear friend any differently no matter what you learnt. Letting out a sigh, the warmth of the room slowly returned much like the rising of the sun after a frigid winter night, and you shuffled yourself slightly in an attempt to get comfortable while still balancing Mikey’s weight on your lap. Time for a change of topic, and you wondered out loud the first thought that came to mind. “Where’s Ken-chin and the others?” You hummed, reaching round the sulking man to spoon another lump of chicken and rice.

“Don’t wanna talk about that,” came his muttered answer, and your heart sank - there was just too much you didn’t know, and ignorance was proving not to be very blissful. Yet you didn’t push that either, not after such an intense day for both you and Mikey, though fortunately that seemed to bring other more acceptable ideas to his mind, and the man pulled away to look you up and down. “You need clothes.”

You blinked. “Clothes?” You still had clean clothes from your home.

“New clothes,” he declared, pulling the spoon to his face and chomping down, before continuing to speak with a mouth full of food. “We’ll have a party next week, I’ll introduce you to everyone, so let’s go shopping later.”

That same indulgent smile emerged once more, you letting out a laugh as you dabbed away from Mikey’s round cheeks the morsels of rice that made it out. “Alright Mikey. Chew and swallow first, okay?”

‎

Once the last morsels of food had disappeared into Mikey’s mouth and you had left the empty plate atop the dining table with much reluctance at his insistence, you were once more led down those same neverending corridors, delicate unbandaged hand held ever so gently in the other’s. On a good note you mused, glancing around your luxurious surroundings, you were at least beginning to recognise the few corridors you were walked down: the corridor that Mikey’s room was along, the large white-and-blue porcelain vase that denoted where you should turn for the bathroom, and the next corridor over the one that the two of you had walked towards the kitchens.

The hallways that stretched and winded away beyond your view, hiding in its unknown depths the allure of adventure and unmade friends, was tempting to say the least, but no matter your urge to wander and explore, you knew Mikey would never let you; and alas you were right, the man leading you straight back to the worn wooden door. With a promise of a short thirty minute wait for him to make a few calls and have everything set out before your little outing, there would usually be no reason for you to disagree. But this time there was somewhere you wanted to be, somewhere you needed to be to settle the guilt eating away at your heart with those precious few minutes of potential freedom.

“I feel bad, Mikey. I wanna apologize,” you protested right at the threshold of the room, with Mikey hovering right in front of you and taking quick glances up and down the corridor, anxious to get you inside. “Sanzu got hurt because of me.”

The other stayed resolute in his decision though, as you knew he would even in light of the very strong pout on your face. He never was really that weak to your puppy eyes like you were to theirs, you supposed, lightly touching the bag of extra karaage in your pocket you had snuck aside to give to Sanzu. “No. You stay here.”

“But Mikey-”

“He’s dangerous,” came the blunt answer, his grip around you tightening ever so slightly as he tugged insistingly at your sleeve, trying to guide you into the permanently darkened room. “And resting. No.”

You sighed, allowing yourself to be ushered into his room; there was no way you were going to win this fight. “Alright, alright.” Guess you'll just have to eat the karaage yourself.

“Thirty minutes, max.” Mikey swore, his hand on the doorknob with the door halfway closed. “I’ll be done in thirty. Just need to sort some things out.”

A click of the lock, and you found yourself once more alone, swallowed into the shadows. The minutes went by slowly, one second crawling by after another. After repeatedly sitting and standing up from the bed in an attempt to think of something to do, you were finally bored enough to explore the little area, though that didn't help alleviate your boredom much. Mikey’s room was sparse. There was no other way to put it nicely, you grimaced, pushing the near-empty drawer back into its slot, before closing the wardrobe door behind you with a soft thud where the wood met. Even with the little light that seeped in under the door, it was obvious that your friend had few belongings, and even fewer if you didn't count clothes.

It broke your heart. Plain walls with no windows, few things to call his own, and this miserable, constant darkness. Sure this wasn't the Mikey you knew, but it was still Mikey. What had he been going through?

Flopping back onto the bed, you let out a breath. You knew your 'return' had brought him a semblance of relief, but you couldn't stay here forever. You didn’t belong here - and you were sure your Toman friends were waiting for you back home. Was there anything more you could do to ease the pain he carried? Closing your eyes, the darkness behind your eyelids wasn't too different from the room's.

And without a sound or another word, you vanished.

‎ ‎

Across the city and tucked away in a quieter neighborhood, the same sun that was all but hidden from you behind the labyrinth of walls that made up Bonten’s headquarters shone prominently through open windows, though the fresh minds that the new day brought after a good night’s sleep didn’t quite seem to help ease the conundrum that the two men pouring over a whiteboard were stuck in.

“But what makes you think the other time leaper is her?” The former delinquent mumbled, letting out a sigh as he straightened for a quick stretch, his joints rusty from the week-long lack of movement after his latest lap in the past. “It could be anyone - maybe even Kisaki.”

“Yes, I get that, but she’s the most reasonable explanation here,” Naoto retorted, turning away from the picture of your smiling face staring back at him from the whiteboard. “The bounty appeared the day you said she disappeared.”

“Are you sure? It could be that you just missed the bounty previously. You mentioned that your memories weren’t changed like the last time I timeleaped?”

It seemed almost impossible to comprehend, the detective understood: the mere idea that there were not one, but two time leapers who could both individually change the future, it was hard to swallow to say the least. But it was the reality that they had to contend with and work around, and the faster Takemichi could bring his mind around to that, the faster they could start solving this mystery and change his sister’s future. Fortunately for the already irate Naoto, the annoyance that was starting to show clearly enough on his face that the other was quick to back down from his claims, Takemichi throwing up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, so let’s go forward with the assumption that the other time leaper is her. Nothing’s changed since Draken’s - Ken Ryuguji’s - death was prevented, but do you think he is alive now?”

A lightbulb went off behind Naoto’s eyes, and he rocketed from his seat, the former delinquent almost toppling off his seat at the sudden movement. “Wait.”

“Wait?”

“Could her time leaping be overriding yours? There’s been no major change in my memories since you met her at that fight, not even after you stopped Ryuguji’s death. Only the bounty that appeared after her disappearance from the past.”

Naoto’s living room fell silent as both men contemplated the latest theory. It was plausible, more than plausible even, given how much the fate of Toman in the past was tied into you, and now, how the future failed to shift even with another life saved. More and more, it seemed you were somehow tied into this entire mess, but how was the real question?

Takemichi let out a groan, ruffling his hair. This was hard, too hard even. “I don’t suppose we know if she’s here right?”

“I ran her name through the system, still only school records from 12 years ago,” the detective grimaced. “But if her time leaping works anything like yours, then she should be present somewhere.”

“And nothing on Mikey or Bonten yet?”

“Still no sighting of the boss, so we can’t be sure.”

“How bout Draken? He could still be alive.”

Phone clicking open, Naoto allowed himself to drop back into his seat. At this point, they had nothing else to go on, so any starting point is better than none. “Let me see what we have on Draken first - if you can write down some of the other Tokyo Manji founders’ full names, I’ll try to pull their records too.”

‎

12 years separate from Takemichi’s woes, the only thing on Sanzu’s mind was just how hot and humid the evening was, much like the previous evening, the heavy wind that plowed down the empty street only bringing more heat rather than the relief Sanzu craved. Running one hand through the sticky mop of drenched pink hair in an attempt to give relief to his sweat-covered forehead, this delinquent had zero doubts that the past two hours alone was already a lot more miserable than the entire yesterday combined, not even taking into consideration what had gone down before the sun sank beneath the horizon.

This part of town was predictably quiet at this time of the day - cars rested beside empty sidewalks, the chatter of voices and light thuds and clinks of people drifting down to where Sanzu walked the streets below, the sound of the occasional furious scribble of students rushing work lost in the background hum of the neighborhood, audible only to whatever gods they were muttering to. Stalking down the road that ran past your school gates, a single glance of the flawless nameplate, sparkling in the light of the sinking sun, was enough to push his bad mood over the edge.

“Fuck! Fucking bitch!” A black clad leg swung out, and its hapless victim, an innocent, empty garbage can that went rattling down the road, the clanking of metal against concrete cutting through the night. It was you, the boy fumed. This whole mess was entirely your fault. You had vanished into thin air, a fact that Sanzu would ordinarily celebrate given all the problems you brought for him if it didn’t only proceed to make his life harder. You were the one that forced him to waste his entire day on the hunt for you, all in a vain effort to ease Mikey’s suffering. And when Sanzu predictably turned up with nothing, neither were you there to see the pain you were putting Mikey through, let alone soothe his anger away. And after you stole his best friend away from him - well, former best friend. Small fact, didn’t matter. You were still undoubtedly the root cause of all this trouble - he’s no doubt heard about the growing divide between Kazutora and the rest of the founders - so why couldn’t his king, his whole world and purpose, just forget about you and move on?

A loud growl broke the Fifth Division Vice Captain’s spiralling thoughts, and one hand moved to clutch at his empty stomach. With the sun low on the horizon and the night looming in the distance, waiting impatiently for its turn to rule the sky, of course dinner was going to be completely burnt though, and Sanzu didn’t think he had enough money on him for some supper before bed. Definitely your fucking fault as well. Grumbling about stupid and unappreciative friends as he turned a corner, your quiet school block quickly disappearing behind the wall of yet another generic apartment complex, the delinquent paused for a quick break on his seemingly endless quest, letting out as a sigh as he leaned against a brick wall, pulling his mask down for a breather where no one would see him hidden away from the tired aura of nearby streetlamps.

Why did he bother? And truly, why did he? Looking up at the clouded sky, Sanzu could only wonder. It wasn’t the first time this particular train of thoughts had popped up - several times, in fact, over the course of the past two days. Right from the start when he got the call that you had gone missing from outside your school, and that all of Toman had been mobilized to search for you, he had always wondered why he should.

Weighing the pros and cons, sure it would bring Mikey peace and joy if you were returned safe and unharmed to his awaiting arms, and Sanzu was sure he would be at the receiving end of that gratitude and thanks from all of the Toman founders alike. Maybe he would even get the chance to know you better without the threat of being beaten to death, obtain the rare opportunity to witness and learn firsthand how you got his king wrapped around your glass fingers. But at the end of the day, it would only benefit both him and Mikey in the long run should you have vanished for good, Sanzu knew - the Toman boss would be free to walk his dark destined path with you no longer there to distract or weigh him down, and there would only be the loyal Sanzu by his side to aide him.

What to do indeed. Well he did suppose if anything untold happens, he could always just kill you. All for the sake of Mikey, of course, but that was if anything untold happened. Maybe you’ll just never show up.

‎

Resolved to give up the search and hit the sack if nothing turned up within the next five minutes, it was only then that the slightest flash of gold and purple caught the corner of Sanzu’s eye, and the pink-haired boy had to take a second glance.

No fucking way. This had to be the tenth time he himself had scoured these few roads, let alone taking into account the countless times the Toman founders had searched the vicinity of your school from roof to ground. How was it possible this had been missed? Seemingly carelessly tossed at the foot of one of many brick walls that made up Tokyo City was your iconic purple charm, gifted to you by Mikey and the rest of the Toman founders. There was no one in the entirety of the gang who would fail to recognize the onomori that usually hangs by your school skirt’s belt hoop or from the zipper of your bag, a clear indication of the eyes that watched over you and whose shadows you were living under. So what was it doing here, lying forgotten in the dirt? And how has no one found it till him?

The few rays of evening light that still danced across the apartments above mocked his turbulent thoughts: would he land himself in even more trouble if he picked it up or not? Alas all Sanzu had was questions, with answers nowhere to be found. Damned if he did and damned if he didn’t. Finally settling on picking it up first and praying for forgiveness later - it would be more criminal to let something that met so much to his king lie any longer in the dirt, Sanzu decided - he reached for the charm.

As his fingertips brushed the sacred purple cloth, a sudden gall picked up, rushing down the street with enough force to slam windows and rattle doors, even almost managing to bowl over the bent-over delinquent had he not quickly righted himself.

And as quickly as the wind had started, it was gone like the last evening light upon sundown, the world falling back into a stillness that felt out-of-place. Unusually still, right till a single breath had him shooting back up at full alert, onomori now clutched in hand - he swore he had been completely alone.

You blinked back at him, frozen as if a doe caught in headlights, crunchy, transparent bag of karaage in hand rustling away with the wind.

His jaw dropped as your gazes met, his made-up mind sent reeling again.

What the actual fuck? Was - was that really you? Or just your ghost sent to haunt him from the great beyond?

One heartbeat, two heartbeats; no one spoke, and the two of you simply stared down each other, Sanzu puzzling out if this was real life or just a dream and you doing…something. You were real alright, the boy determined, a very real physical body that cast a shadow, who had two feet firmly on the ground. But where did you come from? How did you suddenly appear out of nowhere? Were you hiding from Mikey or were you on the run? Yet for reasons beyond him, you seemed more perplexed at seemingly seeing him in one piece than he was at meeting you after you appeared from nowhere. “Sanzu-san? Is that - you’re okay?”

Was- was he okay? What?

“What do you mean?” The words seemed to blurt out before the usually unflappable Toman Fifth Division Vice Captain could bring his brain around. What happened? Why would he not be okay? As if his answering set off an epiphany, a lightbulb went off behind your eyes, those doe eyes sparkling to life as you alternated looking back down at your quickly cooling karaage and Sanzu - you must have the answers that he wanted, at least some of them.

You chose to bite your tongue and keep your secrets. “Here, take this.” Instead, with a single step forward, you closed the gap between the two of you, quickly thrusting the plastic into his free hand, a small, almost sad smile breaking out onto your face. “I’m sorry for what happened.”

The small motion, though careful, was enough to knock the onomori from his other hand, the delinquent’s eyes following its path through the air as it descended once more towards the ground, but you didn’t seem to notice as you backed off and away. And when he looked back up, you had vanished once more without another word, evaporating into the chilly wind that took your place as mysteriously as you had appeared. The sun had finally given up its place as ruler of the sky, the darkness of the night enveloping the sky as it sank below the horizon, the last rays of daylight swallowed by the stars.

If he wasn’t still clutching on to the bag of karaage, he would have written the entire incident off as a hallucination and been on his way. But now, Sanzu mused as he once more bent down to carefully pick up the charm with a handkerchief, tucking it away into his pocket, now he would have to consider what to do next. No doubt that this charm was somehow linked to your disappearance and subsequent reappearance, and the boy noted to be extra careful with accidentally coming into contact with it again - the last thing he wanted was to accidentally trigger you appearing again. So should he turn over your charm to Mikey and tell his king everything? Or should he just keep this to himself, keep his head down and go along pretending?

Absentmindedly, the delinquent picked out a piece of chicken and popped it into his mouth. Bad move, because he had no words to describe how fucking delicious it was, the karaage though lukewarm still exploding into a homely, lovely flavour that warmed his belly - was this what the Toman founders had to enjoy every day? No wonder Mikey’s pissed that you’re gone.

Maybe it would be better to have you back.

‎

Rather unluckily for Sanzu’s sudden change of heart, where you had vanished to wasn't anywhere that the delinquent could follow across 12 years of time. Arriving just five minutes before the white door was pulled back open, you were rather surprised to find that the sun had already set when you finally had the chance to step out from behind those intimidating glass doors of the equally intimidating building you called home for the past few days. Having had no window to look out from or clock to tell the time ever since you had met this version of Mikey, you had long lost track of the passage of time - how many days had it been since you’ve had the opportunity to take a breath of fresh air?

Maybe you should have asked the Fifth Division Vice Captain when you had the chance, but then again, you didn’t want to get him into any more trouble for speaking with you.

An arm snaked around yours to clasp your freezing hand in his, shaking you from your thoughts. “You okay?” Mikey mumbled, pulling you closer to him, forehead pinched as he scanned your face.

“I’m fine Mikey,” You hummed, glancing around as discreetly as you can under the other’s watchful eye. “Just thinking.”

The white-haired man said nothing, instead leaning his head against you. Needless to say, seeing how Mikey had reacted around you over the course of the past few fours, you had decided to keep your little excursion a secret from your friend. There was no longer any doubt in your mind that you had, against all logic and reason, time traveled - this must be somewhere in the future, though you weren’t sure how many years had passed.

But in that case, why did Mikey mention finding you? Was there no future you?

All you had were more and more questions.

The foyer of the skyscraper Mikey called home was completely empty save for the two of you, the high wall that ran around the entire compound blocking any sight of the outside world - an unusual choice given what you knew of Mikey, but things had probably changed. A car rumbled across the gravel from an entrance unseen, pulling to a stop in front of the otherwise empty foyer. Even as you were bundled into the car, the one thing that struck you was just how quiet the world around you always seemed. You couldn’t see the driver either, with the partition between the front and back of the spacious car up. Except for the two “friends” of Mikey you had met plus Sanzu (you weren’t sure if he and Mikey were still friends), the building seemed lifeless. Unoccupied. It wasn’t possible of course: there was no way such an enormous place could be kept as spotless or such a feast could be whipped up without an equally enormous staff. Maybe they were just ninjas, really good at hiding.

Lit signs and digital screens flashed by, and your mind was drawn away, and you clambered up to look out of the tinted windows in fascination, though Mikey’s arm tight around your waist remained. The city had changed in the unknown time that had passed, and you couldn’t say you recognised the Tokyo that was whizzing past you - there was an almost dreamlike feel and ambience to it, the area had changed too much - yet it was still undoubtedly the same Tokyo you had grown up in.

Barely noticing that the car slowly rolling to a crawl, the tug at your sleeve came as a surprise to you as it pulled up next to a sidewalk in a neighborhood you noted as a more prestigious part of the city - you don’t think you had ever dared venture here by yourself. “We’re here.”

“Here?”

But you were no longer as alone as you thought you were, the car door swinging open to reveal a mass of bodies forming a semicircle around the entrance. The silver of light that slipped through broad shoulders was just barely enough for you to get a peep of the surroundings before the group started moving as clockwork. Huddled as close to Mikey as physically possible, you tried your best to keep your gaze down and focused on your friend, away from the intimidating gazes of the heavily armed bodyguards that surrounded the two of you. A stark reminder that no matter how Mikey behaved and acted around you, the Mikey that strolled down the street, shoulders relaxed with one arm around you, the same one that had shot Sanzu without a second thought, was but a complete stranger to you.

The single row of double-storied shops with flawless floor-to-ceiling windows all bore names you could barely read, let alone pronounce, the interiors lit and gleaming against the setting sun in the distance. Handbags, sunglasses, clothes of every color and variety displayed proudly to the world, a siren’s call to those who sought the status they brought and a mockery to those who barely got by.

“Mikey.” A new voice cut across the rumble of the city, and your ears perked up. This wasn’t someone you met before. Gaze swinging up as the herd of bodyguards parted to reveal a man in a red and gold outfit, his white side-swept hair tossing lightly in the wind as his single gold-linked glimmered in the dim overhead light of the streetlamp.

"Koko." Mikey acknowledged, and you noted that his grip on you slightly tightened. The other had an air of confidence he carried that you supposed your protective friend didn’t quite like. But even if the newly named Koko noticed, he didn't mention it, cat-like gaze kept firmly trained on Mikey with nay a single glance in your direction.

“Store’s cleared and secured, had a chat with them earlier.”

No more words were exchanged, or rather no more needed to, with Koko sauntering off while Mikey moved forward with you, and you caught a quick side glimpse of the man. You don’t remember him from Toman either, much like the case with Ran. The two of you stopped in front of one of many storefronts, a few paces away from where Koko had just been, the polished wooden front door already neatly propped open. “Come on, I wanna start with the party dresses,” Mikey mumbled into your ear, close enough that his hot breath tickled your skin, though he quickly pulled back to stare at the ring of suited men that still surrounded you.

That seemed to be a cue, and no one followed you as you were tugged into the shop. Yet right on the threshold of the shop, you thought you heard what sounded like the click of a shutter from behind and you hesitated- it was hard to mistake the sound for anything else even from a distance, given the void of people along the rest of the stretch of road - but when you turned to look, there was no one and nothing to be seen.

“What’s wrong?”

You turned back. “Nothing.”

‎

A crystal chandelier. There was an entire chandelier in the shop, hanging from ludicrously high ceilings framed by two floors of intricate railings as you gawked at the sparkling teardrops that refracted rainbow rays of light. Well to be fair, you didn’t know what to expect - it was the first time you had ever stepped into a shop so fancy, but this was a next level of fancy. Marble tiles expertly shone lined the floor of the shop, with tasteful picks of carpet that broke the montony; vases of fresh flowers resting atop simple side tables that helped accentuate their beauty, with smaller chandeliers that hung through the rest of the shops.

But Mikey was hardly impressed with the selection, the white-haired man too busy tearing through the racks of clothes with a silent, polite attendant by his side, occasionally pulling out various articles that seemed to be made of ghostly goasmer, the fabric puffing up at the lightest breathe, looking over the piece with a critical eye and than back at you. When he amassed a satisfactory number, the attendant was quick to hurry the dresses into a private changing room that you swore was as big as your own room back home, before vanishing from sight, leaving just the two of you.

“There’s no price tag-” you swallowed anxiously, taking another glance round the store, your delicate hand gripping the parting curtain. How much did any of this cost? Should you even be holding this?

Your friend didn’t seem to have the same concerns, his facade shattering as he reverted back into the clingy, needy, baby boy you knew as Mikey as he flung himself on you. “I like this one,” he whined, pulling those puppy eyes on you as his fingers pulled at one of several dresses hanging from velvet hangers, revealing white fabric. “Try this first.”

“I-“ You hesitated, but as Mikey’s lips started to pull downwards, you found yourself caving once more to his request. “Okay, okay.”

A bright beam replaced the white-haired man's frown in an instant. “And show me when you’ve put it on.” He insisted, pushing you lightly into the dressing room.

‎‎

Waking into absolute darkness was not anything out of the ordinary for Sanzu, not after twelve years as Mikey’s loyal right arm and not much lesser as Bonten’s executor; didn’t matter if it was dark because he had blacked out in a questionable location where no light reached after too hard a binge on his favorite cocktail mix of drugs, or simply a lack of sight from not being able to physically open his eyes, he had done it all before. Countless times in fact. At least he wasn’t dead yet. But this time, the Bonten second-in-command noted as he tried and failed to lift an arm, this time was different. For one, everything hurts like an absolute bitch: his right leg was throbbing. The tell-tale sharp pain that shot up muscle and resonated in his thigh like a heavy gong was replicated in his chest, an incessant agony that stopped him falling back into the comfortable nothingness he awoke from - this was no doubt from gun wounds. He had been shot it seemed, though when and how would remain a mystery for now.

And for two, this awful stench: the putrid smell of heavily bleached floors that overwhelmed his nose, the odor permeating his throat with every breath he was forced to take. He had long forgotten when he had last been able to smell anything so strongly, and of all the things he could be taking a whiff of, that he rather be taking a whiff of: coffee, tea, or what of sweet, sweet orange candy? But noooo, it had to be this wretched stinkfest. There was no smell that Sanzu hated more than the overwhelming scent of supposed cleanliness and hygiene, yet here he was for no lack of trying. His arms and legs as if weighed down with lead. Where exactly was this? And what was he doing here?

Nothing made sense to his abnormally clear yet throbbing head.

“Well, well, well. Look what the cat spat out.” Make that three things that were different.

“Fuck you Haitani, I feel like I was hit by a bus,” Sanzu groaned out hoarsely, throwing a limp hand over his face in a vain attempt to block out the burning overhead lights which end with him slapping himself. He ignored the burst of muffled giggles from the side. “Need some fucking painkillers.”

“Doc says none for you,” another voice drawled out, right on the tail of his older brother as usual. Ah, so both Ran and Rindo were here. Fucking Haitani bastards. “Something about mixing drugs and dying.”

Eyes popping open at the denial of much-needed medication, it was in that moment that the pink-haired man finally recognised the god-forsaken Bonten infirmary that he had awoken in, the sole room he absolutely despised yet the only medical facility he hadn’t been kicked from and banned for life. Another shot of pain rocketed up his leg, a mocking reminder of his lack of drugs, to which Sanzu could only bite down the pain, closing his eyes once more in the hopes that the darkness would help soothe some away (it didn’t). Fuck him indeed. What happened?

He seemed to have said that last part out loud, seeing that Ran answered; the last he checked, neither Ran nor Rindo could mindread just yet, though knowing those bastards, it might be a matter of time. "We heard you fucked up."

Rindo continued. “Attacked Mikey’s little friend, nearly killed her. The boss didn’t seem too pleased to find you with your hands around her neck.”

“So he shot you,” finished Ran, somehow sounding even more smug than usual, an incredible feat in itself.

Words that individually made sense now strung into a sentence didn’t seem to add up at all; what were they talking about? What friend? Why would his king shoot him? “Are yall fucking with me?”

“Why would we? Kakucho told us everything.”

The mention of Bonten’s third-in-command was enough to open the floodgates of memories that had been suppressed by a combination of the trauma of getting shot and his wild day-long drug binge, those green eyes flying back open as your curious face hovering over him instantly flashed across the front of his mind. Scrambling to force his tortured body up into a sitting position, the movement almost sent the pink-haired man over the side of the infirmary bed, his gaze spinning and his head light. “It’s her?” His words came out as more of a croak, blown gaze sweeping the room to land on the silent black-haired man who he finally noticed, sitting in the corner busy flipping through a book - had he been present at the scene? Not that Sanzu remembered. "Did you see her?" He demanded.

The uncomfortably clean room fell silent, as if Kakucho was contemplating what to reply. The pistol very visibly resting in the other’s lap didn't phase Sanzu in the slightest; he knew why it was there, deducing that it was most likely a direct order from the boss to keep Sanzu from leaving, but he was still the second-in-command. Mikey's right hand. Any command he gave that didn't override his king's was to be obeyed. The pause before the other's response was short, and the reply was as simple and straightforward as Kakucho himself was. "It's her."

Ran nodded along. "Kind of a runt, highschool kid. Never expected her to be so small." Seems like the purple-haired man had his own little run-in.

"Watch your tongue," Sanzu snapped back automatically, though his mind was in a mess elsewhere. He had expected it, but Kakucho's answer still somehow threw him into a binder, the pink-haired man slumping back down to the bed. You. You were back like a ghost to haunt him. To haunt Mikey. To ruin their lives once more, like you did all those years ago. Why couldn't he get rid of you, put you to rest like an exorcist spirit? What did you want? But despite his initial surge of anxiety and anger at the mere idea of having to deal with you and all the problems you brought, he couldn’t quite grasp what exactly had pushed him over the edge.

You were no longer just the big, bad enemy that Sanzu had to get rid of to keep Mikey on his destined path. You were that feeling of a warm hug, of home. If he strained his fraying memory to the edge, the pink-haired man was sure he could still bring up a memory of a kindness that no one had shown him before you - a bag of hot, crispy karaage. A homely taste that warmed his belly on a bad day like nothing he had never experienced previously. His head felt…messed with? “Am I crazy?” He muttered to himself, before raising his voice enough for the others to hear. “I feel like my memories…changed?”

Apparently this was enough to pique Kakucho’s interest, as per the creak of his chair as he leaned forward. “In what sense?”

“Like - I changed the way I felt about her. New memories that I don’t remember having-” Sanzu shook himself out of the daze. No. He couldn't let himself get distracted - bribed - so easily. You were still the enemy, the largest obstacle he needed to clear from his king's life, crispy, home fried karaage or no. “Just me?”

Ran hummed, while Rindo scoffed and spoke up. “Just you,” he confirmed. “Probably the drugs.”

Sanzu tsked. It wasn’t the drugs, but he wasn’t going to get anything more than that from those bastard brothers. “Where’s Mikey?”

“Should be back in his room asleep.” The younger Haitani popped out the lollipop he had been sucking on, waving it casually in the air as he spoke, though the clear taunting smirk plastered across Rindo’s face said everything Sanzu needed to know. Back in his room?

“Wouldn’t you like to know~” Ran sang.

‎

Returning from the dangerous, dirty outdoors (or so your needy friend said) with an entire fresh new wardrobe was a good enough excuse for Mikey to insist on you taking another shower, and you saw no reason to disagree. The sun had already fully given way to the night sky when you finally left the shop and its exceedingly helpful attendants, though there were no stars to be seen from behind the heavily tinted window on your ride back to the gated compound. You were, funnily enough, thankful to be finally away from so many pairs of curious eyes no matter how discreet they were and despite how lonely you had been before; being at the center of any kind of attention was draining, but Mikey didn’t seem the slightest bit affected. But of course he wouldn’t. He led a biker gang.

Mikey didn’t let you see your new belongings being rung up, let alone the final total cost of the haul, though that didn’t stop you from having an inkling at the minimum number of zeroes that must have been attached to the end of the tab, an amount you had no hope of repaying ever. You did notice the other white-haired man - Koko, you recalled - had re-entered the store just ast you slid into the car; perhaps he was the one handling the payment? And if he was, well, you could only hope that he wouldn’t be too angry at the damage, even if Mikey had assured you that it was alright. The shopping from the trip had been neatly packed away, filling up some of the many empty wardrobes that lined the walls of the bedroom, save for the single mind-bogglingly expensive white party dress and accompanying shoes that Mikey had talked you into, which hung prominently from the back of his bedroom door.

You had to admit that the dress was perfect in every sense, almost like it was tailored for you: it hugged your body in just the right places, the fabric just heavy enough to not lift with a strong gust yet light enough that your fingers could drag through without resistance. Mikey was right, and you did like it a lot, even if you did initially think that it looked rather much like a wedding dress as opposed to one for a part; and you had to admit that you started looking forward to that party next week much more, should you still be here.

But now, even with Mikey fast asleep cuddled up in your arms just like the previous nights, you couldn’t quite fall asleep just yet, your mind preoccupied with the small, dimly lit screen of your phone. You had found it when your white-haired friend was out for his own shower, tucked away in one hidden corner of the room amidst the rest of the belongings you had arrived with in the future: school bag, umbrella, shoes and all. To your surprise, the network symbol held strong when you flipped it open for the first time in days, and you had no issues connecting back onto the same carrier you had used despite it having been an unknown number of years. Had Mikey also been maintaining this all this time?

Yet it was Baji’s number that stared back at you from the phone, his contact still seemingly active. Your finger hovered over the send button, a sudden sense of doubt settling on the base of your gut. What if- what if you were wrong? What if the number had already been transferred and you were just bothering them? Or worse, what if it was your number was the one that had been transferred and was instead the number of some criminal? And you got Baji in trouble?

The simple words dancing in the backlight of your screen now looked a lot more menacing than before. Maybe you shouldn’t, that nagging voice in the back of your head whispered, and your thumb shifted to hover on the tantalizing ‘delete’ button.

But then again, you reasoned, pushing that voice away as best you could, you would never find out if you didn’t send it. Perhaps you should include the name of your intended addressee, so all it would take would be a glance for the number’s new owner to know if it was a mistaken message - yes, you should do that indeed. What was the worst that could happen anyway, you consoled yourself, nimble fingers flying over the keypad; at most you will get a ‘wrong number’ or no response at all.

You squinted, looking over the screen again. Hi! Is this Baji Keisuke? This is - And there the cursor hovered as you reconsidered your decision. Mikey shifted in your arms with a whine, threatening to wake up and stir up a fuss if you didn’t choose soon. Finally mustering up the courage to add your name to the end, you hit send before you could regret your decision, shutting your phone with a distinctive click.

Quickly shelving the small phone back onto the empty side table, you made yourself comfortable, shifting slightly to bundle Mikey better in your arms and make sure that you didn’t wake with a dead arm once more; the night was already late, and you weren’t going to get an answer within the next few hours. No matter if Baji was still a delinquent, even he would be fast asleep by now.

‎

Three long, miserable days and two nights it had been since any of them had last seen hide or hair of you, and the cold war twelve years in the past raged on at full steam, threatening to escalate into a full civil war with every passing hour. The divide between Mikey and Kazutora was only spreading to the rest of the gang, complete with rumors whirling about Kazutora looking to split and start a rival gang. It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility the other four Toman founders had to admit, despite them failing to take a side yet - you really were the glue that held Toman together, and as much as Draken and Baji tried to reason with the two stubborn boys, there would come a time that they would have to turn against Kazutora, as much as that would break them, if you didn’t return soon.

The world for once seemed to sympathize with the poor mortals that inhabited the earth below it, overcast skies rumbling and mourning your absence. Everything just seemed that much desolate without you. But it was under an uneasy truce that the feuding boys met along the small side street near your school from which you vanished; Kauztora and Mikey all but staring the other down with unblinking empty eyes that held promises of pain and death, though their attention was quickly drawn away with the appearance of a masked, calculative Sanzu. Even before Mikey could demand what his former childhood bestfriend wanted, why Kazutora could question why he had summon them here at this godforsaken hour, the rustle of a plastic bag being pulled from the front pocket of his black Toman uniform pants. The sight of the onomori from the creation of the Tokyo Manji gang, the charm they had gifted to you to bless them with your constant presence, your bloodied charm; swinging innocently inside the plastic bag. “I found this just along the sidewalk here,” Sanzu explained to the jaw-dropped yet deadly silent founders, those pairs of predatory eyes all bearing down on him. “Yesterday night.”

If he hadn’t added those last two words, the Fifth Division Vice Captain was sure his head would already made an acquaintance with the ground. Or maybe he would have been dead. Maybe both even, given those glares sent forth by the two warring parties that stabbed at him.

One heartbeat, then two, and when Sanzu blinked - the bag was gone from his hand, wrestled away by Mikey, though the blond-haired boy wasn’t alone.

“You again,” hissed Kazutora, his fingers equally dug into the bag in an attempt to take your charm for himself. “You’re still trying to keep her for yourself.”

“And I could say the same for you,” Mikey retorted, eyes narrowing dangerously as his grip tightened. This was all they had of you, and this traitor wanted to keep it for himself? Unacceptable.

It was the plastic that gave way first under the might of both delinquents, tearing along the stressed middle, the onomori starting its journey towards the ground. All Mitsuya had the time to shout was “charm!”, and both pair of fingers moved to catch, brushing the purple cloth in an instant.

A sudden strong gust of wind almost rocketed all seven boys off their feet, rushing down the small side street as if a divine hurricane sent forth by an angered god. And only Sanzu instantly understood when from thin air you appeared, standing and blinking groggily at the herd of your stunned friends, wearing a set of evidently expensive silk pajamas that no one recognised. But you seemed a lot less surprised than them, stretching your arms above your head and letting slip a yawn before you began to speak. "Guys, I think I might have gone to the future," you mumbled.

‎

As the sun rose on the quiet Bonten headquarters, long after Ran, Rindo and Kakucho have left Sanzu to his thoughts alone in the infirmary, it was the anguished scream echoing down the corridors that wretched Bonten’s second-in-command from his uneasy rest. But he wasn’t alone, by the sounds of pounding footsteps that rushed down the corridor in the direction of Executive’s Row. In all the years they, the Bonten executives, had faithfully followed Mikey, the man had never once shown weakness, blank empty eyes always silently observing horrendous crimes committed in his name; yet there was no doubt. The furious, grieving, desperate cry, there was no mistaking who it came from, or what had happened. You had once more vanished from Mikey’s arms.

‎

Across a now bustling town, black-haired man stumbled out of bed despite the sun having long hung in the sky, smashing snooze on his way; those sleepy yellow eyes all but missing the new message that flashed across the lock screen of his new smartphone. And a few blocks away, Takemichi and Naoto stood determined outside a motorcycle shop, the shutters raised yet the interior still darkened.

“This is Draken’s shop?” Takemichi questioned once more, and Naoto confirmed. He had checked and double checked, and all the records pointed here. Given Ken Ryuguji was the only Toman founder outside of Sano Manjiro that Takemichi knew the full name off, and that he was alive in this time line, perhaps the former Toman Vice Captain would be able to shed some light on the twelve years that had passed - surely having been so close to you in the past, he would have kept his ear to the ground for any news on you or Mikey.

Takemichi took a deep breath, hand reaching for the door bell. “Then let’s do this.”

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appreciatingtokrev · 1 year

Text

can we just talk about baji & chifuyu for a second, please?

because i noticed something. essentially, baji dies to protect his friends, yes, but because he decided to do everything on his own, and not tell anyone. this is something chifuyu knows. to the core. more than anyone else, perhaps.

and you know what chifuyu keeps on doing? doing things all by himself, refusing to ask for help, and not even telling anyone what he’s doing. the same exact thing that led to baji’s death. which he knows.

idk. it makes me think. especially because he also dies because of it. in the future at the end of the anime. he dies in the same way baji dies, trying to solve the problem by himself, in private, and saving everyone on his own. and just like baji, he fails with that, but doesn’t end up mattering. because neither him nor baji managed to kill kisaki, but both of them set a baseline for takemichi to keep working on.

i think it’s a nice, though also pretty tragic parallel. (even though chifuyu doesn’t even really die, and, yk, the last few tr chapters. but i like to ignore those and keep the character development) still, what i think about most, is why. honestly, no matter how you see baji’s & chifuyu’s relationship, you’ve got to admit that they were pretty close, that chifuyu cares about baji a lot, and that he loves him very much (platonically, romantically, queerplatonically, whatever, take your pick). and baji’s death affected him deeply. so why? why would he, the one who knows best what essentially caused baji’s death, and who will never forget why he died, i’m sure, do the exact same things that led to baji’s death, just twelve years later?

i think it’s very in character for him, actually (generally i think that his character is one of the most consistent throughout the whole manga) but i’ve been stuck on why i think that for a while. because, technically, it’s stupid. and he knows that. he knows that trying to kill kisaki on your own will (most probably) lead to your death. and he still tries.

then i remembered this part from the spin-off: chifuyu really wants to join toman (because of baji) and baji is pissed off at him following him everywhere because of it. one day they meet on some random street, and baji decides to punch him once, so chifuyu finally leaves. he doesn't. baji starts beating him up. then, chifuyu starts talking about how his father died when he was a little kid, and how he died a heroic death, by saving a little girl, a stranger, from getting hit by a truck. and then he drops this:

and, damn, he really commited to the bit in that future. he literally died right in front of takemichi. before takemichi. hoping that someone, anyone will come to save him. and kazutora actually did, but he didn’t know that. he just hoped.

the sad thing is that at that time, in his eyes, it wasn’t even a heroic death. in his eyes, he failed. everything. he failed to stop kisaki, he failed to kill kisaki, he failed to save takemichi. so i kind of hope that he remembers the timeline, and realises that he did, in fact, die the heroic death he felt the need to accomplish because of his father.

anyways, now i think it makes sense that he did all those same things baji did. he wanted to protect people, he wanted to save them, and he wanted to do it on his own because he’s a stubborn little idiot and didn’t want to put anyone else in danger by asking for help. so really, it’s just a tragic parallel, but i’m convinced that chifuyu knew the whole time that what he was doing was so similar to what led to baji’s death, and that it made him feel very uneasy at times. he just ignored it.

i think chifuyu’s ability to commit to promises is astonishing. i mean, i’m fascinated enough by the fact that he keeps the hairstyle baji ‘gave’ him when he was twelve in all of the timelines, without fail. but the fact that he truly dies his heroic death... the chifuyu in that timeline might just be my favorite, to be honest. he throws all of his dreams away for promises he made when he was a kid. and he actually succeeds, even though he isn’t there to realise it in said timeline. which makes it all the more tragic.

conclusion: chifuyu is incredibly strong-willed, and holds onto promises for infinity, even if you might not notice without a little digging. and he’s very commited to those promises, too, willing to throw away the nice life he could’ve had when not trying to keep them. that’s why he keeps on doing what essentially killed baji, he wants to protect his loved ones and keep promises he’s made years ago.

#tokyo revengers #tokrev #chifuyu #chifuyu matsuno #baji #baji keisuke #matsuno chifuyu #look at me finally making one of those lore posts #i am now obsessed with this timline btw. not sure if i should laugh or cry #honestly he’s such a tragic character #i mean the fact that he loses baji is bad enough but like #gahh if you actually start thinking about him... poor boy

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ievaxol · 2 years

Text

We're in the homestretch of the hard times

(ao3 link >>here<< if you don't want to read on tumblr, spoilers for the manga, ~2k words) ---

It isn’t his Takemichi.

The world tilts a little to the side, off kilter and nauseating when Takemichi meets his gaze without the depth that had been there just a day ago. Chifuyu knows, then, that something isn’t right.

He’s always been perceptive, a good judge of character — perhaps that’s why the pool of people he respects is so small. He’s comfortable with that, though, taking his time to pick and choose the people that he cares about because once he does, Chifuyu Matsuno never lets go.

Baji was there at the forefront, shining bright and bold with fangs bared.

In time, others had proved themselves to him. Mikey, Draken, Mitsuya and Smiley won him over enough that on the rare occasions he has to fall in line behind them rather Baji, it feels right.

And then, crashing through, came Takemichi.

An idiot declaring loudly and openly that he would get to the top of Toman, eyes bright with determination that saw Chifuyu huff in disbelief. A guy like him? Top of Toman? But Chifuyu is good with people and he could tell that Takemichi wasn’t lying, that Takemichi would die to get there — so he offers a hand. A favor for a favor.

In Takemichi he finds a captain to take up the torch for the First Division, so kind that Chifuyu had cried with it when they came back from the battle with Valhalla. Takemichi had cleaned Chifuyu’s busted knuckles, wincing like he was the one hurt as he wrapped them up and doesn’t that explain everything about Takemichi Hanagaki?

After all that, after nestling in and carving a space for himself in Chifuyu’s heart — he’s gone.

Chifuyu can tell.

It sits bitterly in his throat, this knowledge, but he follows him anyway.

Into the depths of hell and back he follows the Takemichi that isn’t his, watches him sigh and grunt and dole out orders that take lives with annoyance pressing down on his brow, like it’s some simple fucking inconvenience.

Toman grows and grows and grows.

Chifuyu picks up Kazutora from prison and doesn’t flinch when he meets his gaze. A victory, given the way his heart beats out of his chest as he looks at Baji’s friend (killer), the way his hands clench around the steering wheel. He hopes that it makes Baji proud.

Kazutora doesn’t thank him, doesn’t speak — Chifuyu gets it. He wouldn’t know what the hell to say either.

Then he meets Naoto, stands tall as Tachibana Hinata’s brother casts his judgment upon him — he, who was there for Takemichi making the order. He, who presents evidence for it, face carefully blank as Takemichi’s voice echoes tinny from the small laptop, dripping with indifference.

The years go on, one after the other.

In the evenings Chifuyu curls up in his bed and remembers the hitching sounds his Takemichi made as he cried for Baji, as he cried for Kazutora and Mikey and all of them. How big his back looked.

These are the only times he allows himself to miss the boy who barged into Toman with not a single shred of sense in his body and tried to save them all.

Until the day his Takemichi returns.

He bumbles through the doorway and whisper-shouts that he has no idea what’s going on, as if the mere presence of him doesn’t make Chifuyu’s heart fucking soar.

It’s too little, too late, but still a comfort.

That he can see Takemichi one last time, can look into the depths of his ocean eyes and drown there rather than think about the cold steel kissing his sweaty forehead, can listen to the hitch in his voice instead of his own panicked pants.

He’s grateful for that much and for the first time in twelve years, he means it when he calls him partner.

A flash of white, a quick prayer, Takemichi crying for him.

Not a bad way to go, all things considered.

Chifuyu knows that Mikey is coming for him. He has known for quite some time now.

So it’s doesn’t surprise him when he hears the soft footsteps following him — Chifuyu has made his peace with it. He turns, face to face with his former commander. In the depths of Mikey’s eyes he sees nothing but darkness.

“Any last words, Chifuyu?”

He imagines that the other version of him that died to Kisaki felt the same sense of loss that Mikey does in this timeline, denied rhyme or reason. One day Takemichi smiles brighter than the fucking sun and the next there is naught but a pale imitation, a farce — it would infuriate him too, not knowing.

“Hanagaki Takemichi —“ Chifuyu starts, feeling like he’s floating a little. He’s not afraid even if he can taste the blood in his mouth already. He smiles, a melancholy thing. “Do you remember him?”

Mikey doesn’t react beyond an inquisitive hum, showing no signs of recognition. But Chifuyu is perceptive and he knows the depths of Mikey’s love, can feel its siren call mingling with his own.

As if Mikey could ever forget Takemitchy.

Not when he loves him so desperately, so helplessly; Chifuyu would know.

He’s the same, after all, forever changed by the knowledge of what Takemichi has done, would do, will do for them all. His partner in crime and stupidity, currently fighting for all their lives.

"He will come looking for you. When he does, it will be as if he travelled through time. It will be the Takemichi you knew — look into his eyes and you'll see. They never lie. Trust me."

The press of a barrel between his eyes feels strangely familiar and Chifuyu has to stifle a laugh; somehow he doesn’t feel like it would amuse Mikey as much as it does him.

No thanks, if he has to go he prefers it to be quick.

It is.

Perhaps it is knowing about the time leap that makes it so he can instantly tell when his memories are being rewritten. Chifuyu drops the bag of animal food he’s holding and vaguely registers it splitting, sending it’s contents skittering over the floor and pooling at his feet like blood — he has to look down to make sure it isn’t.

Takemichi — his Takemichi — is back.

A drop of ink slowly coloring a glass of water is the best way to describe it, the memories shuddering before they reform.

Deaths, erased. Funerals he went to never takes place. Injuries change. Chifuyu tries to recall Draken’s death but it’s mingled up with him triumphantly opening up his new shop, Kazutora’s rage at Toman’s legacy burns bright in his mind before it flickers and settles into a melancholy view of him filling orders at the shop Chifuyu now finds himself working in.

It keeps hitting him, throughout the day. The ink spreads, changes everything and he slowly forgets what things looked like before. Chifuyu closes the shop an hour early and races home with a hand clasped over his mouth, thankful that Kazutora — fuck, since when are they friends? — isn’t there to see him lose it.

Thing is, he’s pretty sure that he’s wired to fall in love with Takemichi in every timeline since they met.

So when he opens the door to his apartment he braces himself for a wedding invitation; things are still a little fuzzy but he figures it’s the logical step. He'll go to Takemichi's wedding, he'll toast to their undying devotion and then he'll go home and toast to his own, idiotic heart.

But there's nothing pinned on the fridge and nothing in his mail and Chifuyu tries not to revel in the relief it brings.

Two days pass.

Chifuyu still catches the tail-end of memories reforming but not at all like the first day, now it's mostly hazy details that escape him, slipping through his grasp and returning different.

He's best friends with Takemichi in this timeline, he finds — they spend time shooting the shit, watching movies and hanging out like friends would. It's normal for them to hang out, so there's no reason for him to tremble when there's a knock at his door, right? Just because it's his Takemichi this time?

He tries not to think about Mikey. Or what Takemichi will do once he finds out about Mikey, because he will. Through tears and smiles and declarations of love he will get them to spill the truth, eventually.

Then he’ll find a way to go back and save Mikey because that’s who Takemichi is at his core, isn’t that why Chifuyu loves him so fucking much?

On the other side of the door Takemichi looks just as determined as he remembers, blue eyes so, so bright with the flames that have kept him going for this long; predictably, his face crumples the moment he sees Chifuyu and fat tears well up, dripping down his cheeks.

"Welcome back, partner," Chifuyu breathes, which, fuck, he was supposed to play this cool.

"'Fuyu." Takemichi says it like it's a whole sentence, the sweetest sound in the world.

Chifuyu prepares to step aside and let Takemichi in like all the other times, like this isn't in any way heartbreaking or world-shattering. Like he hasn't waited for this at all, like he doesn't want to cry too, like it doesn’t feel like he’s swallowed coal with the way his throat burns.

But Takemichi doesn't move — instead he reaches out and draws Chifuyu in with strong arms, smooths his hands down Chifuyu's back as he holds him tight and wails.

He cries and cries and cries, until Chifuyu bodily drags him inside and somehow manages to shut the door so they can sink to the floor together, a tangled mess of snot and tears.

"Chi—fuu—yuuu," Takemichi draws out the syllables, like a dying gasp.

"Schh, you're going to get me to rack up a hundred complaints." It has no bite to it — Chifuyu would walk through hell for Takemichi. Thinks he has, thinks his body remembers the press of steel between his eyes. For Takemichi.

Takemichi snivels, noses along Chifuyu’s jaw and he stiffens because it’s a dangerous, terrible thing to do to him.

"I'm so glad," Takemichi mutters. "I'm so glad you're alive. Please tell me I'm not a giant dumbass this time — I don't. I don't remember everything yet."

"You're always a dumbass." Takemichi whines, entirely too close to Chifuyu's reddening ear. "But not that kind of dumbass this time around."

He sags with relief at Chifuyu’s words, going limp in his arms. It makes them slide down even further on the floor, until Takemichi half-lays on top of Chifuyu who struggles to support both their weight, bracing himself with a hand and sighing.

His chest feels like it's about to cave in on itself, with the burden of wanting entirely too much.

"You did it, partner." He can't help but turn his head, to nuzzle Takemichi's jet black hair and breathe in the scent of his shitty 2-in-1 shampoo-conditioner. An indulgence he allows himself, a greedy moment he steals and tucks away along the countless aches and bruises he’s resolved to carry for Takemichi.

"We." Takemichi mutters, in a tone of voice that brooks no argument. "We did it."

"Alright," Chifuyu laughs a little, incredulous — how can people love like this every day and not go a little crazy?

He wants to ask about Hina but at the same time not; the same way he wants to rip the band-aid off of the Mikey secret but also take it to his grave.

He knew all along that Takemichi could never belong to him alone.

"Chifuyu?"

He hums in response, hopes Takemichi doesn't notice the crack in it.

"Thank you."

And here is where Takemichi pulls back, re-establishes their boundaries and they spend the night reminiscing, catching up — all while Chifuyu gets to feel like he might die if he doesn't get closer much the same way he feels he might die if he does. Takemichi will tell him what changed in the past, Chifuyu will explain the future until they meet in the middle somewhere.

Except.

It doesn't happen like that.

Instead Takemichi pulls back and places a scarred, calloused hand on Chifuyu's jawline before he leans in, hiccuping still as he presses a wet and messy kiss to Chifuyu's slack mouth.

It tastes of salt and sunshine and Chifuyu thinks he might actually pass away with the way his breath catches and stays in his throat, eyes wide.

"I'm sorry," Takemichi murmurs — sounding not sorry at all. "I might not remember everything, but my body sort of does."

"But. We never —" Chifuyu watches a slow, bright smile bloom on Takemichi's face, unfurling like a present for him alone.

"I know. You don't have to do anything, Chifuyu — I must have fallen in love with you along the way. It's coming back to me, little by little. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I just —"

Chifuyu swallows the rest of what Takemichi is about to say with a desperate noise.

Their fingers interlace.

He prays it's enough to keep him this time.

(He knows it isn’t.)

#takefuyu #fuyutake #chifuyu x takemichi #cw death #death(s) i guess #spoilers up to chapter 200-ish #but they're very light #i needed to get this out of my system ok thank you #chifuyu is the number one ride-or-die character ever and i adore him #set in the future #tokyorev #mine writing #its messy and only lightly edited but its out #whew

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