monochromaticbeans

[monochromaticbeans]

Chapter 74: It's Been a Long, Long Time

Sakayume Finale

There's a bonus chapter at the end with Keisuke and Hikari's wedding. 🩷

Never thought that you would be

Standing here so close to me.

There's so much I feel that I should say.

But words can wait until some other day.

Kiss me once, then kiss me twice,

Then kiss me once again.

It's been a long, long time.

“It's Been a Long, Long Time” ~ Kitty Kallen

Hikari watched in horror as Takemichi started to fall. Her breath hitched, heart pounding, as she saw Mikey catch him, pleading for him not to die. But before she could react, her vision blurred, the world spinning and fading around her. The ground seemed to shift beneath her feet, and before she knew it, she was tumbling, the sensation of freefalling overtaking her.

She braced for impact, squeezing her eyes shut, expecting the harsh crash of earth—but it never came.

Instead, she felt something soft beneath her. Her body jerked violently, like waking from a dream mid-fall. She blinked, disoriented, only to find herself lying in a bed.

Not again… she thought, panic bubbling up inside her.

Sunlight streamed gently through a window she didn’t recognize. Early morning light filled the room with a soft glow. Still lying down, she turned her head, her heart in her throat as she took in her surroundings. Then her breath caught.

No… It can’t be…

The sound of her sharp inhale made him turn toward her. There he was, standing by a mirrored dresser, tying his hair into a ponytail.

“Shit, did I wake you up?” Keisuke asked, his voice light with concern, that familiar teasing grin forming on his lips. He was wearing a pair of light blue scrubs, the words Toman Veterinary Clinic embroidered over the pocket.

Keisuke. Her heart nearly stopped. It’s him. It’s really him.

“Keisuke…?” she breathed, her voice barely audible, like a whisper meant only for her own ears.

He gave her that same playful smirk, the one that tugged at her heart every time. “Who else would it be?” he teased—the exact response that Hotaru once gave her in another reality.

For a split second, she couldn’t breathe. She tried to sit up—only to stop short, her hand falling to her very round, very pregnant belly. Her eyes widened in disbelief.

Hotaru...

Without another thought, she rolled out of the bed in a clumsy rush, like a barrel on its side, and nearly stumbled into Keisuke. Tears spilled from her eyes as she threw her arms around him, burying her face in his chest, the smell of him—warm and familiar—overwhelming her senses. She gripped him tighter, terrified to let go, as though he might vanish the moment she opened her eyes again.

He chuckled softly, but his arms wrapped around her just as tightly, pulling her close. “Whoa, slow down,” he murmured, gently rubbing her back in soothing circles. “Are you okay? Was it another nightmare?”

Hikari could only nod as she sobbed into his chest, tears of joy, relief, and disbelief all flooding out at once. He’s real. This is real. The nightmare was over.

And then the memories of this timeline surged through her mind in a flood, each one filling in the gaps of this new reality. Everyone is alive. Toman is whole again.

Her heart swelled as she saw it all—Sanzu, no… Haru, still that mischievous boy she remembered. Kisaki, a friend? They were all there, with her at the shrine the day Toman was founded. And Shinichiro is alive!

Mikey, now a professional racer with Draken as his mechanic, their racing team called "Top of Manji." Koko and Kisaki's financial company sponsoring them. Tenjiku—not a rival gang, but a nonprofit organization led by Izana, helping orphans and kids on the streets. Senju and Haru, social media influencers with their own YouTube fame. Shinichiro and Inupi, running their motorcycle shop. The Haitani brothers with their nightclubs, Taiju managing his restaurants, Angry and Smiley running a ramen shop.

Hanma, of all people, a photographer. Hina’s brother, Naoto, still a cop, but now writing for an occult magazine in his spare time. Hakkai modeling, Mitsuya designing for the most prestigious fashion houses. And Chifuyu and Kazutora, her dear friends, running the pet shop where Keisuke worked during veterinary school.

She felt the tears flowing freely now, her heart filled with more joy than she thought possible. Everything was different—yet, everything was right. They’d saved everyone. And now, her future was safe, too.

I’m not Todawa Hikari anymore, she realized. I’m Baji Hikari.

Keisuke pulled back just slightly to look at her tear-streaked face, concern flickering in his eyes. “Hey, why the tears? You’re gonna scare Hotaru in there,” he said, one hand gently resting on her belly, feeling the slight movement beneath his palm. He chuckled as their son shifted in response. “Not yet, buddy. A few more weeks, and then you can come out.”

Hikari laughed through her tears, the sound shaky but full of life. She placed her hand over Keisuke’s, feeling the gentle kicks of their son. Her heart swelled with so much love it felt like it might burst. “I’m just... so happy,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “It feels too good to be true.”

Keisuke tilted his head, studying her with soft amusement. “I’m flattered you think I’m dream-worthy,” he teased, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “But I promise, this is as real as it gets.”

She let out a watery laugh, leaning into his touch. Was it real? Could it be? The vivid memories of all those other lives—those tragedies and battles, the sacrifices and heartbreak—still lingered in the corners of her mind. They felt too sharp, too detailed to be only figments of her imagination.

And yet, here she was. Safe. Loved. Whole.

Her fingers curled into his scrub top, anchoring herself in the warmth of his presence. “Sometimes I wonder,” she began softly, her voice hesitant, “if everything I went through... if it was all just a nightmare.”

Keisuke frowned slightly, concern etching lines across his face. “Hikari, those dreams you’ve been having—whatever they are—they don’t define us. What matters is right now. This.” He gestured toward the room, his hand resting gently over hers. “Our family. Our friends. That’s what’s real.”

His words were like a balm, soothing the raw edges of her heart. She nodded slowly, the knot in her chest loosening just a bit. Maybe it didn’t matter if those memories were real or dreamed. Maybe the pain she’d carried was just her mind’s way of making sure she appreciated what she had now.

She gazed up at him, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re right,” she said softly. “This is what matters.”

Keisuke grinned, that boyish charm lighting up his face. “Of course I’m right. When am I ever wrong?”

She laughed, swatting his arm lightly but affectionately.

A faint knock sounded at the door, and Chifuyu’s familiar voice called out, “Yo, you two decent? Kazutora and I brought breakfast, and you’re not skipping out this time!”

Keisuke rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “I swear, he acts like your cravings are his responsibility.”

Hikari smirked, wiping the last of her tears as she stepped back, her hands still resting protectively on her belly. “It’s because I’m carrying his honorary nephew,” she said playfully, her heart lighter than it had been in what felt like years.

“Yeah, yeah,” Keisuke grumbled, but his eyes gleamed with affection as he laced his fingers through hers. “Come on, let’s go. I’ll fight him for the last croissant.”

As they walked toward the door, Hikari paused for a moment, glancing back at the room bathed in soft morning light. The memories of her pasts and futures—whether dreams or reality—would always linger. She might never know if they truly happened, if she had really leapt through time to help save everyone she loved.

But in this moment, none of that mattered.

She had Keisuke. She had Hotaru. She had her friends, all alive and thriving.

For the first time in what felt like lifetimes, she was at peace.

With a deep breath, she squeezed Keisuke’s hand and stepped into the warmth of her reality, her heart filled with gratitude for the love and life she’d fought so hard to protect.

They made it.

She made it.

And everything was going to be okay.

🌸🌸🌸

Keisuke and Hikari's Wedding Day

The air at Musashi Shrine was crisp and still, as though the world itself was holding its breath in anticipation. The shrine stood tall against the bright blue sky, its wooden beams and sacred ropes adorned with fluttering white shide catching the light in a way that made them seem almost alive. The soft murmur of the wind through the trees was the only sound, and it felt as though nature had conspired to be a quiet witness to this day, their day.

Hikari stood in the shrine’s inner sanctum, her white shiromuku kimono draped elegantly around her, the fabric soft against her skin. Her hair, carefully styled, was adorned with delicate kanzashi, shimmering under the light that filtered in through the shoji doors. She was a vision of tradition and grace, a far cry from her usual edgy style. And yet, even as she stood there in all her bridal elegance, there was something undeniably Hikari in the way her purple eyes gleamed with quiet excitement.

She glanced down at her hands, fidgeting slightly with the sleeves of her kimono, her fingers brushing over the fabric absentmindedly. The moment felt surreal, like she was caught between two worlds—her past, and the future she was about to step into. Keisuke's future, their future.

The sounds of footsteps outside drew her attention, and her heart fluttered as she caught a glimpse of her soon-to-be husband approaching the shrine. Keisuke, dressed in a traditional black montsuki with hakama, his hair pulled back but still carrying that wild edge that defined him. He was trying to play it cool—she could tell by the way his shoulders were squared, his expression focused—but the way his eyes flicked toward her, the softness that crossed his face when he saw her, told her everything she needed to know.

He was as overwhelmed by the moment as she was.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world outside the shrine seemed to blur and fade, leaving just the two of them standing in the heart of something sacred. This wasn’t just about the ceremony, about the rituals they would follow or the prayers they would offer—it was about them. About the promises they had made to each other long ago.

As Keisuke stepped closer, standing beside her at the altar, Hikari felt a familiar warmth settle in her chest. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, his lips twitching into a small, almost mischievous smile.

“You clean up nice,” he whispered, his voice low and teasing, though there was a hint of awe beneath the playful tone.

Hikari stifled a laugh, her fingers lightly brushing against his as they stood side by side. “You do, too,” she whispered back, her smile soft. “Who knew you could actually look this good in formal wear?”

He chuckled under his breath, but before he could respond, the shrine priest began the ceremony, calling for their attention. The air shifted, filled with the scent of incense and the soft chant of prayers as the priest made his way through the sacred rites, blessing their union with all the quiet reverence the moment demanded.

They both knelt before the altar, the weight of the shrine’s history pressing gently around them. Musashi Shrine had been the birthplace of Toman, the place where they had once made promises of a different kind, forged a bond of friendship that had carried them through the most difficult days of their youth. And now, it was where they were making a new promise, one that would carry them into the future, a promise of love, of family.

As part of the ceremony, they performed the san-san-kudo—three sips from three cups—a ritual symbolizing their union and the intertwining of their lives. Keisuke carefully lifted the first cup, handing it to Hikari, their fingers brushing as they shared the first sip. Their eyes met again, and in that brief moment, it felt as though the whole world had narrowed down to just them, their connection filling the space between them.

After the final sip, the priest blessed their marriage, and as the ceremony drew to a close, Keisuke gently reached for Hikari’s hand, intertwining their fingers as they stood.

Outside, their friends and family were waiting—Chifuyu, Mitsuya, Draken and Emma, and the rest of Toman, along with Hikari’s parents and Keisuke's mother, Ryoko. The First Division had come in full support, each one dressed in formal attire, looking slightly out of place but full of pride as they stood to witness this moment. Mikey, standing at the forefront, gave them both a small, almost imperceptible nod—his way of giving his blessing, his way of saying he was happy for them in the only way he knew how.

As they stepped out of the shrine, the world outside felt brighter and fuller, as though everything had aligned perfectly for this moment. The soft warmth of the late afternoon sun bathed them in light, and the air was filled with quiet laughter and the soft flutter of falling leaves.

Keisuke, still holding Hikari’s hand, glanced down at her with a smirk. “Guess we finally did it, huh?”

Hikari laughed, her voice full of the kind of joy that had taken root deep inside her, growing steadily through all the trials and chaos they had faced. “Yeah,” she said softly, her smile reaching her eyes. “We did.”

They walked forward, hand in hand, toward their future. And as they moved through the crowd of their closest friends and family, Hikari felt the weight of her past, the memories of everything they had been through, fall away, leaving only the warmth of the present and the promise of what was to come.

[monochromaticbeans]

[monochromaticbeans]

Chapter 73: Vow

(Finishing the Kanto Manji fight!)

The Return of First Division

I came to shut you up, I came to drag you down

I came around to tear your little world apart and break your soul apart.

“Vow” ~ Garbage

The battlefield was a chaotic mess of clashing fists, and endless shouting. Hikari was in the thick of it, moving with precision and determination, but even with her agility and skill, the sheer scale of Kanto Manji’s forces was overwhelming.

She threw a punch, landing squarely on an opponent’s jaw, but she could feel fatigue creeping into her bones. Her breath came in ragged bursts, sweat trickling down her face as she wiped it away with the back of her hand. She couldn’t shake the feeling that they were slowly being pushed back.

Suddenly, a sharp whistle pierced the chaos, cutting through the sounds of the battle.

Hikari blinked, her head snapping up, recognizing the familiar sound but unable to place it immediately. Her heart pounded in her chest, but something in her gut told her that help was on the way.

Then, through the haze of dust and smoke, she saw them.

A group of motorcycles barreled toward the battlefield, engines roaring like an oncoming storm. Her heart leapt in her chest as she spotted Chuu at the front, his signature grin plastered underneath his mustache as he rode, leading the charge. Beside him were more familiar faces—guys from the original First Division. Some she hadn’t seen in ages, but they were here, and they were ready to fight.

And then, just behind them, two more motorcycles appeared, cutting through the fray. Hikari’s breath caught in her throat as she recognized Ryusei and Kojiro, having made the long trip all the way from Okinawa. The sight of them filled her with a strange mixture of relief and disbelief.

“They actually came,” she whispered to herself, a smile tugging at her lips despite the exhaustion.

Chuu’s voice rang out over the battlefield as he revved his engine, grinning like he was back in the old days. “Looks like you could use a hand, Third Seat!”

Hikari’s grin widened as she straightened up, feeling a surge of energy rush through her. “You always did have impeccable timing, Chuu!”

With a swift, sharp movement, Chuu parked his bike and hopped off, ready to jump into the fray. The rest of the First Division followed suit, a force of raw determination and loyalty as they spread out to back up Toman’s second generation. Chuu tossed a wink her way before charging headfirst into the battle. “Wouldn’t miss this for the world!”

Ryusei, not far behind, rolled to a stop beside Hikari, his usual smirk in place. “Heard you were making a mess up here. Figured we’d help clean it up.”

Hikari couldn’t help but laugh, even in the midst of the chaos. “Okinawa not exciting enough for you?”

Ryusei gave a mock shrug, glancing at Kojiro, who was already eyeing the crowd with steely resolve. “Something like that. Couldn’t let you have all the fun.”

Kojiro, quieter but just as fierce, stepped forward, his eyes scanning the battlefield for his targets. “Let’s finish this.”

Hikari nodded, feeling the familiar warmth of their presence bolstering her spirits. With them here, it didn’t feel like such a losing battle anymore. She glanced back at Ryusei and Kojiro, grateful that they’d come all this way to stand by her and Toman once again.

“Let’s end this, once and for all.”

And with that, they plunged into the fight, their shared history pushing them forward with renewed strength. Together, they moved as one, just like the old days, First Division at the forefront, unyielding.

Even amidst the chaos of the battle, Hikari could feel it—the unspoken bond between them. No matter how much time had passed, no matter how far they had traveled, Toman was their family. And family always came back when it mattered most.

***

As the battle erupted around them, the air thick with the sounds of fists colliding and bodies hitting the ground, Hikari's heart pounded in her chest. Chaos reigned as old grudges resurfaced, rivalries reignited like flames fanned by the winds of war. Mitsuya and Hakkai faced off against the Haitani brothers, their swift strikes matched only by the brutal, synchronized attacks of Ran and Rindou. Takemichi, heart heavy with the weight of the past, squared off against Kakucho, a friend turned adversary, neither of them willing to back down.

Senju and Sanzu, once siblings bound by blood and shared memories, were at odds, their clash a mixture of bitter regret and unspoken grief. Every punch, every strike between them, was loaded with years of unresolved tension.

But Hikari's eyes were fixed on one person, Hanma. His smirk, his mocking tone, the way he always toyed with the lives of those she loved, they all seared into her heart like a brand. Everything he did at the arcade, everything he did to Keisuke, to Emma, to Kazutora, and now to Toman. It was time for it to end.

Her pulse quickened, the weight of her resolve settling like stone in her gut. She silently called out to Keisuke, her heart whispering a prayer. Keisuke... lend me your strength. Help me do this, for you, for us.

With that thought, she broke into a sprint, her feet guided by something greater than herself. The din of the battle around her seemed to fade into the background as her focus sharpened, locking onto Hanma with laser precision, who stood amidst the chaos with that same infuriating grin.

He hadn't seen her coming, he didn't expect her to make the first move.

She closed the distance between them, her body a blur of motion. Her hand shot out, aiming for his smug face, her fist filled with years of pent-up anger, of all the hurt and fear and sorrow he’d caused. The sound of the impact reverberated through her, the satisfying crack of knuckles against bone.

Hanma's head snapped to the side from the force of the hit, his smirk faltering as he stumbled slightly. For a brief moment, the surprise in his eyes was undeniable. He hadn't expected that—hadn't expected her to come at him with such intensity.

"You've put us through enough hell," she spat, her voice laced with fury. "This ends now, Hanma."

The battle was no longer just about the gangs or the fight to save Mikey. She would do whatever what it took. For Hikari, it was personal. She would take him down, no matter what.

Hikari's every punch and kick felt like a strike from Keisuke himself. She fought with a fierce determination that had been honed over years of grief, of loss, of love. Her body moved like a well-oiled machine, each hit calculated and precise. The fire in her heart burned brighter than ever, fueled by the memory of Keisuke and the pain of losing Emma.

Hanma, though initially taken aback by her intensity, quickly regained his footing. His grin returned, but it was no longer smug—it was one of challenge. "You think a few hits will change anything? This is the real world, princess," he sneered, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth.

Princess. The word grated on her nerves, but she didn't let it throw her off.

"This is for Keisuke!" she shouted, her fist connecting solidly with his jaw. The impact sent him reeling. She followed up swiftly, not giving him time to recover. "And this is for Emma!" Another strike, this time aimed at his stomach, made him double over in pain.

Hanma staggered backward, clearly feeling the effects of her blows, but he wasn't done yet. His long limbs lashed out, and though he managed to land a couple of hits on her, Hikari barely registered the pain. She had too much at stake, too much riding on this.

Meanwhile, elsewhere on the battlefield, Koko's unexpected aid gave Inupi a fighting chance against the Legendary Duo. Their fight was brutal, the sheer force of the Duo's attacks threatening to overwhelm them both. But Koko, despite his cynical nature, couldn't stand by and watch Inupi fall. For once, he wasn't calculating profits or losses. He was fighting not as a gang member, but as an old friend stepping up in a time of need.

Taiju's arrival felt like an earthquake. His massive frame bulldozed through the battlefield, turning the tide against the Duo. Senju, still bruised and defeated by Sanzu, managed to call out to him, warning him of the Duo's signature move—a devastating, coordinated attack that had taken out countless opponents in the past. Armed with that knowledge, Taiju bided his time, waiting for the right moment to strike.

As the fights raged on, Takemichi and Kakucho found themselves united in a shared goal: stopping Sanzu's deadly plan. The sight of the freight train barreling down toward the battlefield sent waves of panic through both of them. This was no longer just a fight—it was about survival.

Takemichi's eyes widened in horror as he realized the true extent of Sanzu's plan. "We have to stop that train!" he shouted to Kakucho, who nodded in grim agreement.

With no time to waste, the two of them charged toward Sanzu, who was already grinning maniacally, enjoying the chaos he had unleashed. Takemichi's heart pounded in his chest as he ran. He had to stop Sanzu—he had to save his friends, to save Toman.

Back in the thick of battle, Hikari knew she had to finish this with Hanma. The weight of everything—Keisuke, Emma, Toman's future—bared on her shoulders. Her heart, however, was steady as a rock. Keisuke's strength is my strength, she reminded herself as she braced for the next round with Hanma.

Hikari went against Hanma with every ounce of strength she had left. She leapt onto his shoulders just as she did with Kensho all those years ago. Hooking her legs around him and twisting her hips, she sent him crashing to the ground with another headscissors takedown.

A small, quiet moment of victory washed over her, images of Keisuke and Emma flashing in her mind. This was for them—for the pain they endured, for the lives they lost too soon. She stood over him, catching her breath, her body trembling not from exhaustion but from the gravity of what she'd just done.

But Hanma wasn’t the type to stay down for long.

Just as she turned to run and help Takemichi, she heard the scraping sound of him pushing himself back up. She glanced over her shoulder, seeing him wipe the blood from his lip with a dark grin on his face. He laughed—quiet at first, then louder. “Don’t think this is over, princess.”

Her jaw clenched, but she couldn’t waste time on him. Not now. There were bigger things at stake.

She ran towards the freight train, where Takemichi and Kakucho were already in the middle of a heated fight with Sanzu. The sight made her stomach twist. Sanzu had always been unpredictable, even ruthless—but this? Trying to take out everyone with a speeding train? It was unthinkable, even for him. Her heart pounded in her chest as she pushed herself harder, faster, knowing that if they didn’t stop him, Toman as well as Kanto Manji would be annihilated.

Sanzu’s eyes flicked toward her as she approached. The katana in his hand glinted under the dim lights of the freight yard, its blade already slick with blood.

“Sanzu!” she yelled, her voice hoarse from the fight. “This isn’t you!” Her voice cracked, desperation creeping in. “This isn’t who we were!”

Sanzu’s gaze didn’t falter. “Toman is gone, Hikari. You should have let it die when Baji did.”

His words cut deep, but she didn’t back down. “We are Toman,” she shot back. “And we never give up on each other!”

As the fight continued, Hanma, refusing to be defeated, had made his way back into the fray, now facing off against Mitsuya, Hakkai, Chifuyu, and Angry and Smiley. Despite their strength in numbers, Hanma fought with a kind of reckless abandon, as if the pain only fueled him more. It was clear this battle wasn’t going to end easily for either side.

Back at the train, Takemichi and Kakucho were struggling against Sanzu, and time was running out. Hikari joined the fight, adrenaline pushing her past her limits as she aimed to help Takemichi disarm Sanzu before he could cause irreversible damage. They wrestled for control of the katana, Hikari managing to kick it out of Sanzu’s hands. But as they moved to stop the train, Sanzu lunged, grabbing another weapon—a knife this time—and went straight for Takemichi.

Hikari’s heart lurched in her chest. “Takemichi!” she screamed, but before she could reach him, the blade found its mark.

The world slowed as Sanzu’s knife cut through the air, and Takemichi staggered, clutching his side. The pain in his eyes mirrored the horror in Hikari’s heart. But before he could fall, Mikey caught him in his arms. Mikey’s face, usually so cold and distant, was filled with desperation.

“Don’t die, Takemichi,” Mikey’s voice cracked, his hands trembling as he held onto him. “Please, don’t die…”

And in that moment, as their hands touched, everything seemed to shift.

Takemichi’s eyes widened as the familiar feeling washed over him. He knew what was happening. This was it—the trigger for another time leap.

The world around them blurred, colors fading, as they were pulled into the next timeline.

[monochromaticbeans]

Chapter 72: How Did We Get Here?

How did we get here

When I used to know you so well?

“Decode” ~ Paramore

The freight yard hummed with tension as the two sides gathered, the once-familiar faces now split between Toman and Kanto Manji. Hikari's heart ached as her eyes fell on Mikey, his cold, expressionless face a stark contrast to the boy she remembered—the one who held the Toman family together. The boy who loved paper flags stuck in his omurice and always ate everyone's snacks. He was so different now, unrecognizable, and that emptiness in his eyes made her chest tighten painfully. How had it come to this?

Her fingers brushed the omamori looped through her necklace, a symbol of their beginnings, of the bond they all shared. She made sure it was visible for all to see—all of them who had once called each other family. This was what they were fighting for, the heart of Toman, the promise they’d made to each other.

She hadn’t seen him since that last night together; the uncharacteristic tenderness they’d shared lingered in her memory. She hadn’t expected to survive that night—had made peace with it. But fate, or perhaps something even crueler, had given her another chance.

Now, standing here, the inevitability of seeing him again gnawed at her, and she wondered if anything of that Sanzu still remained.

As the Kanto Manji gang gathered across from them, Hikari’s eyes swept the crowd, searching. She didn’t have to look far.

There he was, standing at the forefront of Kanto Manji, beside Mikey—the Sanzu she had once known, but so far gone now it was hard to reconcile the two. His hair was longer, his scars more pronounced, his eyes severe, sharper, and colder.

Sanzu’s gaze flicked across the Toman members until it landed on her.

For a split second, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of them. The tension in the air dissolved into something more personal, more complex. His expression was unreadable at first, but Hikari saw the flicker in his eyes—something faint, buried beneath layers of madness and loyalty to Mikey. Something that acknowledged her.

The moment stretched on, as if time itself had frozen between them.

Hikari felt her breath catch, her heart constricting painfully in her chest. She had been preparing for this, telling herself that Sanzu was too far gone, that the boy she had known was lost in the chaos. But seeing him now, standing across from her, something in her cracked. The memory of that final kiss, the intimacy they had shared in the quiet of her apartment, resurfaced with a vengeance.

Sanzu’s lips twitched, almost imperceptibly, as if caught between a smirk and something softer. But the madness in his eyes quickly overtook whatever hesitation had been there. He straightened, his usual arrogance snapping back into place as his hand brushed against the katana at his side.

And yet, that moment—brief as it was—was enough for Hikari to see it. The flicker of the Sanzu who had once cared, who had once allowed himself to be vulnerable with her, even for just a night.

As she scanned the faces of Kanto Manji, her jaw clenched at the sight of familiar enemies. Mikey stood at the center, Sanzu by his side, Koko just behind him. And then there was Hanma, smirking as always, standing among the likes of Madarame, the Haitani brothers, and the Legendary Duo of the original Black Dragon. It felt like facing down a nightmare, but this time, she refused to let anxiety consume her.

Her eyes narrowed when they settled on Hanma. "Hanma Fucking Shuji..." she muttered under her breath, the weight of their history hanging over her. "Goddammit."

Sanzu’s gaze flicked toward her again, lingering for a moment. In every timeline he’d seen, she was a beacon of strength and resilience, clawing her way back even from the darkest moments. And here she was again, standing against him this time, defiant and unyielding. A flicker of regret sparked in his chest. It was a shame, really. Today would be the end of Toman, and she would inevitably get caught in the destruction. But no matter how strong she was, nothing would stand in his way.

Koko's voice cut through the air, though Hikari could sense the unease beneath his teasing. "You must be quite the envy of many new mothers. Your old uniform still fits perfectly after having a baby."

She shot him a sharp glance. He was trying to get under her skin, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Not now. “Yeah, well, some of us have to keep in fighting shape.”

Koko raised an eyebrow. “I assume that means you’re ready to take us on?”

Hanma’s smug voice followed, dripping with mockery. “How is that kid of Baji’s doing, huh?” His smirk widened as he watched for her reaction, but she didn’t flinch. “Growing up to be a little rebel like his old man?”

Hikari met his eyes with a steeliness that made Hanma pause, just for a second. “He’s growing like a weed, more and more like his dad every day.”

Hanma’s smirk faltered, but he recovered quickly, licking his lips as if savoring the verbal spar. “Good. You’ll be able to tell him all about how his mom got her ass kicked in today’s fight.”

Hikari’s jaw clenched, but she didn’t let him rattle her. Not this time. She leaned forward, her voice low but filled with taunting confidence. “Let’s cut the smack talk. I’m on a time crunch,” she said, her eyes gleaming with a dangerous edge. “I’ve got to pump milk for him soon, so I’ll make sure to kick your ass as quickly as possible.”

The bravado in her voice left no room for doubt, and for the first time, Hanma’s grin wavered as he realized just how serious she was. This wasn’t the same girl he’d toyed with before—this was a mother, a fighter, and someone with everything on the line. And she wouldn’t go down easily.

The weight of the battle ahead hung over them like a storm cloud, but Hikari stood firm, the omamori resting against her chest, reminding her of everything they were fighting for. Toman wasn’t just a gang—it was their family. And today, she would fight with every ounce of strength she had, for them, for Keisuke, and for Hotaru.

[monochromaticbeans]

Wrecking Wonderland

A Tokyo Revengers x Alice in Wonderland crossover inspired by the Heart Kingdom Clash event in Pazuribe. Arisu is the White Queen, banished to earth years ago without her Wonderland memories.

Chapter 1: Somewhere in Wonderland

Somewhere in Wonderland…

The first thing Arisu felt was the wind.

Rushing past her. Whipping through her hair. Pulling her downward. Gravity, which Arisu had always considered a perfectly respectable force, had apparently decided to take a lunch break, because suddenly she was falling.

The world around her twisted in impossible directions—trees growing upside down, teapots floating midair, bridges curling in on themselves like paper being folded. Somewhere in the chaos, a voice whispered—soft, teasing, and entirely unhelpful.

"Wonderland’s been waiting for you, White Queen.”

And then—whump.

She landed. Hard.

The impact rattled through her bones, but before she could even swear about it, she realized she was no longer plummeting to certain doom. In fact, she was sitting.

In a chair.

A chair that had definitely not been there a second ago.

A chair that was part of a very odd, very chaotic tea party.

The long table stretched out in both directions. It was cluttered with teacups of every possible shape, size, and questionable level of sentience. Stacks of mismatched plates teetered at impossible angles, silverware moved on its own. A sugar cube executed a graceful swan dive into a steaming cup, landing with a polite little plop.

And across the table, staring at her with wide, golden eyes, was—

Baji Keisuke.

Dressed in an oversized, mismatched coat, striped pants, and a top hat that looked like it had lost a fight with a sewing machine, he held a teacup mid-sip. A single drop of tea dribbled down the rim as he blinked at her, processing the fact that a girl had just materialized in his tea party.

There was a long pause.

Then—

“Oi, what the hell?” Baji blurted out.

To his right, a smaller figure—Chifuyu, the Dormouse—jumped up from his tiny seat, clutching his teacup like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to sanity. “Where did she come from?! What did you do?!”

“Me?” Arisu sputtered, still trying to piece together why her bones were intact and why her brain was actively entertaining this nonsense. “I didn’t do anything! I just—”

“Ohhh, this is interesting.”

The voice slithered in from Baji’s left, slow and lazy, like it had all the time in the world and was very pleased about it.

Sanzu, the March Hare, lounged in his seat, grinning like a man who had just witnessed something hilarious and possibly fatal. His pink hair was a mess, his blue eyes gleamed with unsettling delight, and his fingers drummed against his teacup in a jittery rhythm.

“She just dropped in. Like a sugar cube.” He paused, then added, “Or a body.”

Arisu paled. “A body?”

Sanzu waved a hand dismissively. “You know. Something unexpected and messy.” He leaned forward, tilting his head at Baji. “So? Hatter? You order us a new guest, or is this a mistake?”

Baji finally set his teacup down with an unceremonious clunk. He gave Arisu a once-over, like she was an unusually shaped pastry.

Then he grinned.

“Well, you did land in a chair,” he mused, propping his chin on his palm. “That means you’re invited.”

Arisu gaped. “That’s not how invitations work.”

Baji shrugged. “Eh. Tea party makes the rules. You’re in a chair, sooo…” He gestured vaguely to the surrounding nonsense, as if that explained everything.

Arisu opened her mouth to argue, but then she noticed something behind him. High up in the trees, half-hidden in the shadows, a pair of golden eyes gleamed. Watching.

The grin appeared first. Slow. Wide. Disembodied.

Then came the voice. Silky, smooth, and twice as dangerous.

“Welcome back, White Queen.”

Arisu’s stomach lurched.

White Queen? Again?

No. That wasn’t right. That was definitely not right.

This was Wonderland. Wonderland didn’t make sense. Wonderland had never met sense and would probably be deeply offended if introduced to it.

And yet…

Something about the way he said it made her insides twist, as if a door in the back of her mind had been nudged open.

Across the table, Baji narrowed his eyes. His fingers tapped impatiently against the porcelain rim of his teacup.

“Oi.” He tilted his head back, peering at the floating grin above them. “You wanna explain what the hell you’re talking about, Cheshire?”

Hanma’s body hadn’t fully materialized yet—just his mouth, curled into its usual eerie smirk, and his golden eyes, glowing like candle flames in the dark.

“Oh, Hatter, don’t tell me you don’t see it?” His voice practically purred. “She’s not just another lost little thing that stumbled in here.”

His form flickered into full view, perched effortlessly on a tree branch, his long coat striped like a purple tabby cat.

“She belongs here,” Hanma continued, grinning wider. “Even if she doesn’t remember it yet.”

Arisu snapped out of whatever ridiculous daze she’d been in, slamming her hands onto the table.

“I don’t belong here!” she shot back. “I don’t even know where here is! Or why I fell out of the sky! And I definitely don’t know what you’re talking about with this ‘White Queen’ crap!”

Hanma chuckled. “Mm. Not yet, anyway.”

Before she could demand an actual answer, Chifuyu, who had been clinging to his tiny teacup like a life raft, finally lost it.

“You know what? That’s it. I’m out.” He stood, brushing crumbs off his jacket. “I signed up for a tea party, not whatever existential crisis this is.”

Baji rolled his eyes and grabbed the back of Chifuyu’s collar before he could escape. “Oh, sit down, you dramatic rodent.”

Chifuyu sputtered. “Rodent?!”

Sanzu, who had been enjoying the chaos far too much, leaned in, his smile twitching.

“So let’s say it’s true. That you’re the long-lost White Queen.” His fingers drunmed the edge of the table—twitchy and erratic. “Then what? You reclaim the throne? Overthrow Her Majesty?” His grin stretched wider. “Now that would be fun.”

Arisu frowned. “Who?”

Baji exhaled through his nose, rubbing his temple. “The Queen of Hearts.”

A shiver ran down Arisu’s spine.

Queen of Hearts.

That name—she knew that name.

Didn’t she?

Hanma watched her closely, his grin never faltering.

“The Red Queen’s been in power for quite some time,” he said lazily. “You might even say she’s the reason you ended up taking such a long vacation outside of Wonderland.”

Arisu’s breath caught. “I—I don’t—”

Hanma yawned, stretching like a lazy cat. “I’m not here to drop all the secrets. Not yet.” His golden eyes gleamed. “But I am here to watch the show.”

Then, just like that, he vanished—leaving only the echo of his voice behind.

“I’d hurry up and figure it out, Your Majesty.”

Baji huffed, grabbed a sugar cube, and lobbed it at the spot where Hanma had disappeared. It bounced off the air like it had hit something not quite solid.

“Fucking creep.”

Chifuyu, arms crossed and scowling, still looked unconvinced. “So… what. You believe that guy?”

Baji scratched the back of his head, staring at Arisu like she was a puzzle missing a few important pieces—like, say, the entire picture.

“I dunno,” he admitted. “But…” He waved a vague hand in her direction. “Something about you does feel kinda familiar.”

Arisu clenched her fists. “That’s impossible. I’ve never been here before.”

Baji didn’t argue, but his gaze lingered on her, like he was trying to remember a song he’d heard once in a dream.

Then he stretched, cracking his back with the ease of someone who had fully embraced Wonderland’s complete disregard for comfortable furniture.

“Welp. No use sitting around. If you are some long-lost queen, we should probably figure that out before the actual queen decides to lop your head off.”

Arisu stiffened. “Excuse me?”

Sanzu let out a delighted cackle. “Ohhh, yeah. If Emma finds out you’re back?” He grinned, teeth flashing like the sharp edge of a knife. “She’s gonna want your head on a nice, shiny platter.”

Arisu paled. “Wait—Emma? She's the Queen of Hearts?”

Baji’s mouth curled into a grin. “What, you know her?”

Arisu hesitated. The name felt… familiar. But in the same way that déjà vu felt familiar—like something lurking in the back of her mind, just out of reach, waving politely but refusing to step into the light.

“I—”

Before she could finish that thought, a distant trumpet blared.

Chifuyu tensed. “Shit.”

Sanzu’s smirk widened. “Well. That didn’t take long.”

Baji turned toward the sound, already rolling his shoulders like he was preparing for something inconveniently official.

“Guards.”

Arisu’s stomach twisted. “Are they—”

Baji grabbed her wrist. “Yep. Time to go.”

Without further discussion, he yanked her forward, dragging her into a full sprint away from the tea party—straight into the madness of Wonderland.

[monochromaticbeans]

Chapter 71: Gonna Show You

But I'm gonna show you, baby, that a woman can be tough.

“Piece of My Heart” ~ Janis Joplin

As Hikari and Senju stood in the gym, Hikari stretched, feeling the familiar tension and release of her muscles as she prepared herself for the sparring session. Her body, though a little different since giving birth to Hotaru, still carried the instinct and muscle memory of all the fight training she’d done before her pregnancy. She was determined to get back in top shape for the battle against Kanto Manji, and Senju had graciously agreed to help her.

“You’ve still got it,” Senju said with a grin, watching as Hikari completed her warm-up. “I can tell.”

Hikari smiled back, rolling her shoulders. “It feels good to move again.” She glanced at the punching bag, her mind drifting toward the fight looming ahead. “This battle is going to be intense. I have to be ready.”

Senju nodded, her smile fading slightly as they both thought about the gravity of what lay ahead. “It’s not going to be easy,” she said softly, stepping up beside Hikari. “Especially with Haru and Koko on the other side.”

Hikari’s expression darkened slightly at the mention of Sanzu. She still couldn’t fully reconcile the version of him she’d known as a teenager with the man he would become in Bonten. The Sanzu she met at the dojo had always been a bit unpredictable, but now? He was someone else entirely, much more like the dangerous version of himself in that bleak timeline. “Yeah… I hope it doesn’t come to that. Fighting against people who used to be part of Toman, part of our family, it’s—” She paused, shaking her head. “It’s hard to think about.”

Senju nodded, her own expression conflicted. “I get it. I still care about Haru, you know. He’s my brother. And I know he hates me and he’s done terrible things—but part of me still wants to protect him. It’s stupid, isn’t it?”

Hikari softened, shaking her head. “It’s not stupid, Senju. It’s human. You can’t just turn off how you feel about someone, especially when they’re family. I’m the same way. I don’t want to fight him. Or Koko.” She sighed, wrapping her hands in preparation for their session. “But I will if I have to.”

“Yeah,” Senju agreed, her voice quiet. “We have to fight for Toman, and that means making hard choices. Even if it means going up against people we care about.” She paused, studying Hikari with a thoughtful expression. “You’re still a sap, you know that?”

Hikari laughed softly, the tension easing just a little. “I am. Keisuke used to tease me about that all the time. But you know what? I don’t mind. That’s who I am.”

“And that’s why you’re strong,” Senju said firmly. “Caring doesn’t make you weak, Hikari. It makes you tougher than people like Sanzu or Koko, because you still have something worth fighting for. You’ve got Hotaru, Toman, and Baji’s memory. That’s your strength.”

Hikari felt a lump form in her throat at Senju’s words, but she nodded. “Yeah. I have to keep that in mind. For them.”

Senju gave her a playful nudge. “Come on then, show me how strong you are, ‘Toman’s princess.’” She grinned, using the nickname that Hikari hated with a blazing passion.

Hikari rolled her eyes, but the challenge in Senju’s tone lit a spark in her. “I told you not to call me that.”

“Make me stop,” Senju playfully taunted, taking her stance.

The two of them moved fluidly into their sparring session, the air filling with the sound of fists meeting pads and feet shuffling across the mat. Hikari’s movements were still sharp. Each punch and kick felt like reclaiming a piece of herself. She was getting back to who she used to be, and with Senju’s help, she knew she’d be ready for whatever lay ahead.

Still, the thought of the upcoming battle lingered in the back of her mind. Could she face Sanzu? Could she face Koko? She didn’t know for sure, but one thing was certain: she wasn’t going to let sentiment stop her from protecting what mattered most. Not this time.

***

Hikari stood outside Ryoko’s apartment, holding Hotaru tightly in her arms, her heart pounding as the significance of the day settled over her. This battle was unlike any other—this was their final stand, the second generation of Toman rising to save Mikey from the darkness. And with that weight, she knew she had to leave Hotaru in safe hands.

Ryoko greeted her with a sad, knowing smile as she took Hotaru into her arms. “You take care of yourself, Hikari,” she said softly, brushing a hand over her grandson’s soft hair. “Come back to us, alright?”

“I will,” Hikari whispered, leaning down to kiss Hotaru’s head. She took a deep breath, trying to steady the storm of emotions swirling inside her. “I’ll be back before you know it, little firefly.”

Just as she was about to leave, Ryoko reached out and gently touched her arm. “Wait, Hikari,” she said, her voice soft but filled with purpose. “There’s something I found while I was going through Keisuke’s things. I think he meant for you to have it.”

Hikari turned, her eyes widening as Ryoko placed a small, worn omamori into her hands. It was the same one from the day Toman was founded. The sight of it caused a rush of memories to flood her mind—their promise to always protect each other, the bond they’d formed that day, unbreakable and eternal. She felt her throat tighten, her heart aching with the memory of Keisuke and the dreams they had once shared.

“Take it with you,” Ryoko said quietly. “He’s still watching over all of you.”

Hikari nodded, swallowing hard as she clutched the omamori tightly in her hand. “Thank you, Ryoko. I’ll make sure Toman knows he’s with us.”

As she arrived at the gathering point, the tension in the air was palpable. The members of Toman—new and old—were preparing for the battle of their lives. Hikari stood before them, the omamori clutched in her hand. She took a deep breath, raising her voice to speak. “Before we head into battle, I want to show you something.”

The group fell silent as she held up the small, worn charm. “Keisuke’s mom found this in his room. This is the omamori from the day we founded Toman. We made a promise that day—to protect each other, no matter what. And today, we’re keeping that promise.”

The sight of the omamori stirred something deep within the group. It was as if Baji’s spirit, his determination, and his loyalty were still with them, guiding them into battle. Murmurs of agreement spread through the crowd, and the air seemed to shift—hope and determination filling the space where fear had lingered.

Just then, Hikari’s eyes caught a flicker of blue out of the corner of her vision. She turned her head and saw a delicate blue butterfly, flitting around the gathered Toman members. Her breath caught in her throat, her heart skipping a beat. It was the same kind of butterfly she saw that day at Keisuke's grave when she brought newborn Hotaru to him.

“He’s here with us,” she whispered, nudging Chifuyu and pointing to the butterfly. Her voice was filled with conviction, her hand clutching the omamori and the pendant around her neck. “We won’t lose.”

Chifuyu looked at the butterfly, his eyes softening as he nodded. “Yeah… He’s always with us.”

The butterfly hovered for a moment before fluttering off into the distance, a silent reminder of the strength and love that still lingered, even after all this time. With the omamori in her hand and the memory of Keisuke in her heart, Hikari felt a renewed sense of purpose. No matter what happened today, they wouldn’t lose. Not with Keisuke's spirit standing beside them.

They were Toman—together, always. And they would fight to protect each other, just as they had promised all those years ago.

[monochromaticbeans]

🌸Safer This Way

Chapter 7 Where the Blossoms Fell

Sayuri's breath caught in her throat as she stared at the message on the screen.

Unknown Number:

Did you like the present I left for you?

Her hands trembled and fear gripped her stomach with an iron fist. Not only did that awful man invade her apartment, but now he had her phone number as well.

Sanzu snatched the phone from her hands and pried it open in a blaze of fury. He wrenched the battery out and Sayuri flinched as he threw it across the room, sending it skidding into the kitchen. “Goddammit!”

He tossed the dead phone onto the coffee table, a deep scowl etched on his face. Pacing like a caged lion, he ran a hand through his hair.

Fuck! Why hadn't he thought of her phone before? It wasn't like him to overlook something so obvious. Tracking someone's mobile was such an easy way to find them. He'd done it himself countless times. And Jiro probably had as well. Which meant… he knew where Sayuri was.

“It's not safe here anymore,” Sanzu said, his voice betraying the mix of anger and worry swirling within him. “I have to get you out of here.”

“But… where will we go?”

Sanzu drew in a deep breath to steady his nerves. There was only one place left—a place no one other than Mikey knew about. “To the last resort. Pack a suitcase. We're leaving in twenty minutes.”

Sayuri's head was spinning as she got dressed. Her thoughts were nothing more than a jumbled mess of anxiety. She could hear Sanzu on the phone in the living room, and although she couldn't make out his words, his tone said it all. She was in grave danger.

🌸🌸🌸

Making their way through the parking garage, Sayuri and Sanzu passed the black sports car. On the far side, half hidden behind a cement pillar, sat a parked delivery van—one just like the thousands, possibly millions, that zip up and down roads literally all over the world. Except for maybe Antarctica. Maybe.

Sanzu unlocked the doors and slid Sayuri's suitcase into the back. He grabbed a black knit cap and began tucking up his pink hair, checking his reflection in the side view mirror to be sure none was visible.

“Get in the back and stay down. Out of sight,” he instructed as he put on a blue jacket with the delivery company logo on the sleeves.

Sayuri nodded silently and climbed in, nestled among dozens of fake packages and shipping envelopes. No seat, no seat belt, just the bare metal floor. If Sanzu drove this thing the way he drove his car, she'd slide around like a bar of soap in wet hands.

Sanzu, in the blue jacket and knit cap, hooked a black mask over his ears before hiding his eyes behind a pair of sunglasses. With none of his distinctive features visible now, he appeared to simply be a nameless, faceless courier.

The van wove through the streets and roads of Tokyo, obeying every traffic law and keeping under the speed limit. They were essentially invisible, hiding in plain sight as they left the city behind.

“Where are we going?” Sayuri asked quietly, her voice barely audible over the road noise.

“Somewhere nobody in their right mind would want to be.” Sanzu's words were a bit muffled beneath the black mask. It'd been ages since he wore one, and although it was stuffy and humid underneath, it didn't take long for him to get used to it again.

Nobody in their right mind. It almost made him chuckle. He hadn't been in his right mind for years. Even Mikey had raised an eyebrow when Sanzu told him about the hidden safe house.

Sayuri looked up at him expectantly from the back floorboard. “Well? Are you going to tell me?”

He glanced at her before answering. Hopefully she wouldn't freak out. “Aokigahara Forest.”

“What?” she sputtered. “Are you serious?” The mere thought of it sent a shiver down her spine. All the poor, lost souls there—believing they had no other option than to disappear into the forest and never return.

“Yes, I'm serious,” he replied, keeping his eyes on the road in the fading daylight. Of all the places in Japan to lay low, Aokigahara was one of the last where anyone would think to look. Which is precisely why he chose it.

As he turned onto a gravel road, all Sayuri could see was a thick canopy of trees consuming the sky. Sanzu took off the sunglasses and tossed them on top of the dashboard along with the black mask. Navigating the narrow path with its twists and turns was challenging enough, even without the recent rainfall adding a layer of mud.

After a good twenty minutes on the gravel road, the safe house finally came into view. Its silhouette was barely visible in the dim light as Sanzu brought the van to a stop and cut the engine.

Sayuri opened the door and stepped out, stretching her legs. The scent of moss and damp earth hung in the patchy fog that hadn't decided if it wanted to settle in yet. The forest was impossibly still and quiet—nothing else to be heard except their breathing and shuffling about.

“This is it?” Sayuri asked, her voice wavering.

Sanzu grabbed her suitcase from the back of the van and slammed the doors shut. “Yeah.”

He motioned for her to follow, his boots crunching softly against the gravel path as they made their way toward the house. The closer they got, the more Sayuri could make out—the sliding shoji doors, the narrow engawa wrapping around the side, and the small stone lantern half-hidden by overgrown grass.

And the motion sensor cameras hanging from the corners of the roof.

The interior was just as stark and quiet as the forest outside. Sliding doors separated the rooms, and the light scent of old wood lingered in the air. Sayuri’s eyes drifted over the sparse furniture—a low table in the living room, a single futon folded neatly in the bedroom, and a small kitchen with only the bare essentials.

“It’s not the Palace Hotel,” Sanzu said, setting her suitcase down by the wall. “But you'll be safe.”

Sayuri nodded, her gaze falling to the tatami mats beneath her feet. The silence was unnerving, and the exhaustion from the drive left her too tired to argue.

Sanzu glanced at her, noticing the way her shoulders sagged. “I stocked the place with food and water. There’s a first-aid kit in the kitchen if you need it. And a phone. Do not call anyone other than me, and only if it's an emergency. Got it?”

“Got it,” she murmured.

He stood there for a moment, debating whether to say more or not. Finally, he turned toward the door. “I’ll check in soon.”

Sayuri’s head shot up. “Wait—you’re leaving?”

“Yeah.” He paused, his hand resting on the doorframe. “You’ll be fine here. Just stay put.”

As the door closed behind him, the weight of the situation hit her like a hammer. She was alone, in the middle of a forest known for its ghosts and tragedies, with no one to rely on but Sanzu—and now he was gone.

The house was supposed to feel safe, but all she felt was alone.

She heard the van’s door slam shut and the engine turn over. Not but a breath later, the sound of spinning tires and a string of obscenities cut through the night. The tires spun and slipped again, and again, followed by more cursing before the van door slammed shut for the second time.

Sanzu flung the front door open and stepped back into the house. He ran a hand through his hair, drawing in a deep breath to settle himself.

“It's fucking stuck,” he said, voice thick with frustration. “Fucking stuck in the fucking mud.”

Sayuri watched him pull his shoes off, dropping them to the floor with a dull thud.

“So, you're staying?” she asked, trying to hide the relief in her voice but not doing a very convincing job of it.

Sanzu glanced at her just in time to catch the expectant look in her eyes. “Yeah. I'm staying,” he answered. “At least until tomorrow.”

There wasn't any point in fumbling around in the dark to free the van. He flopped down on a kitchen chair as exhaustion overtook him. Even if he did manage to get it unstuck, he was far too tired to make the three hour drive back to Tokyo—not without popping a couple of stimulants, which were hidden in his bedside drawer. Not much help there.

Then, it hit him. There's only one bed.

“I'll sleep in the van,” he grumbled.

Sayuri shook her head softly. “No, don't do that.”

“It's fine. I've slept in worse places.” He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, slouching back in the chair.

Sayuri stepped closer. “And I'm telling you. You don't have to do that,” she said.

“Well, you're definitely not sleeping out there.” No way in hell was he going to let that happen.

“I'm not,” she replied. Her voice was soft but firm, and her expression not quite readable. “And neither are you.”

Sanzu sat quietly, caught off guard. Surely, she wasn't implying that they should share the bed. After that little incident on the couch, the way she curled up on him, wearing his t-shirt and her silk panties, rubbing against him in her sleep—he couldn't handle anything like that again.

“I'll stay on my side. I promise,” Sayuri added as if reading his mind.

But it wasn't only a matter of her staying on her side of the bed. It was about being in the same bed with her. It was hard enough as it was to not give in, take her into his arms, and never let go.

She was in danger because she got too close to him. He'd already made her cry once. Even in the damn dream, past-life, whatever the hell it was, she died in his arms. He never wanted to feel that heartbreak—that guilt—that the dream always left him with.

“Come on, you're practically dead on your feet and so am I,” Sayuri said, holding her hand out to him. “Let’s go get some rest.”

Sanzu stared at her outstretched hand and her softened expression. Why is she looking after him when it's supposed to be the other way around? And why, for the life of him, can't he seem to say ‘no’ to her?

With a resigned sigh, he took her hand and stood.

Sayuri led him toward the bedroom, their fingers barely touching before Sanzu pulled his hand away, stuffing it into his pocket as if the contact had burned him. She didn’t say anything—just glanced at him over her shoulder before sliding the shoji door open.

The room was small and sparsely furnished, just like the rest of the house. A single futon lay folded in the middle of the tatami floor, along with a thick, dark blanket. The air inside was cool, laced with the scent of cedar and old paper. It should have felt peaceful, but the silence pressed down on them like a weighted blanket.

Sanzu exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face. This is fine. It’s just one night. I can handle this.

Sayuri sat on the edge of the futon, pulling off her socks and rubbing at her sore calves. He watched her, noting the way her shoulders curved inward slightly, how her fingers trembled just the tiniest bit before she curled them into the soft cotton of her sleepwear.

She was exhausted.

And she’s here, alone, in his world, because of him.

He turned away, shrugging off the blue delivery jacket and tossing it onto a chair in the corner before dropping down onto the futon beside her. The mattress shifted slightly under his weight, and for a moment, neither of them moved.

Sayuri was the first to break the silence. “Are you going to take the blanket?”

Sanzu scoffed, reaching down to take his socks off as well. “Do I look like I need a blanket?”

Sayuri hummed in amusement but slid under it anyway, turning onto her side, facing away from him. He followed suit, lying rigid on his back for a moment before rolling onto his side as well, their backs almost touching.

The silence stretched, thick and heavy, interrupted only by the rustling of sheets as they both shifted to get comfortable.

Then, softly—so softly he almost didn’t hear it—Sayuri spoke.

“I never thanked you.”

Sanzu blinked at the bare wall, his body stiffening. “For what?”

“For taking care of me.”

A sharp breath escaped him. He hadn’t expected that. His fingers curled tightly against the futon, his heart giving a strange, unwanted lurch in his chest.

“What the hell are you thanking me for?” His voice came out rougher than he intended. “You’re in this mess because of me.”

The second the words left his mouth, he clenched his jaw. Shit. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

Sayuri rolled over slightly, just enough that he could feel her gaze on the back of his neck.

“What do you mean?” she asked, voice quiet but laced with curiosity.

Sanzu swallowed. He’d already said too much. If he let himself keep talking, he might tell her everything.

He let out a breath as his voice dropped lower. “The less you know, the better.”

Sayuri didn’t respond right away. He could tell she was still looking at him, still waiting, but eventually, she sighed and rolled back onto her side.

Fine. Let her think whatever she wants. It didn’t change the fact that she was better off not knowing the truth.

🌸🌸🌸

Even though she knew the conversation was over, Sayuri’s mind wouldn’t stop turning.

You’re in this mess because of me.

Why would he say that?

She gripped the blanket, pulling it up to her chin. Sanzu was hiding something—he was always hiding something. But this felt… heavier.

The way he said it, the almost imperceptible crack in his voice—it wasn’t just guilt. It was something deeper.

She wanted to ask again. Wanted to push. But she knew him well enough by now to know that when he shut down like this, prying would only make him retreat further.

Sayuri sighed, closing her eyes.

Despite everything—the fear, the exhaustion, the mystery of his words—what she wanted, more than anything, was to roll over and curl into his warmth. To rest her head against his back, to feel safe.

She wanted him to hold her.

The thought alone made heat rise to her cheeks, and she squeezed her eyes shut tighter. Get it together, Sayuri. He’s not the kind of man who does things like that.

Still… the desire for it lingered.

🌸🌸🌸

Sanzu was too aware of her.

The way her breathing slowed, the tiny shifts in the futon when she moved. The warmth of her body, so close yet so far, just a few inches away.

And fuck, the way she had thanked him.

Like he was something good. Like he was something worthy of thanks.

He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to keep his eyes shut. She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t be near me. I should have left well enough alone, let her keep living her normal, safe life.

But she was here.

And she was his.

Not because he’d claimed her. But because fate had tied them together long before either of them existed in this lifetime.

The dreams weren’t a coincidence. The pull in his chest when she looked at him like that—like she trusted him—wasn’t a coincidence, either.

No matter how much he told himself to keep his distance, he knew.

She belonged to him.

Sanzu clenched his fists under the blanket, his jaw tight.

He could feel her shifting behind him, her breath evening out as she finally started to drift off.

And all he could think about was how fucking easy it would be to turn over, wrap his arm around her waist, and pull her close.

To bury his face in her neck, to breathe her in.

To keep her there forever.

But he didn’t move.

He swallowed down the burning ache in his chest, staring into the darkness, and waited for sleep to take him.

As the night stretched on, the only sound was the distant rustle of the trees outside.

Sayuri’s breathing had evened out, slow and steady, her body finally succumbing to exhaustion. Sanzu, however, remained awake, his mind restless, his body tense despite the fatigue weighing down on him.

Minutes passed. Maybe hours.

And then, without thinking, he rolled over.

She was facing him now, curled on her side, her hair spilling over the pillow. She looked different like this—softer, untouched by the stress and fear that followed her during the day. As if sleep allowed her to forget all of it.

His gaze trailed over the delicate slope of her shoulder, the gentle rise and fall of her chest beneath the blanket. So fucking soft. It made something in his chest twist, something dark and possessive, something he didn’t want to name.

His fingers twitched against the sheets. He could reach out, just once. Brush the stray strands of hair from her face. Feel her warmth.

But he didn’t.

He clenched his fist, restraining himself.

She’s safer this way.

That was the lie he kept telling himself.

But deep down, he knew the truth.

The reason he took her out of Tokyo. The reason he chose this place, a house in the middle of a cursed forest where no one would dare to look for her. The reason he couldn’t stop watching her, like if he took his eyes off her for even a second, she might disappear.

He wanted her here. Hidden away. Untouched by the outside world.

He wanted her where only he could reach her.

Sanzu exhaled slowly, forcing himself to look away.

It was better this way.

Even if his own thoughts were starting to betray him.

Even if, when she sighed softly in her sleep and shifted just a little closer, his entire body went rigid with the effort it took not to pull her against him.

She’s safer this way, he told himself again.

But even as the thought formed, another followed, unbidden and dark.

Safer. And mine.

[monochromaticbeans]

Angels have pink hair 🩷

[monochromaticbeans]

Chapter 70: Another Version of Me

And when I'm back in Chicago, I feel it

Another version of me, I was in it

I wave goodbye to the end of beginning

“End of Beginning” ~ Djo

Hikari opened her eyes, the faint golden light of early morning spilling into the room. For a moment, she lay still, her mind slow to catch up. The warmth of her favorite blanket draped over her, the distant sound of birds chirping outside—it all felt so ordinary, so peaceful.

Her heart stuttered in her chest as she blinked up at the familiar ceiling. This isn’t right. She sat up abruptly, her breath catching as her surroundings came into focus.

Her bedroom. Her old bedroom. The faint scent of fresh laundry mixed with the lingering trace of baby powder. Her eyes darted to the window, the morning sun crawling across the floor just as it always had.

Confusion coiled tightly in her chest, and she turned her head slowly, her gaze landing on the small calendar hanging on the wall. Her heart skipped again, the air rushing out of her lungs as if she’d been punched.

August 2008. Keisuke died almost two years ago.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head, her fingers clenching the edge of the blanket. Her pulse raced, her thoughts tumbling over themselves in a frantic spiral. “This can’t be right.”

Then a sound behind her—a tiny, sleepy murmur.

“Ma... Ma...”

She froze. Her breath hitched as she turned, slowly, almost afraid of what she’d see.

There he was.

Hotaru stood in his crib, his tiny hand gripping the wooden railing as he reached out to her, his dark eyes bright with sleepy delight, his messy hair sticking up in every direction. His small mouth opened in a wide grin, and he bounced slightly on his little legs.

“Ma... Ma!”

The dam broke. A sob tore from her throat as she scrambled out of bed, her legs trembling beneath her as she rushed to him.

“My little firefly,” she choked out, tears streaming freely down her face as she scooped him into her arms. He wrapped his tiny hands around her neck, nuzzling into her shoulder as she clung to him tightly. “Oh, my sweet baby. My beautiful boy.”

She kissed the top of his head, breathing him in—baby powder, a hint of milk, and that inexplicable, perfect scent that was uniquely him. Her tears fell onto his soft hair, and she didn’t bother wiping them away.

Hotaru giggled, his small hands patting her cheeks as if to comfort her. “Mama,” he said again, his voice filled with simple, innocent joy.

Hikari sank to the floor, holding him close, her heart aching with a blend of overwhelming relief and profound confusion.

Her mind raced as she cradled him, her fingers tracing the soft curve of his cheek. The last thing she remembered was the weight of Sanzu’s arm around her, his whispered words lulling her to sleep.

And now she was here. August 2008. With her precious baby boy. Her heart felt like it would burst.

The tears kept coming, unstoppable and raw. She didn’t care if this was real or a dream or something in between. All that mattered was the warmth of Hotaru in her arms, his soft giggles filling the room.

If this was a dream, she never wanted to wake up.

“My little firefly…” she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. “You’re here.”

She held him tightly, swaying gently as she anchored herself in the reality of his presence. His sweet baby scent, his tiny fingers curling into her shirt—everything about him was absolutely perfect. And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Hikari’s heart wasn’t breaking. It was soaring.

The ache that had been lodged deep inside her for so long loosened, if only for this moment. She had him again. She didn’t know what would come next, didn’t know if this timeline would hold. But for now, her little firefly was back in her arms, and that was all that mattered.

Hotaru giggled as she kissed his cheeks, babbling happily as if sensing her relief and joy. Hikari’s tears slowed as she cradled him, her mind racing to piece together this new timeline.

The warmth of Hotaru in her arms, the light of hope he represented, filled her soul with strength. There was still so much to fix, so much to confront. But this time, she had her firefly back, and she wouldn’t let go.

Not ever.

***

With Hotaru safely nestled in the baby sling, Hikari adjusted the strap and kissed the top of his head as she stepped out of her apartment. He giggled softly, his small hands reaching up to grasp the pendant around her neck, the wolf pendant that was Keisuke's gift to her. The touch of his tiny fingers on the pendant made her heart clench with both love and determination.

The warm morning air carried the familiar hum of the city, the sounds of life continuing as if nothing had changed. But everything had changed, at least for her. Each step she took with Hotaru strapped to her chest was a reminder of the timeline she was now in. One where Keisuke was still gone, but her son—their son—was here.

Her thoughts raced as she headed out to find Takemichi and Chifuyu. She needed to figure out what had changed and what this timeline meant. Hotaru’s happy babbling was a soothing background to the storm of questions swirling in her mind.

As she walked, people around her smiled warmly at the sight of her with Hotaru, the small child blissfully unaware of the weight his mother carried. His little hand played with the pendant again as he smiled up at her.

“You like that, don’t you?” Hikari murmured to him, her voice soft as she stroked his cheek. “Your dad gave this to me. He’d be so proud of you.”

Hotaru smiled in response, his big eyes gazing up at her, as if he understood every word.

By the time she reached the cafe where they were meeting, she spotted Takemichi pacing nearby, his expression worried but focused. Chifuyu leaned against a wall, looking more composed, though his eyes flicked up as soon as he noticed her approach.

“Hikari,” Takemichi called, his voice tinged with relief. “You made it.”

She nodded, giving them both a small smile. “I brought a little backup this time.” She gestured to Hotaru, who tugged at the pendant again, oblivious to the seriousness of the moment. “We need to talk about what’s next.”

Takemichi and Chifuyu exchanged a glance before looking back at her. The future still held uncertainties, but for now, Hikari felt the small weight of her son against her chest, a reminder of everything she had to fight for.

“We’ll fix this,” she said firmly, her voice stronger now. “For all of us.”

Takemichi nodded, determination in his eyes. “For Baji-kun. And for Hotaru.”

Chifuyu smiled softly at the little boy, giving Hikari an understanding nod. “We’re in this together.”

They were moving forward, one step at a time, with the past and future intertwined. And Hikari was more than ready.

As she sat with Takemichi and Chifuyu, the memories of this timeline started to flood in, like waves slowly creeping up the shore. The warmth of Hotaru’s small body against hers grounded her as the bittersweet memories filled her mind.

Draken was gone.

That loss hit her like a punch to the throat. She remembered the day she heard the news, how she clutched Hotaru close to her, the pain and grief threatening to consume her all over again. Draken had been a constant in every timeline, one of the pillars left in her life after Keisuke's death, and now he was gone, too.

Then there was Senju.

She’d formed Brahman, a powerful gang that aimed to take on the dark path Mikey had descended into with Kanto Manji. Hikari hadn’t joined Senju when Brahman was at its peak, even though Senju offered her a place without hesitation. “Whenever you’re ready,” she had said. But Hikari had been focused on raising Hotaru. She was still grieving Keisuke, and the thought of jumping back into the fray, into the violence and turmoil, seemed too overwhelming at the time.

Now, with Senju’s Brahman defeated by Kanto Manji, the landscape shifted once again. She could still hear Senju’s words echoing in her mind: "You’re welcome in Brahman, Hikari. The door is always open." But the opportunity had passed, and she hadn’t taken it. And with Draken gone, it felt like one more lost chance, one more regret added to the weight of the grief she was already carrying.

But now, another door was opening. They were working on gathering the old Toman members to form a new gang, something to take back what they’d lost and protect what they still had.

“Senju…” Hikari murmured softly, more to herself than anyone else, as she thought about her friend. The memories of those moments with her came rushing in, but now the path ahead felt more urgent. She was a mother now, with a child to protect, but she couldn’t stay on the sidelines any longer.

Takemichi looked at her, his brows furrowed in concern. “You okay, Hikari?”

She nodded, though her thoughts were still scattered. “I’m just thinking about everything that’s happened… and how I didn’t join Senju when she offered.”

Chifuyu glanced at her, understanding flickering in his eyes. “You had a lot going on. And we all know you’d have joined Brahman if things had been different.”

Hikari smiled sadly. “Yeah, I would have.”

Takemichi gave her a firm nod, his voice soft but resolute. “But now you’re here. And we need you. I know it’s hard with Hotaru and everything, but… we’re trying to rebuild.”

She looked down at her son, his tiny fingers still clutching her necklace, and then up at Takemichi and Chifuyu. She knew the stakes were high, that this wasn’t just about her anymore. It was about protecting her son’s future. It was about honoring Keisuke's legacy, Draken’s sacrifice, and Senju’s fight.

“I’m in,” Hikari said, her voice steady. “Keisuke gave his life to protect Toman, there's no way I'm sitting this one out.”

Chifuyu smiled, relief and gratitude flashing in his eyes. “We’re glad to have you, Hikari.”

Takemichi’s expression softened as he glanced at Hotaru. “We’ll make sure the future is safe for him, too.”

As the three of them sat together, the memories of the past and the weight of the future upon them, Hikari felt a renewed sense of purpose. This was her path, and she wasn’t walking it alone. They would face whatever came next together. And this time, she wouldn’t let anyone else slip away.

***

They’d managed to gather a small but formidable group, all united under the banner of "Thousand Winters,” an obvious play on Chifuyu's name. Their goal was clear: take down Kanto Manji and save Mikey from the darkness that had consumed him in every version of the future.

Takemichi was chosen as the leader with Chifuyu as his trusted vice commander—roles that suited them both. When they offered Hikari a captain's position, she declined without hesitation, just as she did when Toman was first formed all those years ago. ‘First Division, always and forever,’ she’d said. She belonged with Keisuke's legacy, with the Division they’d built together.

As they discussed their next moves—plotting how to rally friends, fortify alliances, and prepare for the long road ahead—a familiar melody floated through the air. Conversations hummed in the background, accompanied by the clinking of dishes and the steady rhythm of life. But the rise and fall of those notes pierced through the noise like an arrow aimed straight at Hikari’s heart.

My Heart Will Go On.

Hikari’s chest tightened as the world around her dissolved. The present slipped away, replaced by a memory so vivid it stole her breath. She was no longer here in the cafe, she was back at the Valentine dance, standing on a wobbly chair with her arms stretched wide, belting out those very lyrics with reckless, carefree abandon.

She could see Keisuke’s face as if he were standing right in front of her, his dark eyes crinkled with laughter as he teased her for liking “mushy stuff.” She felt the lightness of that moment, the joy of their friendship before it deepened into something she could never put into words. For a fleeting second, she was that girl again—untouched by the heartbreak that would come later, blissfully unaware of how precious those simple days were.

But the memory was fleeting, and its sweetness turned into sorrow in the blink of an eye. The song no longer felt lighthearted. It was a ghost, haunting her with echoes of a life she could never return to.

Tears welled in her eyes, blurring the edges of the room as she instinctively clutched Hotaru tighter to her chest. The music wrapped around her like a bittersweet embrace, each note peeling back the layers of grief. Silent tears spilled down her cheeks, and her heart ached in a way that only Keisuke’s absence could evoke.

Takemichi noticed her stillness first, his brows knitting with concern. Gently, he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Hikari... are you okay?”

Concern rippled through the group—they didn’t need an explanation to understand. This wasn’t just any song. It was a connection to something deeper, something tied to the very core of who Hikari was and who she’d lost.

Hikari blinked rapidly, trying to steady her breath, but the tears kept coming. “I’m okay,” she whispered, though her voice trembled under the weight of the lie. “I’m okay.”

They waited, patient and silent, giving her the space to find her words.

She inhaled a shaky breath, her arms still wrapped around Hotaru like he was the only thing anchoring her to the world. “There was a Valentine dance... back in fifth grade,” she began, her voice soft, her gaze distant. “Keisuke and I went together—just as friends back then. This song played, and I...” She let out a soft, watery laugh, her lips curving faintly despite the tears. “I got up on a chair and sang it at the top of my lungs. He teased me but he was laughing the whole time. We were happy. It was so... simple back then. So innocent. We didn’t know...” Her voice cracked, and she shook her head, unable to finish.

Senju offered a small, understanding smile, her voice gentle. “Those memories... they’re so beautiful, but they hurt, too, don’t they?”

Hikari nodded, swiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Yeah,” she murmured, her voice raw. “They do. I miss him. I miss him so goddamn much.”

Chifuyu, who carried his own heavy share of memories with Baji, reached out and clasped Hikari’s hand in his. His voice was steady, his conviction unwavering. “We’ll keep fighting for him, Hikari. For what he stood for. He’s still with us—in everything we do.”

Takemichi nodded firmly, his expression somber but resolute. “Baji-kun’s memory lives on in Toman. In us. We’ll honor him the way he’d want—by saving Mikey and protecting what’s left of Toman.”

Hikari’s lips trembled as she smiled through her tears, their words pulling her back from the edge of her grief. Her gaze dropped to Hotaru, his small sleepy face nestled against her shoulder, his presence a living reminder of all that Keisuke had left behind.

“I know,” she whispered, her voice steadier now. “I know we will.”

The song’s ending faded into the background, but its echoes lingered in her heart. The pain of the past hadn’t vanished, but surrounded by her son and the friends who refused to give up, the ache felt just a little lighter.

Even in the face of so much loss, she wasn’t alone. Keisuke’s memory was a thread woven through all of them, tying them together in love and in purpose. And for the first time in what felt like ages, Hikari let herself believe that they would find a way to carry on.

***

The National Fashion Design Newcomer contest was a grand spectacle. Bright lights, elegant displays, and the finest upcoming talents in the fashion industry filled the venue. Hikari, Takemichi, Chifuyu, Hakkai, Inupi, and Senju made their way inside, blending into the crowd. They’d all come for one reason: to support Mitsuya.

Mitsuya had always been a constant in their lives, his creativity a source of inspiration, his quiet strength a grounding force. This contest was special—Draken had asked him to enter, a promise Mitsuya was determined to keep even after Draken’s death.

The Thousand Winters group settled into their seats, exchanging brief smiles of encouragement. It was bittersweet, knowing Draken wasn’t here to witness this. Hikari, with little Hotaru in her lap, felt the weight of Draken’s absence, knowing how close he’d been to both Mitsuya and herself. She couldn’t help but think about how proud he would have been, seeing Mitsuya’s talent displayed on such a grand stage.

As the show progressed, each design that walked down the runway was a stunning representation of skill and vision. But it was the final collection that left everyone speechless—designs intricately based on the matching dragon tattoos that both Mitsuya and Draken wore. The tattoo design was one that Mitsuya created when they were just kids, a trade he made to Draken in exchange for inadvertently scarfing down his dinner. Yet, it became a symbol of their unbreakable bond, their shared history.

The atmosphere grew tense as the winners were announced. It was no surprise when Mitsuya's name was called for the grand prize. The audience erupted into applause, but his friends remained focused, knowing there was more to this than just winning a contest.

Mitsuya emerged from backstage, not in a designer suit or formal attire like the other winners, but in his old Toman uniform. The side of his head was shaved, proudly displaying the dragon tattoo, the one that had been hidden for so long.

Taking the microphone, Mitsuya’s voice rang out steady and clear. “I didn’t enter this contest for fame or recognition. I didn’t do it for the accolades. I did it to honor someone who meant the world to me.” His eyes flickered to his friends in the audience, and then upward, as though speaking directly to Draken. “This is for you. We both wore the same dragon. You said it was yours. But the truth is, it was always ours.”

Hikari’s eyes filled with tears as she gently bounced Hotaru on her lap. The words hit hard for all of them. Draken’s presence was still so strong, and Mitsuya’s tribute was a beautiful and powerful reminder of the bonds they shared.

With a deep breath, Mitsuya shook his head and said, “I respectfully decline this award. I’m grateful, but I don’t need a trophy to know I did something meaningful. This was never about winning—it was about honoring my friend, my brother.” The crowd, stunned by his humility and integrity, slowly erupted into applause, while his friends remained silent, absorbing the significance of his words.

After the contest, the group gathered outside the venue. The crisp night air seemed to carry the weight of what they had all just witnessed. Mitsuya joined them, still wearing his Toman uniform.

Takemichi spoke first, breaking the silence. “We have to change the name back to Toman, don’t we?”

Everyone nodded in agreement. The name "Thousand Winters" was a placeholder, a step on their journey to restoring what had once been Toman. But tonight, with Mitsuya’s tribute to Draken, it drove home the point that Toman was more than just a gang—it was a family. A family that Draken, Baji, and so many others helped build.

Hikari, still holding Hotaru close, whispered, “We’ll carry it forward. For them.”

Chifuyu’s voice was steady, resolute. “We’ll carry Toman’s legacy, no matter how hard it gets. It’s time.”

And so, with heavy hearts but renewed purpose, the second generation of Toman was officially born. They would honor their fallen brothers, save Mikey, and fight to restore what was lost—together.

***

The first official meeting of the second generation Toman had a different energy than any before. There was a deep sense of purpose in the air, tempered by the weight of the past, but also driven by the need to protect the future. Takemichi stood at the top of the steps at Musashi Shrine, preparing to announce the declaration of war against Kanto Manji but his mind lingered for a moment on the faces around him. The return of Toman was a symbol of hope, but it also meant they would soon face one of their greatest challenges yet.

Hikari was standing near the front, Hotaru bundled up against her chest in his baby sling. There was no question that Keisuke's son should be there. He was part of Toman's legacy, a living reminder of the fire that his father carried in his heart for the gang. It brought Hikari a sense of pride and sadness at the same time. She couldn’t help but wonder what Keisuke would think, seeing his son here, in the middle of everything they fought for. She imagined him grinning proudly while also teasing her. “The hell are you bringing a baby to a gang meeting for?”

At the mention of Taiju joining them as the Sixth Division Captain, there was a mixture of surprise and quiet understanding. Mitsuya and Hakkai had convinced Taiju to join, despite the rough history between them. Taiju’s presence loomed large, both physically and emotionally, his reputation as the former leader of Black Dragon not forgotten.

As Taiju approached, Hikari saw him glance at her and then at the small bundle against her chest. There was no mistaking who the child was. Taiju had imposing size, strength, and intimidation, but when he stood before Hikari, there was a hint of respect for her and everything she had endured.

"Still Toman’s princess, huh?" Taiju remarked, his deep voice carrying a mixture of nostalgia and amusement. There was no malice in his tone, but rather a quiet acknowledgment of her place in the gang’s history.

Hikari let out a small, reluctant chuckle. “You, too? I’ve always hated that damn name.”

Taiju’s lips quirked in a half-smile. “But it's not just any princess standing here. You’re Baji’s girl and his son’s mother. We still remember what you meant to Toman. And now, you have that little one. Guess he’s the new mascot.”

Hikari blinked, glancing down at Hotaru, who was staring up at Taiju with wide, curious eyes. A warmth spread through her at the thought. A mascot for Toman, her little firefly. It was a bittersweet thought, but one that gave her strength. Toman wasn’t just the past; it was the future, too.

"You know," Hikari replied softly, her voice steady but filled with the weight of all they had lost, "we’ve been through hell and back, but this time, we’re doing it for all of them. For Keisuke. For Draken. For everyone we’ve lost. And we’re going to make sure Hotaru grows up knowing exactly what Toman stands for."

Taiju nodded, his expression hardening as he looked around at the gathering members of the second generation. "We’ll fight for them all. And we’ll win. No more losses."

Takemichi called the meeting to order, his voice strong and clear. "The battle is coming soon, and we have to be ready. This is our chance to take back everything we’ve lost and make sure no one else falls to the darkness."

As the announcement rang out, everyone’s eyes sharpened with determination. They knew what lay ahead, but now, they were fighting for something bigger—each other, the memory of those they lost, and the future they were determined to protect.

And for Hikari, it was for Keisuke and Hotaru, the legacy she would carry forward, no matter what.

***

Hikari, with Hotaru in his sling, stood alongside Chifuyu and Takemichi as they visited the graves of Keisuke and Draken. The air was cool, the sky overcast, and the silence around them filled with the presence of those they’d come to honor.

She gently stroked Hotaru’s hair as she spoke softly, her voice carrying the love she always had for Keisuke. “We’ve brought Toman back. Even Taiju joined us, believe it or not. It’s different this time, but we’re doing it for you and for Draken. We’ll save Mikey. I swear it.”

She looked down at Hotaru, smiling as she remembered Taiju’s comment. “And Taiju called Hotaru the mascot for Toman, can you believe that? Your little boy, leading the charge.”

Chifuyu, who hadn’t heard Taiju’s remark, chuckled. “He’s not wrong, you know. He’s part of Toman’s legacy.” His eyes softened as he gazed at Hotaru. “Baji-san would be so damn proud.”

Hikari smiled, feeling a bittersweet warmth in her chest. “Ryoko saved some of Keisuke’s baby stuff,” she said softly. “She gave me a little onesie with cat ears. She used to call him her ‘little cat.’” She laughed lightly, picturing the times Hotaru wore it. “I think I’ll dress him in it for the next meeting. Our little Toman mascot.”

Chifuyu chuckled at the image, eyes lighting up. “That’s perfect. I can just imagine it now, Hotaru in a little cat hoodie, looking like a tiny version of Baji-san.”

The fond memories began to swirl as Hikari’s laughter turned to one of nostalgia. “It kind of reminds me of that time you and Keisuke had to dress up as schoolgirls for that fundraiser,” she teased, glancing at Chifuyu. “Remember?”

His face flushed slightly at the memory. “Yeah… That was not one of my proudest moments,” he muttered, scratching the back of his head. “But Baji-san? Man, he didn’t even care. He wore that uniform like it was nothing. Didn’t bat an eye.”

Hikari grinned at the memory. “I thought for sure he’d hate it, but nope. He strutted around like he was in his Toman uniform, totally unbothered.”

Chifuyu laughed, shaking his head. “That was Baji-san for you. Always confident, no matter what.”

Takemichi smiled quietly, letting their laughter fill the air for a moment. It was a reminder that even though Baji and Draken were gone, their memories lived on, stitched into the fabric of Toman and the people who carried it forward.

Hikari knelt down, gently resting a hand on Baji’s gravestone. “I wish you could see him, Keisuke. Our little Hotaru is a firefly, shining even through the darkest nights. You’re still with us, through him. And I’m going to do everything I can to keep Toman alive for you—for both of you.”

The wind rustled gently through the trees, and for a moment, it felt like Baji and Draken were there with them, listening. It was a solemn promise, a bond that couldn’t be broken, no matter how many years or battles passed.

[monochromaticbeans]

Jujutsu Manji Kai

Get Into the Groove

Kaminari rolled up into class, her motorcycle boots stomping across the room. She'd traded out the ‘borrowed’ uniform pants for her jeans, pairing them with her school uniform top. She flopped down into her seat, about as ready for this shit as she'll ever be.

She hazarded a side glance at Geto. Hopefully, he'd keep his word and not tell anyone about her motorcycle, and her sneaking out to the Toman meeting. As long as held up his end of the deal, she would as well.

And that purple worm critter better not fuck up her precious motorcycle.

“Kurashiki.” Her name accompanied an exasperated sigh. One of a long-suffering man who'd seen more than his share of smartasses and problem students. “At least you're wearing pants that fit today.”

Kaminari smirked at Yaga. “Guess it's pretty obvious I'm not ever wearing that damn skirt. Or those lame-ass shoes, either.”

Some days, it just wasn't worth the effort, and one must pick their battles wisely. Yaga reminded himself of it every morning since Gojo's first day here. Now, there's Kurashiki and her sneaking around with that motorcycle at night, then showing up for class every day with a brand new headache for him.

“We'll get you fitted for some uniform pants,” he said. There were, after all, worse things arguing over than apparel.

Kaminari couldn't contain the grin of victory shining on her face. “Don't worry about it. I know a guy.”

Her uniform allowance was only going to one person: Mitsuya. She trusted him, she respected him, and she admired his talent. Not to mention, he already had her measurements from her Toman uniform, so no need for some weirdo to be touching her.

***

“Alright, worm. Cough it up.”

Kaminari, having been given the green light by Yaga to go see her “guy” about the uniform pants, didn't have to worry about her inability to hide her cursed energy this evening. And, no doubt about it, she was taking her bike.

“You could try being a little kinder to it,” Geto said. “It is doing you a favor, after all.”

“No, you're doing the favor.” She zipped her leather jacket and adjusted the sleeves. “It's just a cursed critter.”

Geto shook his head. She had no manners, using atai instead of atashi. She spoke like a guy, walked and sat like a guy, and was rude most of the time. Her tough, rough-around-the-edges act was so over the top, it had to be hiding something.

“Okay, since I'm the one you owe the favor to, then you can have your bike under one condition,” he said.

Kaminari rolled her eyes. Of course, there'd be a condition. “Fine. What is it?”

With a slightly smug half-smirk, he answered. “You're going to take me with you.”

“What?” she asked flatly, raising an eyebrow.

“I said, I'm going with you,” he repeated. Curious to see if she acts any differently around her gang friends, this seemed like a good way to find out.

“Too bad. I've only got one helmet.” She fished her keys out of her pocket, thinking that'd be the end of the conversation. “Better luck next time.”

“Not a problem.” He was already prepared for this situation, knowing she'd scoff at the idea of him riding along. The worm opened its mouth and produced a black helmet.

“Are you for real?” There went her excuse, right out the proverbial window. If it was the only way she'd get her bike, she didn't really have much choice.

“Ugh, fine,” she grumbled. “Just don't fall off or anything.”

Once the worm spat her bike out, she gave it a very thorough once-over. Not seeing even one tiny scratch or scrape, she strapped her helmet on and threw her leg over the seat. Geto settled in behind her and she turned the key in the ignition.

Geto held onto Kaminari, his hands at a gentlemanly distance above her waist, as they sped off on the Yamaha. Winding through the streets of Tokyo, the lights streaked past in a neon blur.

“It really is a nice bike,” he said. Now that he'd seen it properly in the light, he could appreciate the design on the fuel tank. The deep, midnight blue perfectly matched the color of her hair, and the lightning airbrushed along the side was quite detailed.

“Thanks.” His genuine compliment brought a proud smile to her face. It was her freedom, a symbol of rebellion, and an extension of herself. To her, it was the best bike in all of Tokyo.

“Is Kaminari a nickname?” he asked. “I'm just wondering, is all.”

She chuckled, as he wasn't the first person to ask that same question. “Nope, it's my real name. Kurashiki Kaminari.”

“An interesting choice your parents made,” he said.

“Well,” she started, leaning as they rounded a corner, “it's kind of a cool story. From what they told me.”

Geto listened, as she seemed to be opening up a little bit. Or, at least, the rudeness was less pronounced.

“Lightning struck the hospital when I was born. Literally, it hit as soon as I popped out,” she laughed. “Talk about a dramatic entrance, huh?”

He nodded, amused. “Suits you, though.”

She laughed again, loudly over the purr of the engine. “You think?”

They approached a manga café and pulled over, cutting the engine and lowering the kickstand.

The café glowed warmly against the streetlights, a sharp contrast to the chill in the evening Tokyo air. Kaminari yanked her helmet off, shaking out her dark blue hair. She placed the helmet on the seat of her bike, giving it an affectionate pat.

“You coming, or what?” she asked over her shoulder, already heading for the entrance.

Geto followed, taking in the place with casual curiosity. It wasn’t exactly where he’d imagined someone like Kaminari hanging out—someone who seemed like they’d be more at home kicking in teeth than flipping through manga. Then again, she was proving to be full of contradictions.

The interior was cozy, filled with the soft sound of pages turning and the low droning of an old heater in the corner. Mitsuya was already there, seated at a low table near the back, flipping through a book with a steaming cup in his hand.

“Mitsuya!” Kaminari called, her tone completely different from the snarky bite Geto was used to. It was warm and familiar, even a little excited.

Mitsuya looked up, smiling as she approached. He was dressed casually—neat but relaxed, in a way that made even his most basic clothes look stylish. He set his book down, giving her a nod.

“Kaminari. You’re late.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, sliding into the seat across from him. “Had to jump through a few hoops to get here. You know how it is.”

Mitsuya’s eyes flicked to Geto, his expression calm but assessing. “And who’s this?”

“My babysitter, apparently,” Kaminari said with a wave of her hand. “Don’t worry, he’s harmless.”

Geto raised an eyebrow at that but didn’t correct her. He slid into the seat beside Kaminari, taking a moment to study the dynamic between her and Mitsuya.

It was subtle, but it was there—how Kaminari’s usual sharp edges softened just a bit when she spoke to him, how she leaned forward like she actually cared about the conversation. Respect. Trust. Things she didn’t bother to show anyone else, least of all her classmates.

“So,” Mitsuya said, pulling out a notebook and setting it on the table. “What’d you need this time?”

“Uniform pants,” Kaminari said, kicking one leg out and gesturing to her jeans. “Something that looks better than this crap but doesn’t look like I’m about to take tea with the emperor. You know the drill.”

Mitsuya opened the notebook, flipping through sketches with practiced ease. “You’re sticking with the deep blue base, I assume?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Nothing too flashy. Just nice and simple.”

Geto watched as Mitsuya nodded, jotting down notes in the margins. It was clear that this wasn’t just a transaction—they had a rhythm, an understanding. Kaminari didn’t even hesitate when Mitsuya reached for a measuring tape, letting him take quick adjustments without her usual scowls or complaints.

“This is going to cost you,” Mitsuya said lightly, stepping back and making a note.

“Put it on my tab,” Kaminari replied, grinning.

“I’m gonna start charging interest,” he joked, shaking his head.

“Do what you gotta do,” she said with a shrug. “You know I’m good for it.”

As they talked, Geto leaned back in his chair, arms crossed loosely over his chest. He wasn’t just watching—he was studying. Every interaction chipped away at the tough, defiant persona Kaminari wore like armor.

She wasn’t rude. She wasn’t deflecting or dodging questions. She wasn’t even trying to act like she was in charge. She just… was. Comfortable. Honest. Herself.

When Mitsuya complimented her sense of style, she didn’t fire back with sarcasm. She just grinned and said, “Thanks, but you’re the one with the real talent.”

And when Mitsuya teased her about her habit of getting into trouble, she didn’t snap—she just laughed, an easy, unguarded sound that was so unlike the sharp-edged person he thought he knew.

“You and Mitsuya seem close,” Geto said casually, cutting into the conversation.

Kaminari glanced at him. “Yeah, well, he’s good people.”

“High praise,” Geto said, smirking.

“Yeah, well,” Kaminari muttered, a little more awkwardly this time. “He’s the best there is. Nobody else gets it right. Why would I waste my time with anyone else?”

Geto nodded, filing the response away. The way she spoke about Mitsuya wasn’t just respect—it was admiration, loyalty. The kind of loyalty she claimed to have for Toman but never actually explained.

Mitsuya, for his part, didn’t seem fazed by any of it. He finished his notes, tucked them away, and leaned back with a satisfied nod. “You’ll have them by the end of the week.”

“Thanks, Mitsuya,” she said, her tone softening again.

He waved her off. “Just try not to rip them up in another brawl, alright?”

“No promises,” Kaminari said, standing up.

***

The ride back was quieter. Kaminari was a little more relaxed now, her earlier tension replaced by a calm satisfaction.

“You’re different around him,” Geto said as they idled at a stoplight.

Kaminari glanced over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just an observation,” he said. “You don’t talk to him like you talk to everyone else. You actually… respect him.”

“Yeah, well,” she muttered, looking forward again. “Mitsuya’s earned it.”

Geto filed that away too, a small, satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. “Interesting.”

“You’re weird,” she shot back.

“And you’re complicated,” he replied smoothly.

“Whatever,” she muttered, revving the engine.

As the light turned green and they sped off into the Tokyo night, Geto couldn’t help but wonder just how many layers the girl in front of him was hiding—and how many more he’d get to see.

[monochromaticbeans]

Chapter 69: Sweet Surrender

I've crossed the last line

From where I can't return

Where every step I took in faith betrayed me.

“Sweet Surrender” ~ Sarah McLaughlin

The soft strumming of Hikari’s guitar filled the dim apartment, delicate and slow. She sat by the window, bathed in the cold glow of the city lights, her fingers moving over the strings with a familiarity that was second nature. Her voice, soft and haunting, carried the weariness of someone who had long since lost everything.

"Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup,

They slither while they pass, they slip away across the universe..."

The lyrics rolled off her tongue like a prayer, a quiet resignation to a world she no longer had control over. She sang this song countless times before, but tonight, she knew it was final.

Outside the door, Sanzu stood motionless, his hand hovering over the handle as her voice reached him.

"Nothing's going to change my world...

Nothing's going to change my world..."

He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the sound of her voice wash over him. There was a heaviness in it, a haunting sadness that pressed down on his chest. It was filled with the kind of grief that lingered, that stuck to you like a shadow. With each word she sang, it became harder to take the next step. But he had his orders.

He sighed quietly, dropping his cigarette to the ground and crushing it underfoot. The metallic click of the door handle echoed in the silence as he pushed it open.

Hikari kept playing. Her fingers continued to move across the strings, her voice steady, as if she had been expecting him to arrive at this exact moment.

"Nothing's going to change my world...

Nothing's going to change my world..."

Sanzu stood there, the door clicking shut behind him, his eyes fixed on her. He simply watched her—her shoulders hunched ever so slightly, her eyes closed as she lost herself in the music. The light from the street lamps outside cast a faint, silvery glow over her, making her look ghostly and ethereal, like she was already halfway gone.

“Still singing…” Sanzu finally said, his voice low, breaking the fragile silence that hung between them.

Hikari’s fingers stilled on the guitar strings, her voice trailing off into the quiet. She opened her eyes slowly, but didn’t turn to face him. She just stared out the window, her hands resting gently on the body of the guitar.

“It's the only thing that still makes sense,” she murmured, her voice soft and distant.

Sanzu took a step closer, feeling the weight of what lay between them pressing down. She laced the black pick, one that Keisuke gave her all those years ago, through the strings and sat the guitar on its stand, her fingers lingering before she stood to face him. Her expression was calm, almost peaceful, though her eyes held the weariness of someone carrying the weight of too many worlds.

“Are you really okay with this?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Hikari’s lips quirked up in a small, sad smile. “Nothing’s going to change my world, is it?” she whispered. “I don’t have anything left here, Sanzu. It's just time.”

Her words hit hard, a dull ache spreading in his chest. This was Hikari, and she was surrendering. Giving up.

Unable to help himself, he reached up, brushing a strand of hair from her face. Then, in an impulse he didn’t fully understand, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead—a gesture that felt foreign but right, all the same.

Hikari closed her eyes at the touch of his lips, feeling the unexpected tenderness in the act. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but it hadn’t been this—this quiet, gentle moment between them. Sanzu, the wildcard, the man who had been so detached, so cold, was now standing in front of her, his touch soft and almost reverent.

Her heart tightened in her chest, but she didn’t pull away. The world had taken too much from her, and what little she had left to give, she would give freely.

When he pulled back, their eyes met, and for the first time, she saw something in him: real conflict, raw and unguarded, buried beneath all the chaos that usually consumed him.

Without thinking, he leaned in again, his lips finding hers.

The kiss was tentative and slow, as if he wasn’t sure he should be doing this. But Hikari didn’t pull away. Her fingers curled around the front of his coat, drawing him closer. This wasn’t like the times before, those hollow, desperate attempts to fill the void. This was something different—an unspoken understanding that bridged their fractured realities.

Sanzu’s hand cradled her face, his thumb brushing over her cheek. He could feel her warmth, the slight hitch in her breath. For the first time in years, he felt something genuine.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against hers as they stood together in the quiet. His heart raced, the sensation foreign to him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m sorry it came to this.”

Hikari let out a shaky breath, her fingers still gripping his coat like she was holding onto the last thread of life. Her eyes spoke for her: It’s okay.

Sanzu stepped back, his gaze lingering on hers as he cupped her shoulders, the weight of what was about to happen settling between them. For this one brief moment, it was only the two of them—no past, no future. Only the now.

He pulled her into another kiss as he lifted her up with ease. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he carried her to the bed, his movements gentle and unrushed. The mattress dipped under their weight as he laid her down, covering her body with his. His lips trailed down her neck, the heat of his breath sending shivers through her body.

Sanzu's hands moved slowly, tracing her curves as if memorizing every inch of her. His touch was light at first, fingers gliding along her skin, eliciting a soft gasp from her. His lips followed, pressing tender kisses along her collarbone, her shoulder, her chest, each one a silent apology for what was to come.

Hikari's hands slid through his hair, her touch gentle in this dance of shared vulnerability. His lips found hers again, the kiss deepening, their breaths mingling as their bodies aligned. The world beyond the room faded, replaced by the heat between them and the aching intimacy they shared.

Each touch, each caress, spoke of a yearning neither of them could name—a desire to hold on to something as fleeting as the cherry blossoms in the spring. His hands found hers, intertwining their fingers as he thrusted, her hips rising to meet his. Soft moans and whispers filled the space between them, punctuated by the steady rhythm of their bodies moving in harmony.

For Hikari, it was a farewell wrapped in tenderness, a bittersweet comfort in the face of inevitability. For Sanzu, it was a plea to the universe and to himself that this moment could stretch on forever, that the cruel demands of reality could be held at bay for just a little longer.

When the crescendo came, it was quiet, almost sacred. A shared release of tension, of fear, of pain. Sanzu held her close, pressing his forehead to hers, his breaths ragged but steadying. She reached up to cup his cheek, her thumb brushing over the scar there, her gaze meeting his with a softness that made his chest ache.

Afterward, he lay beside her, his arm wrapped protectively around her waist, pulling her close as if to shield her from the world. Hikari rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Their breaths synchronized, the silence stretching out between them like a fragile thread.

"Go to sleep, Hikari" he whispered, his voice soft in the dark. "Just... go to sleep.”

Hikari didn't answer, but her hand rested on his chest, her fingers splaying out over his heart as if she could anchor herself there. Sanzu closed his eyes, his hand covering hers. For this moment, she was safe. For this moment, she was his.

But the weight of what was to come loomed over them, heavy and inescapable.

She shifted, her eyes fluttering closed as she let herself drift, exhaustion finally overtaking her. She didn’t fight it as she sank into his embrace one last time.

Sanzu watched her as she slept, his mind swirling with thoughts he couldn’t grasp. He wasn’t supposed to feel this way. Not for her. Not for anyone. But as he watched her, a calmness settled over him, mixed with a terror he couldn’t name.

Once Hikari’s breathing evened, he carefully slipped his arm from around her and sat up. On the nightstand, the gun lay waiting, the cold metal glinting in the darkness. His chest tightened as he reached for it, his fingers wrapping around the handle.

He sat there, the weight of the gun heavy in his hand, his heart pounding as he looked back at her. He didn’t want to do this. Not like this.

But he had no choice.

He raised the gun, his finger hovering over the trigger. His eyes lingered on her peaceful face, memorizing every detail. She looked so calm, so free. Maybe this really was the right thing—a final release from a world that had taken everything from her.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice a ghost in the silence. “Goodnight, Hikari.”

His finger tightened on the trigger.

[monochromaticbeans]

Chapter 68: Jump Back

Jump back, gotta get out of here

Been too, too long this time

“Fall Down” ~ Toad the Wet Sprocket

The dingy, dimly lit alley was silent, save for the distant sound of traffic and the occasional drip of water from a broken pipe. Takemichi sat slumped against a cold concrete wall, his head buried in his hands. The weight of this timeline pressed down on him like a vice, squeezing the last drops of hope from his chest.

How many times had he failed? How many leaps had he made, only to watch the people he cared about die over and over again? Hina, Baji, Draken, Emma… It was like fate had already written their stories in stone, and no matter how many times he tried to change it, the ending was always the same.

Takemichi’s chest felt tight, the familiar ache of grief and helplessness gnawing at him. His eyes burned with unshed tears as he thought of Hina—the way she smiled, the way she believed in him, even when he didn’t believe in himself. And each time, no matter what he did, she was ripped away from him. Over and over again.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he muttered to himself, his voice hoarse. His hands shook as he clutched at his hair, pulling at the roots in frustration. “I keep failing. No matter what I do, I keep losing everyone.”

The memories of the last few time leaps flashed through his mind—Hina in the burning car. Draken’s lifeless body on the ground, Mikey’s dead eyes as he fell into darkness, Baji’s sacrifice for Toman. And now, in this twisted Bonten timeline, Mikey had become a monster, Hina was still gone, and Hikari...

He thought of Hikari and Chifuyu. The last time he saw them, they were still fighting—still clinging to Toman’s ideals. Hikari, perched on Baji’s bike, her face determined and full of that same fire she’d had when they were teenagers. Even in the bleakness of this timeline, she hadn't given up. She hadn’t lost herself completely.

But here he was. Sitting in a dark alley. Broken. Ready to give up. Throwing in the towel.

A bitter laugh escaped him as he leaned his head back against the wall, his breath coming out in shaky gasps. “What the hell am I doing?” he muttered under his breath. “Hikari’s still out there, fighting for Baji-kun, for Toman… and I’m sitting here like a damn coward.”

The memory of her face, full of stubborn hope, flickered in his mind. He could still hear her voice, full of fire as she spoke of saving Baji, of protecting what Toman stood for. Even after everything she’d lost, she was still trying. Still pushing forward. Still fighting.

Takemichi’s fists clenched, his nails biting into his palms. “She hasn’t given up. She’s still trying.”

He closed his eyes, the image of Hikari burning bright in his mind’s eye. She had lost as much as he had—if not more. But there was something about her that made him feel like there was still hope, that maybe there was still a way out of this nightmare. Even if it felt impossible.

His heart pounded in his chest, and for the first time in what felt like forever, a spark of determination flickered to life inside him. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make him sit up a little straighter, to force himself to breathe deeper.

“I have to keep going,” he murmured, his eyes hardening with resolve. “For Hina. For everyone.”

Takemichi pushed himself to his feet, his legs shaky but steadying as he stood. His heart pounded in his chest, and he clenched his fists, feeling the weight of all the time leaps, all the failures, all the pain—he felt it all, and it nearly crushed him.

But he couldn’t let it. Not yet.

“I can’t fail again,” he muttered, his voice trembling but full of resolve. “I have to keep going. No more running.”

Takemichi inhaled deeply, forcing air into his lungs as he steeled himself for what he knew he had to do. He couldn’t stop. Not now. Not when there was still a chance, no matter how small, that he could save them all.

With a newfound determination, Takemichi turned and started walking. He needed to find Naoto. He needed to leap again. Because no matter how many times he failed, no matter how many times he lost, he wasn’t ready to give up.

Not yet.

[monochromaticbeans]

🥰

Love all the little background interactions at the wedding, them all just happily chatting and messing around with each other ♡ ngl wish we got a few more too

[monochromaticbeans]

Chapter 67: If I Had a Heart

If I had a heart, I could love you

If I had a voice, I would sing

After the night, when I wake up

I'll see what tomorrow brings

“If I Had a Heart” ~ Fever Ray

The dim light from Mikey’s office barely pierced the thick air of Bonten’s headquarters. The world outside was quiet, almost peaceful, but inside the room, a storm brewed—one that threatened to tear apart whatever was left of Sanzu’s armor.

Sanzu stood in front of Mikey, his usual smirk gone. The tension was palpable, and Mikey’s gaze, cold and distant, bore into him from across the desk.

“It’s time,” Mikey said quietly, his voice devoid of emotion. He didn’t look up from the papers scattered in front of him, but the weight of his words filled the space between them.

Sanzu’s heart lurched, though he kept his expression unreadable. He’d seen this coming, the way Mikey’s patience frayed with Hikari’s presence. But hearing it spoken, calmly and finally…

It’s time.

He forced himself to draw a steady breath. This was just another order. A loose end to tie up. But this wasn’t any loose end. This was Hikari.

Sanzu’s voice was almost a whisper. “What do you mean?”

Mikey finally looked up, his dark eyes meeting Sanzu’s with a detached calmness. “She’s a problem,” he said bluntly, his tone as casual as if he were commenting on the weather. “She’s getting too close to things that don’t concern her.”

Sanzu knew better than to argue. This wasn’t a request for input. It was an order. Yet something twisted painfully inside him. Hikari wasn’t just clinging to the past—she is his past. And that connection mattered more than he’d ever admit.

Mikey’s eyes sharpened, as though he could see straight through the carefully placed walls in Sanzu’s mind. “You know what needs to be done.”

There was no anger in his voice, just cold certainty. Hikari had become a threat in Mikey’s eyes. And threats didn’t stand a chance in Bonten.

Sanzu’s fingers twitched at his side, but he managed to keep his voice steady. “Yeah, take care of it.”

Mikey’s gaze didn’t waver, his tone hardening. “Take care of it,” he repeated, final and unyielding.

A hollow ache throbbed in Sanzu’s chest. His mind screamed at him to say something, to push back, to suggest an alternative. Send her out of Japan, away from Bonten—ship her off to the States. Didn't she have family there anyway?

But no words came. He gave a single, stiff nod.

“Yes, Mikey.”

The conversation was over. Mikey dismissed him with a slight turn back to his papers, the same quiet indifference that made it clear there was nothing left to discuss.

Sanzu turned and walked out, the door clicking shut behind him. As he made his way down the hallway, his hands clenched into fists, his mind whirring with thoughts he couldn’t suppress.

Just another job. Just another order.

But no matter how many times he repeated it, he couldn’t shake the hollow feeling gnawing at him. The thought of carrying this out—of ending Hikari’s life—sent flashes of memory rushing through him: her laughter, the nights they’d spent together when the world didn’t matter. She was the only one who could pull him out of the abyss, even if just for a moment.

Hikari, who had survived beside him, the one who shared his brokenness and understood him when no one else did. And now he was supposed to kill her.

This is what Mikey wants.

And yet, as he walked, each step seemed to weigh more than the last. There was a small, treacherous part of him that didn’t want to. That couldn’t let her go.

Sanzu stopped, leaning against the wall as Mikey’s words echoed in his head. He had followed every command, every directive without hesitation, gleefully at times. But this… this was different.

His hands shook. He knew he couldn’t refuse. Disobedience wasn’t an option. But how could he look her in the eye and pull the trigger?

Maybe she doesn’t have to know. The thought slithered through his mind like a whisper, twisting his stomach. He could make it quick. She wouldn’t have to know. She would just… go. Peacefully. It would be over before she knew it. He could make sure she never had to cry again.

But that felt wrong. Hikari deserved better.

With a deep, steadying breath, he pushed off the wall and continued down the darkened corridor, mind set on one thing: he needed to see her. He needed to talk to her. And he needed to decide what the hell he was going to do before it was too late.

***

The city outside was muted, distant and indifferent. Hikari’s apartment, by contrast, was thick with silence. The cigarette between her fingers burned slowly, smoke curling lazily above her as her mind lingered on everything she’d lost.

When the knock came at the door, she didn’t move at first. She already knew who it was.

Sanzu.

He’d been hovering at the edges, always watching with that unreadable expression. But tonight, something felt different. She stubbed out the cigarette, setting the ashtray aside before she rose from the couch and crossed the room, her steps slow and heavy. She opened the door.

“What did Mikey say?” Hikari asked quietly, her voice calm, though her heart raced.

Sanzu let out a long breath, his eyes dropping. “He wants you gone,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

Hikari closed her eyes, letting the words sink in. She’d known it would come to this eventually, but hearing it made it real. Final.

“I see.”

When she looked at him again, she could see the conflict etched into his face—the way his jaw clenched, the tension in his shoulders. He didn’t want to do this. But he would. She knew that.

“You’re going to kill me,” she said softly, more a statement than a question.

His gaze snapped to hers, something raw flashing across his face. “I don’t want to.”

“I know.” Her voice was quiet, resigned. “But it’s what you have to do.”

Sanzu’s hand ran through his hair, his frustration visible. He didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. His silence said it all.

Hikari turned away, walking over to the window. The city lights blinked below, bathing her face in a soft glow as she looked out, her expression unreadable. “I’ve been dragged through timelines for weeks, months—maybe years. I can't even tell anymore. Every time, I lose more. Keisuke, Hotaru, Toman… they’re all gone. And it just keeps happening, over and over.”

Her voice cracked at the edges. “I keep trying to be the Hikari who always pushes forward. But it’s eating away at me, Sanzu. Piece by piece, with every loss, I lose more of myself.” She paused, her breath steadying. “What’s left for me here? Nothing.”

Sanzu’s chest tightened painfully. He knew her words would hit him hard, but he hadn’t expected them to cut this deep.

Hikari turned to him, her eyes red with unshed tears but somehow at peace. “Maybe the version of me in this timeline was right to give up,” she said softly. “Maybe this is just how it’s supposed to end.”

Sanzu’s throat tightened as he took in her acceptance. She was ready to let go, to meet her end here. And that crushed something inside him.

“Hikari,” he rasped, taking a step toward her, voice breaking. “You don’t have to go out like this.”

She shook her head, a sad smile on her lips. “If it’s time for me to go, then at least it’s you.” She took a shaky breath, meeting his gaze with quiet determination. “I trust you.”

The word trust sliced through him, deep and unrelenting. She trusted him to do this, to be her end. And that only made it worse.

Sanzu’s hands trembled at his sides, his breath uneven. She was asking him to finish this, and he couldn’t.

“I can’t fucking do it,” he whispered, barely audible. He looked at her, really looked at her—the girl who had survived with him, seen his darkest moments, understood him when no one else did or even wanted to. “Damn it, Hikari. I can’t.”

She reached out, her fingers brushing his arm, grounding him in the moment. “I don’t blame you, Sanzu,” she said gently. “If it has to happen, I want it to be you.”

“How can you accept this?” he growled, his voice thick with anger and frustration. “How can you just... give up?”

Her eyes softened, a sad smile crossing her face. “My heart’s shattered, and there’s no putting it back together,” she said, her voice breaking. “I’m so tired. My soul is tired, Sanzu. You don’t know how it feels.”

They stood in silence. Sanzu’s mind raced, torn between loyalty to Mikey and the bond he shared with Hikari. He had come here to carry out an order, to do what he was supposed to do. But he couldn’t.

With a deep, shaky breath, he stepped back, his hands trembling as he shoved them back into his pockets. “I... I can’t do it,” he muttered. “I can’t kill you, Hikari.”

Hikari’s eyes widened slightly, her breath catching as she watched him struggle. She didn’t know what to say. Slowly, she stepped forward, resting her hand on his arm.

“It’s okay,” she whispered softly. “It’s okay.”

But it wasn’t. Not for Sanzu. In that moment, he knew he was no longer the loyal enforcer he thought he was. He couldn’t follow this order. Not when it was her.

“I’ll figure something out,” he muttered, voice cracking.

And with that, Sanzu turned and left, leaving Hikari standing alone in the dim light of her apartment, her heart heavy but alive.

[monochromaticbeans]

Chapter 66: Foundations of Decay

See the man who stands upon the hill

But fate had left its scars upon his face

He dreams of all the battles won

With all the damage they had done

“The Foundations of Decay” ~ My Chemical Romance

Sanzu had always been a wildcard—volatile, dangerous, as unpredictable as a lit fuse. But what no one knew, not even Mikey, was that he carried knowledge of fractured timelines like scars beneath his skin. He wasn’t just another pawn in Bonten’s twisted game; he was someone who had seen, over and over, what happened when people tried to rewrite fate.

And now, as he watched Hikari unravel and reintegrate into a world that already broke her once, he felt something inside him stir. His loyalty to Mikey was unwavering, but his bond to Hikari? That was a thread woven long before Bonten, even before Toman, and well before everything around them blurred into something dark and twisted.

But that was nostalgia, and he couldn’t afford nostalgia. If Hikari’s refusal to let go of the past put Bonten at risk, he’d have to act.

Yet he hesitated.

One evening, he found himself outside her empty storage unit. He knew he shouldn’t be there, but the sight of her riding Baji’s bike, pulling relics from the past as if to reconstruct Toman in the heart of Bonten—he hadn’t expected that from her. It struck a nerve. She was doing what he hadn’t dared: trying to bring something good back to life. To bend the world to her ideals instead of bending her ideals to fit the world, like he did.

As he leaned against the cold metal wall, cigarette smoke curling in the air, he considered his options. Loyalty to Mikey was non-negotiable. That was a truth carved into him long ago. But something in him wondered if there might be another way—a way to remain loyal to Mikey without erasing Hikari.

He shared more with her than he had with anyone else. And now, standing here, watching her bring memories back from a time that was dead and gone, he felt something that was close to regret.

“You’ve been hanging around here a lot lately,” came a familiar voice from behind him.

Sanzu turned, unsurprised to see Chifuyu watching him, arms crossed, suspicion in his eyes. Chifuyu was no fool. He knew exactly who Sanzu was, what he was capable of—and he knew, too, about Sanzu’s connection to Hikari, though it was a subject they both avoided.

“Can’t say I missed that look, Chifuyu,” Sanzu said, voice casual but with a hard edge. He flicked his cigarette to the ground, crushing it under his heel.

“You’re watching her,” Chifuyu replied, not bothering with subtlety. “What are you planning?”

Sanzu’s smirk was humorless. “Planning? You make me sound like a heartless villain.”

Chifuyu’s silence spoke for itself. He’d seen Sanzu in action enough to know the man wasn’t someone to underestimate.

After a long pause, Sanzu sighed. “She’s a problem, Chifuyu. You know that.”

“She’s not your problem to solve,” Chifuyu said, his voice low and steely. “If you think you can just eliminate her because she doesn’t fit Bonten’s standards, you’re wrong.”

Sanzu’s smile faded, replaced by a coldness that fit him all too well. “It’s not that simple. I’m protecting her, but if Mikey decides she’s a threat, I’ll—”

“She’s not your enemy, Sanzu,” Chifuyu interrupted, stepping closer. “She’s Toman. She’s all that’s left of what we used to be. You destroy her, you destroy the last bit of good there still is.”

For a moment, the two men stood in tense silence, the weight of their words hanging in the air.

Sanzu’s jaw clenched, but his voice softened. “I never said I wanted to destroy her. But what I want doesn’t matter. What Mikey decides does.”

Chifuyu watched him closely, reading between the lines, catching the flicker of something haunted in Sanzu’s eyes. A hesitation, a conflict buried beneath layers of loyalty.

“What are you really after, Sanzu?” Chifuyu asked, voice lowered.

Sanzu ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t fucking know anymore. There’s no winning here. You think if she keeps this up, she’ll make it through this world? She’s going to get herself killed.”

Chifuyu’s hands clenched. “Then I’ll protect her. I don’t care what Bonten or Mikey thinks. She doesn’t deserve this.”

Sanzu’s eyes narrowed, his voice rising before he caught himself. “You think I don’t know that?” He exhaled sharply, turning away, his hand pressed against his forehead. “This isn’t about what’s fair. You, of all people, should know that.”

Chifuyu’s expression softened as he sensed the deeper struggle behind Sanzu’s words. “If you want to help her, stop lurking around like a ghost. Talk to her.”

Sanzu’s eyes darkened, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he turned and walked away, leaving Chifuyu staring after him, uncertain if he’d gotten through or only poked an old, sleeping wound.

Later that night, Sanzu found himself standing outside Hikari’s apartment building, the memory of her words at Baji’s grave replaying in his mind.

I don’t know if I can make it here…

Her lights were on, her silhouette moving across the room, a reminder that she was strong, even if he wasn’t sure why she kept fighting.

He stood in the shadows a long time, as he always had, watching her light spill out into the darkness. And for the first time in years, he felt the sharp ache of the choices he’d made.

But he turned away.

The next day, he made his decision.

***

Hikari cradled her teacup, a cigarette balanced between her fingers, smoke curling around her like her tangled thoughts. How did this version of me live with herself? No sense of self-preservation, slipping into Sanzu’s bed over and over, packing away everything she loved in a storage unit like it was useless clutter.

How had she and Sanzu come into their “arrangement,” anyway? The answer laid behind a door she hadn't opened yet. That tiny glimpse of it she got—his lips on her neck, the flash sensation of pleasure—it was more than she wanted to remember, but maybe there was more she needed to understand.

She sipped her tea and took a drag from the cigarette. Exhaling the smoke, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes, opening the door to those memories. Here goes…

Several years ago… at a bar. Taking shots with him, feeling buzzed and tipsy, exchanging glances. Reaching the door to her apartment, lips crashing together, a trail of discarded clothes leading to her bedroom.

She didn't need to remember the specifics. Was it just because they'd been drinking? No. It happened again and again. At her apartment, at his penthouse, in his car inside a parking garage. She gasped—in the office. Where everyone could hear it.

Bent over his desk, panties down around her knees. His voice, low and teasing, in her ear, ‘Keep moaning like that and everyone'll know what we're doing in here.’

She cringed as she opened her eyes. “Fucking shameless, Hikari,” she muttered to herself, taking another drag to shake off the memory.

She sighed, her gaze lingering on the skyline for a moment as the knock on the door interrupted her reverie. The cigarette hung loosely between her fingers, the ash growing long. She wasn’t expecting anyone this early.

Setting her tea aside, she stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray and walked to the door, her mind already swirling with possibilities. When she opened it, she found Sanzu standing there, looking more serious than usual. His eyes held a weight she hadn’t seen in years.

“Sanzu,” she greeted, her voice steady, but inside, her heart skipped a beat. He wasn't one for casual visits these days. “What are you doing here?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he looked her over, as if assessing something about her that he couldn’t quite put into words. There was an air of hesitation, something that didn’t suit him at all. “We need to talk,” he finally said, his tone low and gruff. “Again.”

Hikari stepped aside, sensing the tension. She led him to the balcony where her tea sat cooling, and he followed, lingering near the doorframe. His gaze flicked to the ashtray. “Smoking again?”

“Only when I’m stressed,” she replied, taking a seat. “What’s this about?”

Sanzu remained standing, leaning against the balcony railing, his eyes sharp. “It’s not safe for you anymore.”

Her heart sank. She felt the eyes on her, the whispers growing louder every day, but hearing it confirmed by Sanzu—someone who had seen all sides of Bonten—hit harder than she’d expected. “Mikey,” she said quietly. It wasn’t a question.

He nodded. “Yeah. Mikey…” Sanzu’s voice trailed off, his jaw tightening.

Hikari exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of his words settle on her. She knew Mikey had changed, but hearing it from Sanzu confirmed that things had taken an even darker turn. “What are you trying to say? That I should leave?”

“I’m saying you’re officially a liability now,” he replied, blunt as ever, but there was a softness beneath the harsh words. “And you know what happens to liabilities in Bonten.”

She felt his words hang between them, as heavy as the cigarette smoke still lingering in the air. Sanzu knew exactly how cold he sounded, slipping into the role of Bonten’s second in command—the mad dog who didn’t hesitate. But she also caught the hint of softness beneath his bluntness, the part of him that wasn’t speaking.

I should just walk away, he thought. Let this be her warning. But he couldn’t walk away from Hikari; she was the last piece of his old life he still understood. She clung to the past—shit, she was the past, the same Hikari she'd always been—and it roused something he’d buried under years of bloodshed and blind loyalty to Mikey.

He leaned against the railing, his eyes drifting to the city skyline beyond the balcony. From this vantage point, everything seemed so far away, so untouchable. But up close, the cracks in their world were deep and dangerous. He and Hikari were both products of that broken world. But where she’s fighting to hold onto some glimmer of who she is, Sanzu embraced the void. He became everything Toman wasn’t supposed to be—ruthless, merciless, and willing to do whatever it took. And it gave him such a rush.

Seeing Hikari as she is now, even after everything they’d been through together, he couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of longing. Not for her, exactly, but for the simplicity of the past—the time when they were all just kids, when Toman felt like a real family. Before everything shattered.

She was my escape, Sanzu thought, his fingers flexing against the metal of the railing. In the years after Toman crumbled, Hikari had been the only person who even remotely understood him, the only one who could stand being around him when he wasn’t sure he could stand himself. Their relationship hadn’t been about love or even comfort, really. The physical closeness they shared had been a way to feel something—anything—in a world that had gone numb. But even that was dangerous now.

He knew Hikari too well. She wasn’t one to lay low, no matter what anyone told her. Her tenacity was one of the reasons he respected her, but now, it was a double-edged sword. She was walking a fine line.

Sanzu’s loyalty to Mikey was absolute. It always has been. Even now, as Mikey sank further into darkness, Sanzu would still follow him to the ends of the earth. But seeing Hikari fight to keep Baji and Hotaru’s memories alive—seeing her fight for something that had long since been consumed by blood and violence—made him wonder if his loyalty was misplaced, if only for a fleeting millisecond.

He glanced at her, watching as she fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve, one of her nervous habits he’d come to recognize over the years. She’s so much stronger than she realizes, he thought, his chest tightening. But strength wasn’t enough in this world, not anymore. Not when survival meant becoming something colder and harder.

“You’re not the only one who misses the past, Hikari,” he murmured, barely realizing he’d spoken. The words felt like weakness, like vulnerability he couldn’t afford.

Hikari looked up with a soft understanding in her gaze, and he cursed himself for letting that side of him show.

That’s the problem, Sanzu thought bitterly. She always understands, even when I don’t want her to.

“I miss it, too,” he continued, his eyes fixed on the horizon. “But the past isn’t going to save you. You need to stop trying to bring it back.”

Her gaze remained steady, but he could see her shoulders relax just slightly, like his words had reached her. But he knew it wouldn’t change her mind. She wasn’t someone who could let go so easily. Not when it was all she had left.

Sanzu pushed off the railing, standing taller. “I don’t want to see you get killed. But when Mikey makes that call, I’ll follow his orders. You understand that.”

Hikari’s expression flickered with pain, but she nodded slowly. “I know,” she replied, her voice steady but soft. “I know you will.”

Sanzu clenched his fists. He’d warned her; he’d tried. If she didn’t listen, there was nothing more he could do.

As he turned to leave, her voice stopped him.

“Why are you really here, Sanzu?”

He froze, back still turned, her question cutting through the silence. He felt her eyes on him, waiting for an answer he wasn’t sure he could give.

After a long pause, he sighed and turned back, his expression softer than before. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “Maybe I wanted to see if there was anything left of who we used to be.”

Hikari’s eyes softened, and for a fleeting moment, it was as if the years of darkness never existed. Just as quickly, the moment faded, and Sanzu’s cold expression returned.

“But this world doesn’t give a shit about who we used to be,” he said, his voice harder now. “It only cares about what we are now.”

Without waiting for her to respond, he turned and walked out the door, leaving Hikari alone on the balcony, the weight of their shared past hanging heavily in the air.

***

Hikari stood before the towering doors to Mikey’s office, her heart pounding in her chest like a relentless drum. She knew this conversation could go one of two ways—either it would bring her a kind of closure, or it would be the end of everything. But whatever the outcome, she couldn’t keep drifting between two worlds.

She inhaled deeply, summoning the last of her courage, and pushed open the door.

Mikey sat at his desk, his back to her, staring out over the city’s cold, sterile glow. The room felt hollow, like the light had no warmth or life. His presence filled the room, heavy and silent.

For a moment, she faltered, the weight of the silence pressing on her. But then she stepped forward, her footsteps barely audible against the polished floor, until she stood at his desk, her voice a whisper.

“Mikey... I need to talk to you.”

He didn’t respond, his silhouette as still as a statue. She swallowed, the silence filling her with dread, but she pushed through it, her words coming out raw, stripped down to the vulnerability she could no longer mask.

“I don’t fit here, Mikey,” she said, her voice wavering but resolute. “I’ve tried—I’ve really tried—to make sense of this world. To survive in it. But I’m still clinging to the past because... it was the only time I ever felt I belonged. Toman was more than just a gang. It was family. It mattered, and I felt like I mattered, too.”

Mikey’s silence felt like a verdict, each second of it gnawing at her, hollowing her out. She searched his profile for any flicker of the boy she’d once trusted, the friend who would’ve understood the weight of her words. But all she saw was the shadow he’d become.

“If holding onto those memories makes me a traitor in your eyes,” she whispered, feeling her voice crack as she struggled to hold back the well of emotion inside her, “if that’s what makes me dangerous to Bonten, then... I don’t know what else to say.” She swallowed hard, her hands bunching tightly on the ends of her jacket sleeves. This was it, the ultimate confession. “If you want to send me to Keisuke and Hotaru…” She could barely speak their names, and they came out strangled. “I’m alright with that.”

The words hung in the air like a death sentence, thick and suffocating. Her chest rose and fell with each shallow breath, and she braced herself, wondering if this would be her end—if Mikey would finally condemn her.

Finally, he turned his head, just slightly, enough for her to catch the hardened edge of his face, his eyes dark and empty as a void. His voice was a low murmur, cold and detached. “Is that what you want?”

The question struck her like a blow, knocking the breath from her. Did she want that? Her resolve wavered, and she almost doubted herself. “I... I don’t know,” she whispered, her voice small, the admission heavy. “I just know I can’t keep pretending.”

Mikey turned to face her fully then, his eyes meeting hers with a gaze so icy it made her stomach twist.

“What do you want from me, Hikari?” His words were as sharp as glass, cutting through the air. “You say you don’t belong here, but here you are. You say you’re alright with dying, but you’re still standing in front of me, alive. So tell me—what is it you’re really asking for?”

Her gaze dropped, her hands loosening as the weight of his words sank in. “I’m not asking for anything,” she replied softly, her voice drained. “I just needed to tell you the truth. I’ve been trying to make sense of a world that doesn’t make sense, and... I know you’ll do what you think you have to.”

His expression remained a mask of cold indifference, but for just an instant, she saw something flicker in his eyes—a brief glimpse of the boy he’d once been, the friend she’d believed in with everything. But then it was gone, like a shadow receding, leaving only the hardened man before her.

She looked down, barely holding back the tears stinging her eyes. “I’m tired, Mikey,” she whispered, her voice breaking under the weight of years of grief and loss. “I’m so tired.”

The silence that followed was absolute, stretching into an eternity. She felt her heart pounding in her chest, each beat a reminder that she was still alive, still here, even though every instinct in her screamed to run. To leave this room and never look back. But instead, she waited, every muscle in her body tense, wondering if this would be the moment he’d give the order.

For a long, painful moment, they stared at each other, two strangers standing on either side of the gulf that had once been a friendship. And in that endless silence, she saw her answer. There was no boy left in him, no trace of the Mikey who had once been the center of their world.

Hikari turned and walked to the door, her fingers trembling as she reached for the handle, her heart heavy with a final, irreversible understanding.

This Mikey was nothing more than a ghost in the shell of someone she’d once loved. And no matter how much she longed for the past, she knew now that it was gone.

Just as she reached the door, Mikey’s voice stopped her. “You’re right,” he murmured, his tone so low it was barely audible. “You don’t belong here.”

The words felt final, a verdict handed down without appeal. And as she stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind her, Hikari felt a deep, cold emptiness settle over her—a reminder that no matter how far she went, there was no returning to the life she’d lost.

[monochromaticbeans]

So true. So very true. 😂

I've cried while writing and editing certain chapters. 😭

[monochromaticbeans]

Cannot wait to see this animated! 🤩

Fine ass mfs <33333