neurodivergentminor

[neurodivergentminor]

“Maybe That’s My Heart”

Order to read: Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Practice had run way later than they planned Aiku and Sendou had bailed first, mumbling something about last trains, leaving only Sae and Shidou lingering under the fluorescent lights.

When they finally stepped outside, the streets were almost empty. Sae adjusted her strap bag, ready to head straight home, but Shidou just leaned against the rail, chewing her gum, looking at her like she was waiting for an excuse.

"What?" Sae asked flatly.

Shidou's grin widened. "Missed my train." She dragged out the words, leaning closer until her perfume sugary sweet, mixed with cigarette smoke reached Sae. "Nowhere to crash."

"Not my problem," Sae said immediately, turning to walk.

Shidou caught her sleeve, tugging it playfully. "Oh, come on. What, you gonna leave me wandering the streets in heels? That's cruel, even for you."

Sae hesitated. She could already picture her parents' raised brows, Rin's sharp eyes. Letting Shidou into her house felt like inviting a storm. "My parents... and Rin. They'd—"

"They'll live," Shidou interrupted, flashing that shameless gyaru smile. "I'll be quiet. Promise. I'll even say I'm a study buddy or some shit."

Sae sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She hated how easily Shidou bulldozed her refusals. "...Fine. Just for tonight."

Which was how they ended up here, in Sae's room.

The door was shut, the lights dimmed, and both of them sat on the edge of Sae's neatly made bed like they weren't sure what to do next. Sae sat stiffly, back straight, hands folded in her lap. Shidou sprawled beside her, already too close, her short skirt riding high as she leaned on one arm.

"Well, well," Shidou drawled, scanning the tidy shelves, the carefully stacked books. "Never thought I'd see Sae-chan's secret lair. Kinda sterile, though. Like a hotel room."

"It's a bedroom," Sae muttered.

Shidou grinned, tilting her head until her dyed hair brushed Sae's shoulder. "Then why's it feel like you've never had anyone in here?"

Sae shifted, trying to put a bit of space between them, but Shidou just closed it again, leaning in with that clingy, fake-innocent pout. Her hand landed lightly on Sae's thigh, nails grazing the fabric.

"You're so stiff, Sae. Relax. I'm not gonna bite..." Her smile sharpened, eyes flicking up. "...unless you want me to."

The house was quiet, too quiet compared to the ringing in Sae's ears that practice always left behind. She lay stiffly on her side, staring at the faint glow of the streetlight leaking through the curtains. Sharing a bed wasn't new — band trips, sleepovers, hotel gigs — but with Shidou right behind her, it felt... different. Off.

Every shift made her hyperaware: the rustle of blankets, the warmth pressed a little too close, the steady rhythm of Shidou's breathing.

Why does it feel strange? Sae asked herself, pressing her lips together. It's just Shidou. I've done this before. So why...

Cautiously, she turned her head to glance over her shoulder. Shidou was sprawled across the pillow, eyeliner smudged, her bleached hair falling in messy strands over her face. Her lips were parted, breath soft. Even asleep, she somehow looked bold. Untouchable.

Sae sighed and rolled back around, willing herself to ignore it and sleep.

Then it happened: an arm slid lazily around her waist, pulling her into unexpected warmth.

Sae froze, every muscle locked. Shidou had shifted in her sleep, hand splayed against her stomach like it had always belonged there.

Before Sae could decide whether to move her off, Shidou muttered something under her breath. Her voice was rough, blurred with sleep.

"...Sae... mm... don't be so cold..."

Sae's eyes snapped open. What?

Shidou's grip tightened slightly, her forehead brushing the back of Sae's neck. "...always so serious... cute though..." The words tumbled out in a half-dream, careless and slurred.

Sae's pulse hammered in her ears. "...Idiot," she whispered, though it came out weaker than she intended.

She lay there, confused and unwilling to shake Shidou awake, listening to her mumble fragments of nonsense and half-teasing lines in her sleep. For every word, Sae only sank deeper into that strange, suffocating mix of irritation and... something else she couldn't name

Morning sunlight cut through the curtains, striping the room in pale gold. Sae stirred first, blinking against the brightness. Her body felt heavy, warm — too warm.

It took her a second to realize why.

Shidou's arm was still draped across her waist, her body pressed close from behind. Her hair tickled Sae's neck, and her breath came in slow, even puffs against her shoulder.

Sae froze. Memories of the night before flickered back: the weight of Shidou's hand, the half-asleep muttering — don't be so cold... cute though...

Her chest tightened. She exhaled slowly, peeling Shidou's arm off her with as little fuss as possible. Sliding out of bed, she stood, smoothing her hair down and straightening her clothes, forcing her face back into its usual calm.

It was nothing. She was asleep. Don't overthink it.

Behind her, Shidou groaned, stretching like a cat before sitting up. Her mascara had smudged worse overnight, and her hair stuck out in every direction, but the lazy grin she wore was as sharp as ever.

"Morning, Sae-chan," she drawled, voice husky with sleep. "You always look this cute first thing, or is it just 'cause you woke up next to me?"

Sae turned, expression flat. "Don't flatter yourself. You drooled on my pillow."

Shidou laughed, running a hand through her tangled hair. "Worth it. Comfy bed, good company." She leaned back on her hands, looking her over. "You didn't sleep much, huh? Kept shifting. Nervous sharing a bed with me?"

"No," Sae said quickly, tone clipped. She picked up her bag from the desk, keeping her back to her. "I just don't like noise. You talk in your sleep."

"Oh?" Shidou tilted her head, smirk widening. "What'd I say?"

Sae hesitated a fraction too long before answering. "...Nothing worth repeating."

Shidou laughed again, leaning forward, eyes glinting. "Damn. If it made you flustered, it must've been good."

Sae kept her face composed, slipping into her usual nonchalance even as heat prickled her ears. "Don't push it, Shidou. Breakfast is downstairs. Eat and leave before Rin sees you."

"Cold as always," Shidou said, standing and stretching, her skirt riding up her thighs. She stepped closer as she passed Sae, brushing her arm deliberately against hers. "But hey... You didn't kick me out last night. So I'll take that as a win."

Sae padded down the hallway, toothbrush and towel in hand, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The bathroom door was cracked open, and just as she reached for the handle, Shidou slipped in ahead of her with a smug grin.

"Seriously?" Sae muttered.

Shidou flicked the lock shut. "What? I was here first."

"No, you weren't." Sae sighed, resting her forehead against the door. "You didn't even bring a toothbrush."

Through the door, Sae heard the sink start, then Shidou humming off-key, deliberately loud. Sae pinched the bridge of her nose, toothbrush still dry in her hand. Why am I letting her get away with this?

After a few minutes, the door finally opened, steam spilling out. Shidou emerged wrapped in one of Sae's towels, her bleached hair damp and sticking to her cheeks, mascara smudged faintly under her eyes. She looked more like she'd rolled out of a club than a sleepover.

"You're welcome," Shidou said, brushing past her.

Sae stepped into the bathroom, giving her a look. "Don't use my towels again."

"They're soft," Shidou shot back, leaning against the doorframe while Sae uncapped her toothpaste.

Sae ignored her, brushing quietly, eyes fixed on her reflection. But it was impossible not to notice Shidou still there, arms folded, watching her through the mirror.

"What?" Sae mumbled, mouth full of foam.

Shidou smirked, rubbing a towel roughly over her hair. "You brush like you're in some kind of exam."

Sae spat, rinsed, and wiped her mouth on her towel. "Unlike you, I don't half-ass basic things."

"Ouch," Shidou said, but her voice had that light, teasing lilt. She drifted closer, leaning an elbow on the counter. The damp smell of her shampoo — too sweet, too strong — filled the space between them.

Sae stepped sideways, putting distance between them as she grabbed her towel. "You're in the way."

"Mm," Shidou hummed, watching her dry her face. After a beat, her voice dropped, softer but still teasing. "Bet it's kinda nice, though. Having me around."

Sae paused, towel pressed to her skin. Her reflection betrayed her the faintest flicker in her eyes before she forced her expression back into calm neutrality.

"You're noisy," she said finally. "And reckless. And you steal things."

"Yeah," Shidou admitted with a lazy grin, turning to leave. "But you didn't kick me out."

Sae stayed quiet, folding her towel neatly, but her silence spoke louder than anything she could've said.

The dining room smelled faintly of grilled fish and miso. Sae sat stiffly at the table, chopsticks poised neatly in her hand, while Shidou lounged beside her in one of Sae's borrowed T-shirts, hair still damp from her shower.

"Eat up, eat up," Mrs. Itoshi said warmly, setting another small dish in front of Shidou. "You're so polite, Shidou-chan. It's nice having someone your age here."

Shidou grinned, bowing her head slightly. "Thank you, ma'am. Your cooking's amazing — better than any café near my place, that's for sure."

Mr. Itoshi chuckled, clearly entertained by her easy confidence. "You play guitar, right? Sae mentioned your band. Takes guts to perform on the street like that."

"Ah, well," Shidou said with an exaggerated shrug, but her eyes sparkled. "We just like giving people something to vibe to. Nothing serious."

"You undersell yourself," Mr. Itoshi said, nodding approvingly.

Across the table, Rin sat with her arms folded, barely touching her rice. Her expression was tight, eyes flicking between Shidou's grin and Sae's calm face. Finally, she muttered under her breath, "Fake."

Sae frowned slightly. "Rin."

"What?" Rin snapped, glaring at her sister before turning back to her bowl. "She's just acting nice. It's not real."

Shidou tilted her head, amusement tugging at her mouth, but for once she didn't shoot back. She only sipped her miso soup quietly, letting the tension hang.

Sae set her chopsticks down. "Don't be rude. She's our guest."

Rin's jaw tightened. "You always take her side lately."

"Because you're being unfair," Sae said evenly, though the words came out sharper than she intended.

The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the clink of Shidou's chopsticks against her bowl. Finally, Rin pushed her chair back with a scrape, eyes burning into Sae's.

"Do you even like her, Sae? Is that why you're defending her?"

Sae froze, pulse spiking. The room felt too small, every sound amplified — Shidou's quiet inhale, her parents' startled glance, the blood rushing in her ears.

For a moment, Sae's carefully built composure threatened to crack. She reached for her tea, steadying her hands around the cup, and replied flatly, "Eat your breakfast, Rin."

The afternoon sun beat down as they left the rehearsal space, gear slung over their shoulders. Aiku and Sendou had already split off with a wave, leaving just Sae and Shidou wandering toward the station.

Shidou shoved her hands into her pockets, rocking back on her heels as she walked beside Sae. "Man, your dad really liked me," she said with a grin. "Think I scored points with the family, huh?"

Sae didn't look at her. "You got lucky he humors people easily."

Shidou laughed. "Lucky, huh? Pretty sure your mom told me to come over again anytime. And your dad asked about our band like I'm already his future daughter-in-law."

Sae's steps faltered, just for a second. "Don't say stupid things."

"Aw, you're blushing," Shidou teased, leaning closer, tilting her head to catch Sae's expression. "Is it because Rin called you out yesterday? What was it again... 'Do you like her?'" She mimicked Rin's serious tone almost perfectly, then burst into giggles.

Sae stopped in her tracks, glaring at her. "Drop it."

"Not a chance." Shidou leaned in even closer now, voice low and mischievous. "You didn't answer her, y'know. You just got all stiff and serious, like—" She mimicked Sae's stone-faced expression, shoulders squared and lips pressed thin.

Sae exhaled sharply, walking ahead, refusing to dignify her with a reply.

"C'mon, Sae-chan," Shidou called after her, amusement thick in her voice. "If you really didn't like me, you'd say it. Easy."

Sae froze for a heartbeat, her back to Shidou. Then, in the most even voice she could muster, she muttered, "You're insufferable."

Shidou jogged to catch up, grinning ear to ear. "That's not a no, though."

[neurodivergentminor]

poor shin

[neurodivergentminor]

I dunno why I even made it but I think we all love loser bf and girl boss gf ?!!!

[neurodivergentminor]

𝓚𝓲𝓷𝓰'𝓼 𝓓𝓪𝔂

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 6

Its almost 6 months ever since you two dated everything ...everything had been perfect—or at least it felt that way. Dates, stolen kisses, late nights where Izana let you see the side of him no one else did. He used to drag you along to his meetings, even if you didn't understand half of what was said. Sometimes you'd interrupt, embarrass yourself, or make the guys laugh so hard the meeting got canceled, but no one minded because Izana didn't. He made you feel like you belonged.

But lately... he stopped.

No more meetings. No more Tenjiku crowding your family's ramen shop. He didn't pick up when you called, barely answered your messages, and every time you saw him, he acted like you were something fragile he couldn't let the world touch. He'd watch you like a hawk, hand heavy on your shoulder as if someone was always about to hurt you.

And then there were the shadows. His dudes like Ran, Rindou, sometimes Kakucho or others always hanging around when you went out, pretending it was coincidence. Like you needed bodyguards. Like you couldn't breathe without Izana posting someone on your trail.

One evening, after spotting Ran and Rindou lingering by a convenience store while you were just trying to buy things, you'd had enough. You marched straight up to them.

"Where is he?" Your voice came out sharper than you meant, but the frustration had been building for weeks. "What's wrong with Izana? Why is he acting like this?"

The brothers exchanged a look. Ran smirked, hands shoved in his pockets. Rindou turned his head away, jaw tight.

"Don't give me that," you pressed, stepping closer. "You know something. Tell me."

They stayed silent, so you pushed harder, voice rising with desperation. "Please. Just tell me the truth. I'm not stupid I know something's wrong."

Rindou finally snapped. His patience frayed, his tone sharp enough to cut. "Fine, you wanna know? Izana fucked with the wrong gang. Some punks with connections—real yakuza, not kids playing dress-up. He picked that fight, and now we're in it. And yeah, we're not scared. We can handle it."

His eyes slid over you, cold. "But you? You're not strong. You're not smart in this world. You're just... normal. A clingy girl hanging off the boss. A pretty face he treats like an accessory."

The words hit harder than you expected, leaving you frozen.

Ran immediately elbowed his brother, scowling. "Oi, don't say it like that." He glanced at you, almost guilty. "That's not what he meant."

But the damage was done. Your chest tightened, eyes stinging. Normal. Useless. Clingy. Pretty face. Each word carved into you like it had been waiting there all along.

Rindou muttered a curse, rubbing the back of his neck. Even he seemed to realize how harsh he'd been. "Tch. Look, that's why he's keeping you away. He doesn't want you caught in it. You're the only soft spot he's got, and everyone knows it."

Ran sighed, his voice gentler now. "He cares. More than you think. That's why he's acting strange. He's not pushing you away—he's trying to keep you safe."

As they feel gulity so they take you ride to izana's apartment. When the bike finally  stop, you realized where you were in his apartment building. 

Rindou didn't even look at you as he muttered, "He's upstairs. Go." 

Your hand trembled on the door handle. He was on the couch. He looked like he hadn't slept in days. When his gaze snapped up to yours, he straightened immediately. "You're here." 

You lingered in the doorway, unsure if you should step in or run. "...Why didn't you tell me what's going on?"

His eyes narrowed, calculating. He leaned back on the couch, spreading out like he owned the whole damn room. "Because it's not your fight."

"That's not an answer." Your voice cracked, more fragile than you wanted. "You've been avoiding me. Sending your guys to trail me like—like I'm some fragile thing that'll shatter if I breathe wrong."

He didn't move for a moment. Then he stood, slow, deliberate and walk up to you. "It's not about treating you fragile," he said, voice low. "It's about keeping you alive."

"And what about me?" you shot back, the frustration finally spilling over. "Do I get a say in any of this, or am I just some doll you hide away when things get bad?"

"You don't get it," he said quietly, but the tension in his jaw betrayed him. "This isn't just punks in the street anymore. These guys real yakuza don't give a fuck about rules. They see me with you, you're leverage. One phone call, and you're gone."

You hated how your heart jumped at his closeness, how your body read it as intimacy even when your brain screamed at you to be angry. "So your solution is to shut me out? Make me feel useless?"

Izana's gaze flickered, a flash of something almost vulnerable, but then it hardened again. "Better useless than dead."

Your chest caved at that. "Is that what they all think too? That I'm just some fragile doll you drag around until I get in the way? Because that's what they said. That I'm nothing but—" Your voice cracked, heat rising to your cheeks. "—a pretty face clinging to their leader."

Izana froze. His eyes searched yours, and for once there was no smugness, no mask—just something raw. His hand slid from the wall to your chin, lifting it gently, forcing you to look at him.

"You're not useless," he muttered. "You're the only fucking thing keeping me steady. Do you get that? The only thing I can't just replace or throw away. You think I'm keeping you out because I don't need you? I'm keeping you out because if something happened to you, I wouldn't survive it."

"That's what you do to me," he whispered, almost hoarse. "You ruin me. No blade, no rival, no gang has ever scared me. But you—" He broke off, swallowing hard. "You scare the shit out of me. Because if they ever touched you, I wouldn't survive it." 

 He kissed you the kiss wasn't soft. His hands tangled in your hair, then trailed down to your waist, pulling you flush against him. Once he finally broke away, both of you were gasping, your foreheads pressed together. His voice dropped, almost a plea now.

"So don't you ever—" his thumb brushed your cheek, wiping a tear away "don't you ever call yourself useless again. Not when you're the only reason I'm still breathing."

is hands were on your waist, pulling you down with him as he dropped back onto the couch. You landed against his chest with a small gasp, both of his arms locking around you like he wasn't about to let go anytime soon. His fingers drifted to your shirt, slowly tugging at a button. He didn't rush, though. His gaze flicked back to yours, quiet but pointed

"Wait," you said, eyes narrowing. "What's with that look? Like you're waiting for me to nod or something."

He tilted his head. "Maybe I am."

That caught you off guard, but instead of answering, you shoved him down and swung a leg over him, straddling his lap. "Then let me show you," you shot back, unbuttoning his shirt with clumsy fingers.

Izana's eyes widened a fraction, then he let out a laugh that shook his chest under your palms. "Well, damn. Didn't think you'd flip it like that."

"Shut up." You bit your lip, tugging at the fabric. "You always act like you're in charge. Tonight's different."

You arched a brow, then caught his wrist and shoved him back against the cushions. His eyes widened a fraction, then he broke into a low laugh.

"Clumsy as hell," he murmured, voice rough with amusement. "But damn, I like seeing you try."

You shot him a glare but kept going, peeling fabric off his shoulders. He didn't fight it—in fact, he guided your hands, steadying you when you hesitated, showing you where to touch. His eyes stayed locked on you, heavy, burning.

"Cute... thinking you're in charge," he said, chuckling when you pressed your lips to his collarbone. "Fuck, look at you. My little queen, huh?"

For a while, he let you lead, even guiding your hands over his body. You weren't perfect, but he didn't care—he was enjoying every second of it. His hands gripped your hips, grounding you, but he didn't steal control. Not yet.

Eventually, though, your pace faltered, your arms trembling from effort. Izana caught it instantly. With a sharp movement, he flipped you onto your back, pinning you down.

"Thought you could tire me out?" he muttered against your ear, his voice rough with amusement. "Cute. But you don't run this game, baby. I do."

You let out a breathless laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck. "God, you're such a control freak."

"Damn right." He kissed you hard, cutting off whatever comeback you had.

As things escalated, you gasped against his lips. "Izana—slow down—"

"Fuck that," he growled, pressing his forehead against yours. "Don't tell me to slow down when you're the one who started this."

You laughed again, but it broke into a moan when his pace left you breathless. Still, you managed to get words out between gasps.

"You're—so—selfish—"

"Yeah," he smirked, pinning your chin so your eyes locked with his. "Selfish for you. Don't fucking look away. If you're mine, you stay right here. Got it?"

"...Got it," you whispered, cheeks hot but eyes locked on his.

By the end, the two of you were tangled messes, collapsed on the couch. Izana was silent for a while, breathing hard, until you nudged his shoulder.

"You okay?" you asked softly, brushing his hair back from his face.

He huffed a laugh, lighting a cigarette with shaky hands. "...Don't ever doubt you're mine," he muttered, smoke curling past his lips.

You smiled faintly, kissing his shoulder. "I never did. You're the one who kept pushing me away."

Izana's eyes flicked to yours, sharp but tired. "...Maybe I just don't wanna lose the only good thing I've got."

Your chest ached, and without thinking, you pressed closer. "Then don't."

For once, he didn't have a comeback. He just pulled you in tighter.

(Well, discontinued, not sure, as it's private )

[neurodivergentminor]

𝓚𝓲𝓷𝓰'𝓼 𝓓𝓪𝔂

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 5

The next day after school, you couldn't stop second-guessing yourself. Should you call him? Should you just act like yesterday never happened? The memory of hugging him—and your dad's angry voice cutting through the moment—still burned in your head.

Meanwhile, Izana was restless in his own way. He'd never admit it, not to Tenjiku, not even to Kakucho who knew him best. But his smokes burned faster than usual, and his jaw was set tighter than iron. The bastard hated waiting, and now he was waiting on you.

When classes ended, you stepped outside and there he was—leaning against his bike, hair catching the orange glow of the setting sun. He didn't look nervous. He never did. But the way his eyes flicked up the second you appeared gave him away.

You walked together in silence, like neither of you wanted to break whatever fragile thing was hanging between you. Eventually, you ended up at the same ramen shop. The place was quiet again, just the faint clatter of bowls from the kitchen where your mom was working.

You picked at your noodles before whispering, "Sorry... about yesterday. My dad shouting when I hugged you—"

Izana shrugged like it meant nothing, shoving a mouthful of noodles down without flinching. "Tch. Old man can bark all he wants. Doesn't change shit." He kept eating, but his gaze lingered on you a little too long, like he was fighting with himself.

Then he reached across the table, sliding his hand over yours. His grip was steady, warm, possessive. You didn't pull away—instead, you held on tighter.

For a moment, it was just the sound of his breathing and the faint hiss of broth simmering in the kitchen. Then Izana's eyes locked onto yours, stripped of that usual sharp madness. No smirk. No arrogance. Just him.

"Umm... Y/N," he said quietly, almost awkwardly. "I'm not good at this shit. I'll never be smooth, I'll never be the guy who says all the right things. But... you're special to me." His thumb brushed over your knuckles, like he needed the contact to keep going.

"I wanna protect you. I wanna spoil you. Make you feel like the most important person in the world. Even if I don't know how the fuck to do it right, I'll still try. You deserve that." He let out a low laugh, shaking his head. "Hell, I'd treat you like a queen even if I can barely keep my own shit together."

Your face went hot, your heart thudding against your ribs. For a second, you couldn't even speak—you were too stunned by Izana Sano, of all people, laying his guard down for you.

Finally, you whispered, voice trembling but certain, "I... I feel the same, Izana."

He didn't gloat. Didn't mock. He just squeezed your hand harder, lips curving into a faint, dangerous smile.

"Good," he murmured. "Then you're mine now. Don't make me repeat myself."

Dating Izana didn't feel like the kind of love story you'd ever seen in movies. There were no fancy restaurants, no roses on your doorstep. Instead, your nights together were loud arcades reeking of cigarette smoke, rooftops where the wind stung your cheeks, and ramen bowls shared after midnight while the city burned neon outside.

He wasn't expressive—not to anyone else. To Tenjiku, Izana was still their ruthless leader, sharp-eyed and dangerous, his voice enough to silence a room. But with you, sometimes, his mask slipped.

Like the night he picked you up after school. You'd hesitated to even come—your dad's disapproval still stung—but there he was, leaning against his bike, arms crossed, the picture of casual indifference. But when he saw you, his eyes softened just enough that you noticed.

"You're late," he said flatly, though the corner of his mouth tugged upward.

"You're early," you shot back, surprising yourself with how easy it was to tease him.

He didn't reply—just handed you the spare helmet and kicked his bike to life. The ride wasn't long, but the way his hand brushed your thigh when you wrapped your arms around him made your pulse skip.

That evening, he brought you to a Tenjiku meeting.

It was held in some run-down bar, smoke curling thick in the air, laughter and cursing bouncing off the walls. Maps and notebooks littered the table, but none of it made sense to you. While Izana lounged at the head of the table, the others tossed around names of rival gangs, schedules, places you'd never heard of.

You tried to listen. You really did. But after a while your head started to tilt, your gaze wandering to the old jukebox in the corner.

Izana noticed.

"Y/N," he called suddenly, cutting through Rindou's half-serious rant about territory. "You're bored out of your damn mind, aren't you?"

You flushed. "...A little?"

Ran's grin spread like wildfire. "Damn, boss, you're losing her to a jukebox. That's cold."

Shion barked a laugh. Even Kakucho cracked a small smile.

Izana smirked lazily, but there was no malice in it. He leaned back, folding his arms. "Meeting's over."

"What?" Muto gawked, half-rising from his chair. "We didn't even finish—"

"Did I stutter?" Izana's voice was soft, dangerous, but his eyes flicked back to you like it was a private joke.

The others groaned but obeyed. They were used to it by now—used to the fact that when you were around, Izana didn't care about their war plans half as much.

And then there were the nights at your family's ramen shop.

It started with just Izana dropping by. Then one night, Ran followed. Then Shion. Then Rindou. Before long, Tenjiku was practically camping there. They were loud, reckless, sometimes obnoxious—but your mom never complained. The registers rang more in one night than they usually did in a week.

Your dad grumbled endlessly, muttering about "delinquents scaring off real customers," but Izana only sat calmly in the corner booth, one arm draped across the back of the seat, his other hand casually hooked around yours beneath the table.

"Relax," he told your dad once, his tone flat but oddly reassuring. "We'll pay. No one's breaking shit in your shop."

Your dad gave him a look that was half mistrust, half resignation. But he didn't argue again.

You'd catch Kakucho watching sometimes, not with judgment, but with something almost warm in his eyes. He'd known Izana since they were kids, knew how hard it was for him to let anyone in. Seeing Izana lean closer to you, actually laugh at something you said, must have felt like watching a miracle.

And you? You weren't a delinquent. You weren't part of their violence, their chaos, their blood-soaked loyalty. But sitting in that cramped ramen shop, Tenjiku bickering over dumplings and Ran trying to sweet-talk your mom into giving him extra pork, you felt strangely at ease.

Because no matter how dangerous the world outside was, Izana's hand never left yours.

And in that simple, steady grip, you felt the truth:

You didn't just belong with him.

You belonged to him.

Next part

[neurodivergentminor]

𝓚𝓲𝓷𝓰'𝓼 𝓓𝓪𝔂

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 4

Izana slammed his door shut, heart still hammering like he'd sprinted the whole way back. He leaned against it for a second, dragging a hand through his hair.

What the fuck was that?

Why the hell did he let himself lose control like that?

Her arms around him, her warmth — and then her old man's voice crashing through like gunfire.

Every worst-case scenario tore through his head as he kicked his shoes off and lined them on the rack out of habit.

When he finally walked into the living room, the place was already chaos. Tenjiku was sprawled across the apartment, boxes of cheap liquor littered everywhere, laughter bouncing off the walls. Mochizuki was half-yelling some story, Shion and Rindou were arguing over cards, and Muto was quietly drinking in the corner like he'd rather be anywhere else.

"Oi, boss!" Ran sing-songed, raising a bottle. "Look who finally decided to show up. Thought you'd be dragging someone in with you."

Izana ignored the shit-eating grin and sat down, grabbing a bottle for himself. He barely took a sip before Shion and Rindou slid in on either side of him, leaning close like idiots.

"So," Shion smirked, nudging him, "how'd it go with Y/N? You two fuck yet, or you still stuck on holding hands like middle schoolers?"

"Yeah," Rindou added with a lazy grin. "Unofficial date, huh? Don't keep us waiting."

Izana's grip on the bottle tightened.

Then Ran chimed in again, lazy grin spreading. "I honestly thought you'd bring her here tonight. Shit, we had the whole thing set up for you."

Izana's eyes snapped up. In a blink, he lunged, fist knotting into Ran's collar, yanking him forward so hard the bottle in Ran's hand spilled across the floor.

"What the fuck are you talking about? You met her without me? What the fuck did you say?"

Ran just grinned wider, like he lived for moments like this.

Kakucho groaned, rubbing his temples. "Relax, Izana. Nobody's trying to steal her. We ran into her outside school, that's it. Thought maybe if she came around, it'd... I don't know, make you stop acting like a fucking robot. You like her. She likes you. How long you gonna play stupid?"

Izana's jaw clenched, denial already burning on his tongue—

Then Ran ruined it. "Come on, boss. Don't tell me you didn't enjoy yourself. Hell, if you're not gonna make a move... Guess I'll just be the one to take her cherries."

The room stuttered into silence.

Rindou slapped his forehead. "The fuck is wrong with you, Ran—"

Shion gagged dramatically. "Jesus Christ, man."

Even Muto muttered, "That's fucked."

But Izana didn't say a word. He moved. His fist cracked across Ran's jaw, the sound sharp and violent. Ran went tumbling sideways, crashing into the table, bottles shattering across the floor. Before anyone could react, Izana was on him, fists raining down with brutal precision. Each hit landed heavier than the last, teeth and blood spraying.

"You think you can talk about her like that?!" Izana's voice was raw, nearly unrecognizable. "Say her fucking name with your filthy mouth again, I'll rip your tongue out and shove it down your throat!"

Ran was laughing even as blood smeared his lips, the kind of unhinged laugh that made everyone else uncomfortable. "See? You can't stand it. Can't even picture her with anyone else. And you're still—hah—denying it."

Kakucho finally stepped in, grabbing Izana's shoulders and yanking him back with brute force. "Enough!" His voice snapped like a whip. "You'll kill him, Izana. And he's not worth it."

Izana jerked against Kakucho's hold, chest heaving, knuckles slick with blood. Ran just lay there on the floor, grinning like a devil with blood dripping from his teeth.

"Creepy bastard," Shion muttered, looking disgusted.

Rindou grabbed a towel, tossing it at his brother. "You're such a fucking idiot, Ran."

For once, Ran stayed quiet, just grinning through the blood.

Izana finally tore away, snatched a fresh bottle, and downed half of it in one go. When he spoke, his voice was low, guttural."...I had the best day today. I almost hugged her. But then her dad showed up. So I ran. And ended up here."

The room was thick with smoke and booze, shards of glass still glittering on the floor from when Izana smashed Ran. He sat back down, bottle in hand, staring dead into nothing. His eyes were flat, his face blank — but his voice was low, guttural, each word dragging like it hurt to spit out.

"...She's the only woman who's ever treated me like I was worth a damn."

The chatter died. Even Ran, still bleeding on the floor, finally shut the fuck up.

Izana tilted the bottle, watching the liquor swirl. "Every woman I've ever known... it's been a disaster. My so-called 'family,' all the shit with the orphanage, the ones that used me, the ones I fucked over before they could do it to me. Every single one ended bad. I don't... I don't know how to do normal. And Y/N—" he swallowed hard, eyes narrowing. "If I stay close to her, I'll drag her straight into this shit. The blood, the fights, the cops, the enemies. That's all I got to offer. She deserves better than me."

The silence stretched. Then Mochizuki barked a laugh, mean and sharp. "Fuckin' hell, boss. You finally sound human. I almost thought you were gonna cry. Cute."

"Shut the fuck up," Kakucho snapped, his tone cutting sharper than a knife. He leaned forward, staring Izana down. "You really think she gives a shit about 'better'? If she wanted safe, she wouldn't even look twice at you. She knows what you are. And she's still here."

Shion kicked back in his chair, lighting a cigarette. "He's right. Chicks dig the fucked-up ones anyway. Safe is boring. Nobody writes songs about the guy working nine-to-five at a gas station. They write 'em about the dangerous asshole who'll fight the world for her."

Rindou smirked, tapping ash into an empty bottle. "Besides, Izana, you act like you're doing her a favor by staying away. You're not. You're just being a coward. You want her? Fucking take her."

Ran groaned from the floor, wiping blood from his mouth. He grinned through the mess, voice low and mocking. "You nearly killed me over her, Izana. Don't talk about 'deserves better' when your fists are telling everyone the truth."

Izana's glare snapped toward him, but Kakucho cut in before he could explode again. His voice was calm, steady, the same voice Izana had grown up hearing when the world turned ugly.

"You think you'll ruin her life? Maybe you will. But running away will ruin her worse. That girl sees something in you nobody else does. Don't spit on it."

For the first time that night, Izana looked shaken — not angry, not cold, but exposed. His fingers clenched around the bottle until his knuckles turned white.

"...I don't know if I can be what she wants," he muttered, almost too low to hear.

Kakucho leaned back, his expression unreadable. "Then stop thinking about what she wants. Ask yourself what you want. And if it's her, then fight for it. Otherwise, stop wasting everyone's time."

Finally, Rindou broke it. He leaned back, taking a drag from his smoke, exhaling slow.

"Alright. Enough moping. If you're serious about her, then we figure out how the fuck you're gonna make a move."

Izana shot him a glare. "I'm not doing flowers and chocolate bullshit. That's not me."

"Yeah, no shit," Shion snorted, blowing smoke toward the ceiling. "If you showed up at her door with roses, she'd think you murdered someone and robbed a florist on the way."

Ran laughed, blood still staining his teeth. "Better than the usual Izana approach — staring at her like a psycho until she either melts or runs for her life."

"Shut the fuck up before I finish the job," Izana muttered, but there was less heat this time.

Mochizuki leaned forward, grin sharp. "Easy fix. Take her on a ride. Night streets, no destination. Girls eat that shit up — wind in their hair, neon lights, dangerous man on the bike. If she clings tighter, you know she's yours."

"Sounds like you're describing porn, not a date," Rindou said flatly.

"Eh, porn works," Shion shrugged.

Muto finally spoke, voice low and steady from the corner. "Keep it simple. No games. You don't need flowers, you don't need gifts. You just tell her straight: 'I want you with me.'" He took a swig from his bottle, unbothered. "If she says yes, she's in. If she says no, you move the fuck on."

Everyone turned to look at him, surprised.

"...That's it?" Shion asked.

Muto shrugged. "Works better than all your dumb shit."

Kakucho leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes locked on Izana. His voice was softer, but it carried more weight than all the noise around them.

"He's right. You don't have to be anything you're not. You're Izana. That's already enough. She doesn't want perfect. She wants you. Just... don't run next time."

Izana sat there, expression unreadable. The gang watched him, waiting for him to snap, or curse, or deflect. But he didn't.

He just muttered, barely audible, "I don't know how to do it."

Kakucho gave him a faint, almost brotherly smile. "Then let us teach you. Hell, Tenjiku's never been good at romance, but between the six of us, maybe we can scrape together half a functioning human."

That finally broke the tension. Shion snorted beer out his nose. Ran cackled even while clutching his ribs. Rindou just shook his head, smirking.

Izana didn't laugh — but the corners of his mouth twitched, almost like he wanted to. Almost.

For once, the weight in the room felt lighter. And for the first time, Izana wasn't just thinking about running — he was thinking about trying.

Next part

[neurodivergentminor]

𝓚𝓲𝓷𝓰'𝓼 𝓓𝓪𝔂

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 3

Finally, the day came — Izana's birthday. He leaned against the aquarium entrance, arms crossed, waiting for his gang. Calm, unshakable, like he owned the place. Then you arrived.

You always dressed well, but today... there was something about the way your outfit caught the light, the subtle confidence in your stride. Izana noticed, of course, though his expression remained unreadable.

"Oh. Nice to see you again, Y/N," he said, voice flat, eyes flicking to you anyway. "Did my mans invite you too?"

You nodded, smiling. "Yeah... they said we'd all hang out today. Thought it'd be nice if I joined."

He looked away for a moment, muttering under his breath, "They can't even show up on time..." Then, almost too smoothly, he faced you again.

His flip phone buzzed. Kakucho. A message: "The others can't come. Got work to do."

Izana rolled his eyes, but for you, he softened slightly, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Looks like it's just us. Let's go."

"Sure," you said, matching his smile.

Inside the aquarium, the blue glow from the tanks reflected in your eyes, softening the harsh edges of the world outside. You walked side by side, shoulders brushing occasionally, each movement comfortable, like a rhythm you had both fallen into without trying. The low hum of water filters and distant chatter of other visitors gave the moment an almost private feel, even though the hall was open.

You paused in front of a tank full of neon tetras, the tiny fish darting back and forth with effortless coordination. "Look at them," you said, leaning a little closer to the glass. "Like a tiny army. Synchronized, disciplined... kind of like your gang, huh?"

Izana snorted, one brow raised. "Except my gang doesn't swim in circles all day and look pretty for tourists," he replied, voice flat but carrying that familiar undertone that made you grin.

"Oh, come on," you teased, nudging him lightly with your elbow. "Maybe you could learn something from them. Coordination. Teamwork."

He scowled, turning his gaze toward the tank as if the fish had personally insulted him. "From fish?" he muttered. "I lead men, Y/N. Not guppies."

You laughed, a soft, warm sound that echoed slightly in the hall. "Men who'd probably scream if a jellyfish touched them," you shot back.

For a moment, he didn't respond, just let his eyes linger on yours, and you caught the brief smirk that flickered across his lips before he quickly masked it with his usual indifferent expression.

Hours later, you found yourselves in a small café, the scent of coffee and baked goods wrapping around you like a familiar blanket. The chatter of other patrons faded into the background as you shared shortcake and sipped bitter coffee. You couldn't help but gush about your family's ramen shop.

"Honestly, Izana, it blows this fancy place out of the water. Real broth, real noodles... none of this sugar-and-cream nonsense," you said, biting into your slice of cake and smiling around the sweet cream.

He leaned back casually in his chair, arms crossed. "You never change. Always the same fire, huh?"

"Yep," you replied, brushing a crumb off your sleeve. "And someone has to keep life interesting for you."

He gave a low hum of acknowledgment, leaning closer so his elbow brushed yours. "You really like poking at me, huh?"

"I like telling the truth," you said sweetly, letting your tone carry both teasing and warmth. "Someone has to keep you from thinking you're untouchable."

"Untouchable?" he repeated, mock-offended. "You really have a way with words, don't you?"

You smirked. "I've been practicing on you for years."

He rolled his eyes but didn't hide the slight twitch of amusement in his lips. "You're impossible."

"And you love it," you said softly, reaching across the table to brush a strand of hair from his forehead.

He froze for a second, then quickly cleared his throat, trying to look unaffected. "Don't get sentimental on me, Y/N," he muttered, voice low but a little rough around the edges.

It was almost evening as you stepped out of the café, the streetlights flickering on one by one. The air was cool, carrying the faint scent of rain on asphalt. You walked side by side, hands brushing now and then—until somehow your fingers tangled, and your hands locked together. Both of you froze instantly, cheeks flushing red.

Izana cleared his throat, looking anywhere but at you. "Uh... don't... don't read into it," he muttered, voice low but tense.

Your heart hammered in your chest. "...I wasn't... I mean... it's fine if you—if you like guys or whatever," you stammered, trying to sound casual but failing spectacularly.

He gave a sharp blink, then let out a humorless snort. "I don't care about that stuff. I'm not the type to waste time on... loser things." His thumb brushed yours awkwardly. "...But, uh... if you want to know, I like girls who..." He trailed off, jaw tight, clearly struggling to finish the sentence.

"Who...?" you asked softly, daring him to look at you.

"Don't—don't make me say it out loud," he muttered, glancing at your hand then quickly away. "...You're... different. Not like anyone else. That... scares me a little."

You couldn't help the teasing lilt in your voice, even though your heart was racing. "Scares you? Me? I thought I was just annoying enough to make you roll your eyes at least."

He snorted again, trying to hide a smile. "You're... too nice. Too bright. Makes me... remember things I don't want to think about." His fingers flexed against yours, uncertain, but he didn't pull away.

"Well," you said, cheeks still hot, "if I make you think about the past, I can at least make the present... interesting?"

"Don't try to make me sound soft," he muttered, his eyes darting to yours for a fleeting second. "It's... not that easy."

You grinned, nudging him gently with your shoulder. "Maybe not. But it's okay... I don't need easy. Just honest."

For a long moment, neither of you said anything. Your fingers stayed intertwined, and the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife—but beneath it was something warmer, something neither of you had admitted yet.

Finally, he muttered, "...I guess this... isn't terrible."

"Not terrible?" you teased, laughing softly. "That's the best you've got?"

He scowled, but there was a twitch of a smile at the corner of his lips. "...Shut up."

You squeezed his hand gently. "...Never."

You finally reached your place. Izana followed you up, his face unreadable as always — but you could feel it. That heaviness clinging to him. That silent sadness he'd never admit out loud.

Before stepping in, you grabbed him, pulling him into a hug. Izana froze, eyes wide like you'd just pulled a knife on him. For a moment, he looked almost offended... until his body betrayed him. His hands lifted hesitantly, then slid around your waist, slow and uncertain, like he wasn't sure if he deserved to hold you.

It could've been something. You could've said something.

But then—

"Y/N, what the fuck is this shit? Who the hell is this guy?"

Your dad's voice ripped through the air like glass shattering. You turned, stomach dropping. The old bastard was standing in the doorway, glaring like he'd caught you setting fire to the house.

"Dad, it's not—"

Before you could explain, Izana shoved you back, hard enough that you stumbled. He didn't say a single word. He just bolted, disappearing down the street with that same cold mask, leaving nothing behind but the sting in your chest.

Your heart cracked, but your father's voice drowned it out, barking curses you barely registered.

"The fuck's wrong with you, Y/N? Bringing some punk-ass thug to my house? You tryin' to get yourself killed running around with pieces of shit like that?"

You barely heard him. Your eyes were locked on the street, where Izana had vanished.

Next part

[neurodivergentminor]

𝓚𝓲𝓷𝓰'𝓼 𝓓𝓪𝔂

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 2

"So... he's not a pedo," Mochi muttered, arms crossed and visibly relieved.

Kakucho exhaled beside him. "Thank fuck. I was two seconds from throwing myself into traffic if he turned out to be into schoolgirls."

Ran, who had been leaning against the wall, cracked one eye open, bored. "You guys are pathetic. I'm going home. Wake me up when they're married." He yawned and walked off without a second glance.

Back at the group,

 Mochi rubbed his temples. "Okay, idiots. Let's just admit it: they're both hopeless. That girl probably loses brain cells when he smiles at her. And Izana? That man wouldn't notice a confession if it punched him in the throat."

"True," Kakucho added. "Izana's brain short-circuits the moment anything emotional happens. He doesn't know what dating is,"

 Muto muttered. "He probably thinks it's a tax term."

Rindou tapped the table with his spoon. "Sooo. We sending him and the girl on a date or what?"

The  next day the bell rang, and the last day of school finally ended. You stepped out of the building into the late spring air, your friend at your side, when you spotted them leaning against the fence like they owned the place.

your friend look at them and said "Shit... it's them. Let's just go—"

You shook her off and squared your shoulders, walking right toward the cluster of Tenjiku guys.

"What the hell are you doing here?" you demanded. "Trying to scare everyone? Or are you just that bored?"

Ran Haitani smirked lazily, his hands in his pockets. "Shh, princess, relax. We're not here to freak you out... well, not you, anyway." He tilted his head. "We just wanna know... do you like Izana?"

Your face heated instantly, but you forced yourself to stand firm. "No. Why would I—"

Rindou stepped forward, his voice flat and impatient. "Just say yes or no, we don't got all day."

More of their crew closed in, the faint stink of cigarettes and gasoline hanging in the air. The stares were heavy, predatory, and it wasn't exactly comfortable being surrounded. You exhaled sharply. "...Fine. I might like him a little. But don't tell him. I'm not even sure what he'd think, and " you hesitated, Izana can be... intense. I don't wanna screw up our friendship."

A tall guy you didn't recognize—Mochi—grinned with too many teeth. "Oh, Izana's not just a little scary. He's scary as fuck. Tenjiku ain't some schoolyard club, sweetheart. Once we crush every other gang in Tokyo, we're taking the whole damn country. Japan's ours."

"Shut the fuck up." Kakucho's palm cracked against the back of Mochi's head. "Stop trying to give her nightmares, idiot. She's his friend."

Kakucho turned to you, and for a second, you froze. He was taller than Izana, broader too—muscle under that white jacket—and his calm eyes made it hard to read him. You remembered Izana telling you once that Kakucho looked older than he was because life had chewed him up early.

"Onee-san," Kakucho said quietly, "don't listen to these bastards. We all got our reasons for being in this mess. Being in a gang doesn't mean we're pure evil... just that we're fucked up in different ways." His voice softened. "Izana can be unpredictable, yeah. But if he loves you... he'll hide it. He'll act like he doesn't give a damn, but he'll protect you in ways you won't even notice. Maybe that's why he's kept his distance."

He gave you the faintest smile, then walked away. Behind him, the rest of Tenjiku started shoving each other and throwing crude jokes around.

Something in your chest twisted—part nerves, part curiosity. You grabbed the sleeve of one of the guys before he could leave. "...Tell him I'll come out with you guys next time. I mean... if it's something worth showing up for."

He smirked. "Perfect. It's his birthday."

The whole crew was feeling good — one job was outta the way, and for once it looked like they could chill. Or at least that's what they thought. Now came the real pain in the ass: convincing Izana to leave his damn perch and actually hang out.

They knew where to find him. He always holed up on top of some random building like a stray cat with trust issues. By the time they reached the spot, the sun was hanging low, painting the city in that grimy orange glow that made every rooftop look like the set of some cheap crime flick.

Shion, being the idiot he is, decided to go first.

"Yo, Izana!" he yelled up, grinning like he wasn't about to get his head bitten off. "Let's go on a date !"

Izana turned slowly, cigarette between his fingers, eyes cold. "...The fuck did you just say to me, Shion?" His voice was flat, but there was that dangerous edge under it.

Shion raised both hands. "Relax, man! Just messin'—"

"Messing with me gets people tossed off roofs," Izana cut in, flicking ash over the edge. "You volunteering?"

Before Shion could dig himself deeper, Kakucho stepped forward, hands in his pockets. His voice was calm, but there was that weight to it — the kind you only get when you've known a guy since you were both stealing bread from the same orphanage kitchen.

"C'mon, Izana," Kakucho said, "we're all heading to the aquarium. Nothing serious. Just us, killing a few hours."

For a second, Izana just stared at him.Then he sighed, crushed his cigarette under his boot, and stood. "Fine. I've got nothing better to do. But if I get bored, I'm feeding one of you to the sharks."

Shion muttered under his breath, "Bet the sharks choke on your attitude."

Izana's eyes snapped to him instantly.

"What was that?"

Shion froze. "...Said I'm gonna wear my shark shirt."

Kakucho just shook his head, smirking. "Let's go before he changes his mind."

Next part

[neurodivergentminor]

𝓚𝓲𝓷𝓰'𝓼 𝓓𝓪𝔂

Writer note: Well, this fanfic is supposed to be a shortfic, but I still stretched it cause why not, it's fun. Although it's based more on the pre-Toman vs Tenjiku arc, it's a bit more focused on Tenjiku members and more OOC.

Order to read: Masterlist ?!

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 1

August 30th. "King's Day," they called it.

Not that Izana ever gave a shit about birthdays. The man barely remembered his own name half the time, let alone what day he clawed his way into the world. He never talked about it nor asked for anything, didn't want a party, didn't want gifts. And if anyone did mention it to his face, he'd probably just blink once and say something like "Don't waste my time."

But the rest of Tenjiku? Specifically, the Four Heavenly Kings?

They remembered.

Well—Kakucho did. The others mostly followed his lead because no one in their right mind wanted to piss off either of those two.

Kakucho, who'd been there since the beginning—back when Izana was just a pale, sharp-eyed kid in the corner of a dirty, forgotten orphanage, flipping through beat-up books about fish like they were sacred texts. He'd been obsessed with aquariums. Owned a little beta fish once. Named it something stupid like "Emperor" and would sit by its tank for hours, reading up on tank conditions and fish behavior like he was prepping for a marine biology degree instead of gang warfare.

It had shocked the hell out of everyone. Their cold, violent, untouchable King... had a soft spot for fucking fish.

So when the date crept up on the calendar, Kakucho brought it up.

"We doing anything for him?" he asked one night, casually, like he wasn't sure if anyone else gave a fuck.

Rindou raised an eyebrow, halfway through a smoke. "For Izana? What, you wanna throw him a party with a fish-shaped cake?"

Shion nearly choked on his beer. "Yo, imagine us all rolling up to the goddamn aquarium like some kindergarten field trip. Next thing you know Izana's crying in front of a tank of stingrays."

"Bro," Rindou wheezed, "he'd probably start naming them after his enemies and planning who he's gonna drown first."

They both cracked up.

Until Ran smacked them. Hard. With his fucking bōtan. No warning. "Shut the fuck up."

Rindou and Shion winced in unison, rubbing the back of their heads like kicked dogs.

"Ow! What the hell, man?"

"Y'all dumbasses think this is a joke?" Ran growled, dragging on his cigarette. "You ever seen Izana get nostalgic? He'll cry blood before a tear."

Kakucho just shrugged, arms crossed, gaze unreadable. "Still. He liked that place. Always said the water made everything quiet. Peaceful."

"Doesn't mean we're buying him a fish," Muto chimed in from the corner, flipping through his phone. "Motherfucker barely even stays home. That fish'll be floating belly-up in two days."

"Izana'd kill us all if we gave him a pet just to watch it die," Kakucho muttered. "Not worth the bloodstains."

Mochi leaned back, cracking his knuckles. "We could still take him there. No announcement. Just roll up. Casual. Let him walk around."

"Like a gang field trip?" Shion grinned again.

Rindou snorted. "Yeah, we show up in leather jackets and gold chains next to some eight-year-old's birthday party. Real subtle."

"Shut it," Ran said again, tone like steel. "We go quiet. No fuckin' clowning. And if any of you dipshits embarrass him, I'm feeding you to the fucking eels."

But Kakucho just shook his head.

"No fish. He won't take care of it."

Muto leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a cigarette dangling from his lips. "So what, we just give up? Hell, maybe we stalk him. Might pick up something useful—music, books, food, I don't fucking know."

There was a pause. Then a few slow, deliberate nods.

Ran cracked his knuckles. "You wanna spy on the King?"

"Shit, why not?" Rindou grinned. "Worst case, we catch him jerking off in the bath to The Little Mermaid or something."

Shion howled. "Bro, if he's into mermaids I'm not kink-shaming. Respect."

Ran didn't say a word—just smacked them both with the bōtan again. Loud THWACK, no remorse.

"Idiots."

And just like that, Operation: Stalk Izana 

The next morning.

Izana's routine unfolded exactly like Kakucho expected. He woke late, like a spoiled royal who knew the world waited for him. Blasted Bohemian Rhapsody at full volume while brushing his hair in front of the mirror. Fed his betta fish, cleaned the tank with quiet, deliberate hands. Not rushed. Not careless. Just... weirdly gentle.

"Bro, he brushes his hair more than any girl I've dated," Rindou muttered through a cracked earpiece as he watched from a nearby rooftop with binoculars. "He's gonna turn into Freddie Mercury if we let this play out."

"Shut up," Ran barked over the line.

Izana eventually dressed in his usual black coat and headed out, guitar slung over one shoulder. They followed from a distance—Ran and Mochi in a car, Muto and Shion pretending to be loitering delinquents, Rindou constantly snickering through comms, and Kakucho a street behind, watching with the sharp eyes of someone who'd been doing this his whole life.

Nothing interesting happened. Izana just... existed. Calm. Alone. Quiet.

Muto grunted. "This is boring. He's boring."

"He's meticulous," Kakucho corrected. "Always has been."

They followed discreetly. Or at least they tried. Between Ran's permanently pissed-off scowl, Rindou's loud-ass sneakers, Shion giggling like a child, and Mochi walking like he was packing a goddamn shotgun, they weren't exactly subtle.

And yet, Izana never noticed.

He strolled into some hole-in-the-wall ramen shop, nothing fancy. Just one of those old joints with yellowed walls, buzzing lights, and cracked leather booths that smelled like grease, soy, and smoke.

Even Kakucho didn't know Izana came here.

"Since when the fuck does he eat here?" Muto muttered, scowling. "Isn't this place next to a brothel?"

"Yo, maybe he is into mermaids," Rindou whispered. " Who knows, maybe he is into hooker mermaids."

Ran just shook his head. "Shut up and act natural."

They tried to blend in, pulling their jackets up, sliding into a booth a few tables away—far enough to avoid suspicion, close enough to eavesdrop. Still, no one kicked them out. Maybe they looked too dangerous.

Izana, meanwhile, sat at the counter like he'd lived there his whole life. He didn't say much. Just slurped his ramen, drank tea, tuned and cleaned the neck of his guitar with a focus so sharp it was unsettling. and they b of watching the King do absolutely nothing except eat, sip, and pick at his strings like a perfectionist psychopath. Just then, a girl entered who was wearing a School uniform. Short skirt, loose socks, sailor collar.  She didn't even hesitate, just walked straight to Izana's booth and slid in beside him like she owned the space.

The whole table froze mid-breath.

"...The fuck," Shion muttered.

"Does anyone know her?" Mochi asked, eyes flicking between them.

Silence. Even Kakucho didn't answer—just kept watching, expression unreadable.

"She's gotta be in high school," Rindou said, leaning closer.

"Yeah," Ran muttered, "and Izana's... well... Izana."

Shion: "Scandalous."

Kakucho :  "Drop it."

Muto: "If he is... I'll break his ribs myself."

Mochi:  "Watch your fucking mouths. Could be his sister or some shit."

"Since when does Izana have a sister?" Shion whispered. "Since when does Izana have anyone?"

They all leaned in subtly—not subtle at all, really, just a pack of grown-ass gangsters pretending they weren't spying like creeps in the world's shadiest ramen shop.

Izana didn't flinch. Didn't act surprised. The girl sat beside him like she'd done it a hundred times, cracked open a strawberry milk carton like a kid on lunch break, and started talking softly.

Kakucho's jaw tightened.

He didn't hear the words, but he saw the shift in Izana—barely there, but real. The slight tilt of his head. The quiet smirk. The way his eyes softened for just a second.

It was the most human they'd seen him all month.

And it scared the shit out of all of them.

Just then, one of the waitresses finally stormed over to their table, arms crossed, face red with irritation.

"If you're not ordering anything, get the hell out!" she snapped, loud enough for the entire shop to turn and look. "We've got paying customers waiting! This ain't a damn playground!"

Everyone at the table froze like they'd been caught jerking off in a church.

Ran stared at her, stunned. Mochi looked ready to murder. Muto was about to say something when—

Shion lost his shit. "The fuck you mean 'playground'?! We're deciding what to eat, not selling crack in the corner!"

"You've been sitting here for two hours whispering like drug dealers!" the waitress snapped back.

That was it. The room exploded with murmurs. Every head turned. Even the old lady squinted toward their booth, suddenly suspicious. Izana, hearing the commotion, finally strolled over. At first, he just stared at them blankly, trying to place the ridiculous sight in front of him—then he burst out laughing so hard his shoulders shook. "The fuck—" His lips curled and he started laughing, a short burst that turned into a proper wheeze. "You look like a bunch of fucking clowns."

The cheap party hats, crooked sunglasses, dollar-store wigs, yeah, they looked ridiculous. You glanced at Izana, then at the crew, and broke into your own laugh.

"Oh my god... these are your friends?"

Izana shook his head, still grinning. "Friends? Nah. I don't have friends. These idiots are my gang members. They're supposed to be out causing trouble, not... whatever the fuck this is."

The waitress who'd shouted at them turned out to be your sister. Seeing her, both you and she quickly calmed things down, assuring Izana it was fine—but he still couldn't shake the feeling that he'd stirred up chaos in the shop and caused trouble for you and your family.

Still, Izana gave a small nod toward her. "Sorry. Shouldn't've let these fuckers in here."

You waved him down. "It's fine. Sit. Eat before it gets cold."

Everyone shuffled and got settled at the table.  It was quiet for a moment until Kakucho finally spoke, his voice slow and deliberate. "I just... can't get my head around it," he said, eyes fixed on Izana. "The guy I grew up with—the one I'd follow into a fight without thinking—showing up here with... a schoolgirl?"

Izana's head snapped toward him. "The fuck did you just—?" He coughed mid-sip, smacking his chest.

Shion:. "Ohhh, so it's true. Boss has a thing for uniforms."

Rindou: "Guess all that 'I'm untouchable' talk doesn't mean shit when she's feeding you snacks."

Izana: "Keep running your mouths and I'll make sure you're both eating through straws for the next month."

Kakucho:  "I'm just saying... I've seen you tear a guy apart for looking at you wrong. And now you're letting her—" he nodded toward you, "—call you cute in public. You've changed, man."

Izana: Seriously, you guys followed me and now accusing me of random stuff 

 Muto: "You've been weird lately, and now you're out here having lunch dates with high school girls?"

Izana Tch, she is not even a date, she is just my classmate 

There was a long silence.

Kakucho blinked. "From... when?"

"Back then," Izana said simply. "Before I dropped out. She stayed in school."

You nudged him ".I asked you for help because my school is hosting a music competition and I want a guitarist to teach. Just then, I remember him as I often saw him with a guitar, playing something."

"I'm not teaching," Izana cut in. "I'm just showing her some chords. That's it."

"Man, you've been sitting here with her every other day," Rindou muttered. "Even gettin' free food from the old lady like a spoiled grandson. You sure you're not soft for her?"

Izana looked at him blankly. "I come here because the food's good."

Shion leaned back and smirked. "He's either lying or has the emotional intelligence of a dried sock."

"Both," Muto said.

Kakucho's eyes stayed on you. He noticed the way you looked at Izana when you thought no one was watching—too soft to be casual. Too familiar. And Izana, for all his deadpan denial, didn't lean away when you brushed against him. He didn't flinch when you laughed or when you teased him about his guitar playing. If anything, he looked more relaxed here than Kakucho had seen him in months.

He likes her. He just doesn't know it.

"So," Mochi said after a moment, pointing his chopsticks toward you. "You crushing on our boss or what?"

You blinked, eyes wide. "What?! No—I mean, I—what kind of question is that?!"

Ran snorted. "She's blushing."

"Shut up," you hissed, slamming your chopsticks on the table.

Izana stared at his bowl, as if this conversation wasn't happening. "Stop talking."

"You like her too," Shion teased, leaning close.

Izana looked up slowly. "Do you want to eat through a straw for the next month?"

Shion went quiet.

But you laughed, really laughed this time, and somehow that broke the tension, making it easier to breathe again. The waitress dropped off steaming bowls with a grumble under her breath, but soon enough, everyone was ordering and eating like half the shop hadn’t just watched them fall apart a moment ago.

By the end, they were crammed around one long table, steam curling up from ramen bowls, slurping noodles, and pretending this wasn’t one of the most wholesome moments Tenjiku had ever had.

Even if their cold king had no idea what to do with someone who liked him.

Even if, maybe, he liked her back.

[neurodivergentminor]

King's day

This fanfic is so random lol personally I wanted to write short fic however I decided to make it part although I'm not sure when I gonna upload chapter but for now this fanfic especially made for izana one of my favorite character on tokyo revengers. Although this is bit pre tenjiku vs toman fight whole story is non canon bit ooc. However I hope you all enjoy this

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 1

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 2

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 3

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 4

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 5

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 6

(Ending not sure ?)

[neurodivergentminor]

𝔐𝔞𝔯𝔲𝔡𝔢 𝔬𝔥𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔰𝔞𝔪𝔞 𝔪𝔦𝔱𝔞𝔦!

Warning: I guess misunderstanding and soft smut

Order to read: 𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊, 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 1, 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 2, 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 3,𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 4,𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 5, 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 6, 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 7, 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 8, 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 9, ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯10,𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 11,𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 12,𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 13,𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 14,𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 15

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 16

You didn’t even know where you were running. The lights in Roppongi just smeared together neon, headlights, streetlamps, everything spinning through the tears in your eyes. Your heels kept smacking against the pavement, too fast, too loud, but you couldn’t stop.

Your chest hurts. Your throat felt like it was closing up. It wasn’t the running—it was all of it. Everything you’d been holding in finally broke.

You’d been telling yourself for weeks that Shinichiro just needed some time. That he was stressed. That maybe he just didn’t know how to talk about it—he never really did. You kept clinging to the idea that he’d come back once he figured it out. That he still loved you, even if he couldn’t show it.

But seeing him like that—drunk, unsteady, with some girl pawing at him like he was just another lonely asshole in a nightclub—that was your answer and it hurt more than anything ever had. You ducked into an alley behind a 24-hour soba joint and finally collapsed against the wall, pressing your hand over your mouth to muffle the sob that tore out of you. It was ugly. Loud. Raw. But you didn't care anymore.

You weren't crying for him. You were crying for you. For being stupid enough to wait. To believe. To hope.

Ten minutes passed before Yuna found you.

She didn't say a word at first. Just crouched down next to you, lit a cigarette with shaky fingers, and handed you her jacket you pulled it around your shoulders, still trembling.  "I look so fucking pathetic," you muttered, your voice barely holding itself together.

" No, " Yuna said, exhaling smoke.  "You look like someone who loved a man who couldn't figure out how to love you back properly."

You blinked fast, biting your tongue, but the tears kept falling.

"I slapped him,"  you whispered.

"Good. He deserved it,"  she said simply.

You nodded, eyes glassy, throat dry.  "I really thought he'd come back. Eventually. I thought I just had to wait."

Yuna reached over, brushing your hair behind your ear. " You waited long enough. It's his turn now."

You didn't answer. You just stared at the sidewalk,

"Shit," he muttered, breath shaking. He shoved Wakasa's hand off his shoulder and took off, half running, half stumbling into the crowd. He didn't care who saw him. Didn't care that his hair was a mess.

"(Name) !" he shouted "(Name), wait!"

He didn't even know where to go until he remembered the back alley near the soba joint you both often to sneak into after late nights. The place you once called your "escape corner." And when he turned the corner, there you were. Sitting on a low concrete step, Yuna's jacket draped over your shoulders, your makeup smudged, eyes puffy from crying.

He froze.

You looked up, and for a second, it was just quiet. His chest ached just seeing you like that.

"...I shouldn't have come,"   he said hoarsely, guilt choking his voice.   "But I couldn't not come."   You didn't say anything. Just looked at him, guarded but soft, like part of you wanted to scream and the other part... wanted to believe in him again.

"I didn't fuck her,"  he said quietly.  "Didn't even touch her. I swear. But that doesn't change the fact that I let her cling to me. That I sat there and let you think I moved on."

You sniffled. " So you didn't move on? You just ghosted me for weeks because... why, Shin? You were tired of me?"

" No !" he said quickly, shaking his head.  "God, no. I just... I didn't know how to handle things. You were growing, planning your future, your professorial career, and your lectures, and everything. I felt stuck. Like I was holding you back."

"That's not your decision to make,"  you shot back, finally letting the words spill out. "I loved you, Shin. Even when you were at your lowest. I didn't need you to impress me—I just needed you to show up."

He looked down, ashamed.

"I thought I'd only drag you down, "   he said.  " I didn't wanna become that guy who gets left behind. So I pulled away first. I didn't realize it was just another way of hurting you."

You were quiet for a long beat.

"Do you still love me?"

His head snapped up. "Of course I do. Every fucking day."

Your voice trembled.  "Then why does it feel like we can't hold on to each other anymore?"

Shinichiro swallowed hard.  "Because we never talked about how. We never made a plan past just being together. I think... maybe we thought love was enough to carry us."

"And it's not?"

He exhaled.  "It is. But not if we don't do the work. Not if we don't learn how to grow with each other instead of apart."

You looked at him, vulnerable, but grounded.  "So what now? We just cry, say sorry, and pretend it didn't almost break us?"

" No ," he said gently.  "We cry, say sorry, and rebuild. Slowly. For real this time."

He took your hand, hesitantly. You let him.

"We figure out how to not get bored. We go on dates. Even stupid ones. We tell each other when shit's not working. We don't hide behind silence or clubs or fake busy-ness."

You gave a small, tearful laugh. " You sound like you're proposing a relationship contract."

"Damn right, " he said, smiling weakly. " Clause one: no more shutting down. Clause two: no more hostess clubs. Clause three ..." He trailed off, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. " We stop being afraid of being vulnerable. Even if it means crying in alleys at 2 a.m."

You nodded slowly, chest finally easing for the first time in weeks.

"...Clause four,"  you whispered, squeezing his hand,  "we remind each other why we chose each other in the first place."

His voice cracked. " Because you're the only person who ever made me want to try harder. For myself. For a future."

"And you're the only one I ever wanted to build that future with."

You leaned forward, and he met you halfway.

A few weeks had passed since things finally calmed down between you and Shinichiro; no more cold silences, no more awkward tension in the air. It wasn't just back to normal... it was better. Softer. Closer. Like you both finally stopped pretending things were fine and actually made them fine.

And tonight felt like the right time. The ring had been sitting at the bottom of your drawer for months now—simple, silver, small enough to be ignored by strangers but meaningful enough to say:  I'm not going anywhere.

You had planned to give it to him earlier, before everything got messy, but the timing never felt right. Until now.

So when you heard that familiar knock on your door—two light taps, then one solid one—you already knew it was him. You opened the door and saw him there, casually handsome, hair still damp from a quick shower, carrying takeout from your favorite restaurant like it was some damn peace offering.

" Guess who walked all the way to Koenji just so you could eat overpriced fried tofu in your pajamas," he said, holding up the bag.

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. "I hope you suffered the whole walk."

"I did," he said, stepping in. "Also dropped your dessert once, but I picked it up real quick. It's fine."

"Shin-kun!" You swatted his chest, and he grinned that grin and leaned down to kiss you softly.

Dinner was casual and sweet, like old times. You both sat cross-legged on the floor, sharing food and stealing bites from each other's plates. He told you about some idiot who tried to mod his bike with zip ties and how Takeomi came by the shop only to lecture him for forty-five minutes about "discipline." You told him about a coworker who couldn't stop flirting with the new delivery guy from the supply department. There was laughter. Light teasing. Little touches his thumb, tracing circles into your thigh under the table, like it was second nature.

Later, the two of you were curled up on your bed, watching that same dumb movie you always put on when you didn't want to think too hard. It had become ritual by now—same lines, same moments where he'd quote along and kiss your temple without looking.

You shifted closer, fingers idly stroking the base of his neck. And then you kissed just behind his ear—slow and warm, lips lingering just long enough to make your intentions obvious.

He stiffened just a little, caught off guard. You felt the hitch in his breath before he turned his head.

"Oh?" he said, eyes narrowing. "We doing this now?"

You smirked. "Depends. You still got energy after walking all the way to Koenji?"

He scoffed and set the remote aside. "Sweetheart, I could've crawled here and still had enough left to ruin you."

"Talk big for someone who passed out mid-makeout last week."

"That was one time!" He crawled over you, pressing you into the mattress, arms caging you in as he hovered over your face. His voice dropped. "You trying to start something, or just teasing me?"

You didn't answer. Instead, you reached behind you, slipping your fingers under your pillow. He raised an eyebrow, gaze following your hand, expecting maybe a pair of handcuffs or something equally filthy from your shared nightstand stash.

But then you pulled out the small velvet box.

Shinichiro blinked, and the cocky grin slipped off his face just a little. "Wait... what's that?"

You opened the box with trembling fingers. Inside was the ring. The promise. The unspoken you're mine, and I want to keep building this with you, no matter how boring or fucked up life gets.

"I wanted to give this to you ages ago,"  you said, voice soft but steady.  "But with everything going on... it didn't feel like the right time. It does now."

He stared at it. No jokes. No sarcastic remarks. Just quiet awe. Like he was seeing you all over again for the first time.

"You're serious?"   he asked, his voice lower now. Raw.

You nodded.  "It's not about marriage or forever or any pressure. Just... us. Choosing this. Every day."

His fingers brushed yours as he took the ring. "Can I...?"

You nodded again, and he slipped it onto his finger—left hand, ring finger. No hesitation. His thumb traced over the cool metal like it meant something more than words ever could.

He looked back at you, eyes slightly glassy, but he tried to cover it with that crooked grin. "You just gave me a fuckin' ring while I was about to get in your skirts. That's so on brand for you."

You burst into laughter, hitting his chest as he chuckled with you.

Then, after a beat, he leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours.

"I'll wear it every damn day,"  he whispered. " Just like I'll keep showing up. For you. For us."

Your heart twisted in the best way.

" Good," you said. " Now shut up and kiss me."

And that's exactly what he did before slowly peeling your clothes off and showing you just how much that promise meant, over and over again. He kissed you slowly at first, like he was savoring the moment, the soft press of his lips against yours, the warmth of his hands as they cradled your face. There was no rush. Just heat building between shared breaths and quiet heartbeats.

"You're serious about that ring? "  he whispered, voice low and a little unsteady as his fingers brushed over your cheek.

You nodded, pulling him closer.  " Yeah. It's a promise. That I'm here. That I want to keep choosing... this choosing you. "

He looked at you for a moment like you'd said something sacred. Then he kissed you again deeper, needier. The way he touched you shifted, slower but firmer, like he wanted to memorize every inch of you all over again.

His hands slid under your waist. His lips followed over your collarbone, down your stomach, leaving a trail of heat with each kiss. There was reverence in his movements, but hunger too. Like he wanted to feel everything you'd just given him.

When he finally sank into you, he exhaled like he'd been holding his breath for weeks. You clung to him, legs wrapped around his waist, arms curled over his shoulders, grounding each other as the rhythm built between you.

"Still think this is a good idea? " he whispered, lips brushing your ear.

You smiled against his neck, breathless.  " Shin... shut up and stay."

He laughed softly, forehead pressed to yours. "Always."

 I'm still here. I'm not going anywhere.

You came with his name on your lips, and he followed soon after, pressing close as if letting go too soon might break the moment.

Afterward, he held you against his chest, your fingers idly playing with the silver ring now warm on his hand.

"I'll wear this every day,"   he murmured, brushing his thumb over your knuckles.  "And I'll mean it. Every damn time."

You smiled into his skin, feeling safe, full, and completely his.   "Good. Me too."

And in the quiet that followed, you both finally understood this wasn't just about fixing what was broken. It was about building something stronger.

[neurodivergentminor]

𝔐𝔞𝔯𝔲𝔡𝔢 𝔬𝔥𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔰𝔞𝔪𝔞 𝔪𝔦𝔱𝔞𝔦!

Warning: none explict

Order to read: 𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊, 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 1, 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 2, 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 3,𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 4,𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 5, 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 6, 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 7, 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 8, 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 9, ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯10,𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 11,𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 12,𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 13,𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 14

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 15

It had been nearly a month since Shinichiro was discharged from the hospital. The bruises on his ribs had faded. The bandages were gone. But some things don't heal with time alone. He returned to his little mechanic shop—same grease-stained rag tucked into the back of his jeans, same calloused hands wrapped around worn tools, same familiar scent of oil and metal. You went back to your classroom—blazers, grade books, chalk dust on your fingers, a red pen perpetually in your hand. And in the evenings, you'd open your textbooks, study late into the night under the yellow glow of your desk lamp, chasing that future you'd promised yourself when you first stepped into university halls.

The problem was... you weren't really sharing your lives anymore. Just coexisting in the leftover space between two very different dreams.

He was kind. Gentle, as always was but Shinichiro was the type who found joy in small things, finishing a repair job, playing with Mikey and Emma after school, hanging out with Takeomi and Benkei at that run-down arcade in Shibuya where the soda always tasted off. He didn't crave more. Not like you did. And slowly, that difference stopped being invisible.

You'd come home with aching shoulders and a splitting headache. He'd already be on the couch in sweatpants, one arm thrown over the backrest, a plastic bag of konbini snacks sitting between his legs and some low-budget variety show playing on TV.

"Hey," he'd say, smiling faintly. "Got your favorite—honey butter chips and melon pan."

You'd force a smile, toe off your shoes, and collapse beside him, legs tucked under your body. The room always smelled like engine oil and burnt rice. The air was quiet. Not peaceful. Just... silent. There were nights you didn't talk at all. Just munched on snacks like strangers who'd forgotten how to start a conversation. Other times, one of you would snap—over a misplaced cup, a late text, the tone of voice. Dumb things that didn't matter. But they piled up.

Like the time he forgot you had a mock lecture for your exam committee and went drinking with Takeomi. Or when you'd skipped dinner together for the third time in a row because you had grading to finish. Or when he looked at you one night and muttered under his breath, "Feels like you're always somewhere else."

And then there was the sex.

It wasn't bad. It never was. Shinichiro knew your body well—knew what made you gasp, what made you tremble, what made you dig your nails into his back and whisper his name like it still meant something sacred. But it wasn't love anymore. Not really. It was comfort. Habit. A poor attempt to bridge a growing distance.

But when it was over, and your thighs were still slick with him, your chest rising and falling in uneven waves... the silence returned.

Not warm. Not comfortable.

Just empty.

He rolled onto his side and pulled you close. His hand draped lazily over your stomach. You felt his breath on your neck.

"You've been distant," he said after a long pause.

You closed your eyes. "So have you."

"Do you think this is still working?" you asked. Voice quiet. Honest. Maybe too honest.

He didn't answer right away. "I don't know," he said finally. "Sometimes I think we're just... holding on because it's easier than letting go."

Your throat tightened as you  hated how right he sounded so you  sat up slowly, blanket falling from your shoulders, baring your skin to the cold air of the room. You reached for your shirt but didn't put it on. Just held it in your lap, staring down at it.

"I don't want an average life, Shin," you said quietly. "I want to build something. Change things. Be more than just someone's... someone."

He sat up too. Ran a hand through his hair. His eyes met yours—soft, tired, maybe even a little sad."I know," he whispered. "But I think I'm already living the life I wanted."

And there it was.

The breaking point that neither of you dared to admit until now.

You looked at him—really looked. The man you once loved so fiercely it scared you. The one who made you laugh so hard your ribs ached, who held you after your first panic attack, who kissed you under summer rain on the back of his bike.

But something had changed.

And maybe love wasn't enough anymore.

Few weeks later  in  bike shop  which smelled like grease, metal, and faint cigarette smoke—the same as it always had. Shinichiro sat cross-legged on the concrete floor as he  tightening bolts on a Yamaha engine that didn't need any more tightening. His flip phone sat screen-down nearby, untouched even though it had buzzed three times already.

Wakasa flicked his cigarette outside, watching smoke trail in the golden late-afternoon light. "You gonna call her back?"

Shin didn't look up. "She's probably still grading papers. Or studying. Or both."

"You always say that," Takeomi muttered, crouched beside an old bike frame he was sanding. "You're not avoiding her, are you?"

"I'm trying to give her space." shinichiro muttered 

Wakasa snorted. "You mean you're scared."

Shinichiro finally stopped working and leaned back on his hands, staring up at the wooden beams above. "It's not like before now we barely talk and whenever we do it's all routine stuff. She looks tired all the time. Burnt out."

"Yeah?" Wakasa said, sitting on the toolbox and popping open a cold canned coffee. "Maybe she's tired of being the only one chasing something."

Shin's jaw tightened. "You think I don't support her?"

"I think you're scared she's outgrowing you. And you don't know how to talk about it."

Takeomi added, quieter, "You're both holding back. She's got that politician blood in her—always pushing forward. But you... you're okay staying still. She's trying to change the world. You're trying to fix what's already broken."

The silence stretched until the bell above the garage door jingled and Ryuoga stood there, hoodie half-zipped, a camera slung around his neck and a weirdly nervous look on his face.

Shinichiro blinked. "Ryuoga- kun?"

"Hey," the kid mumbled. "Uh... can I talk to you? Alone?"

Takeomi raised a brow, then nodded at Wakasa, and they both headed out to the street for smokes and vending machine snacks. And Ryuoga stepped inside, fidgeting with the lens cap in his fingers. "She won't say it, but she's miserable."

Shinichiro looked at him, expression unreadable. "I know."

"She thinks you're pulling away. And you think she doesn't need you anymore."

"...She doesn't." Shinichiro said 

"That's not true," Ryuoga snapped, more sharp than he meant. "She's just exhausted. And she's trying to become someone who can't be shaken. And you're... I dunno, you're letting her believe you don't fit in that version of her life."

Shinichiro leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because she loves you. Because she doesn't talk to me about anything unless it's exam scores or lesson plans. And because maybe if you two don't fix this, I'll have to keep watching her come home looking like a ghost."

Shinichiro looked at him for a long time. "You're a good brother."

Ryuoga laughed bitterly. "Yeah. Maybe. But I've got my own problems."

Shinichiro tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing. Doesn't matter."

He was lying, but Shin didn't push. Lowkey Shinichiro often noticed the way the ryuoga looked at Izana whenever  he was around and the way ryuoga pretended not to care when Izana teased  him.

Shinichiro sat on the edge of his bed, running a hand through his unwashed hair. He hadn't seen you in weeks—not properly. You'd drifted into silence, and he let you. He kept telling himself you needed space... but truth was, he was the one who didn't know how to face you. But tonight, he told himself he'd change that. He'd get up, clean up, and try to make things right. He just didn't know how. So like an idiot, he went to Wakasa. Waka had always been good with women—hell, since they were kids, he had girls eating out of his hand. Even now, running one of the more exclusive clubs in Roppongi, he was still smooth, confident, put-together in a way Shinichiro never felt lately. Maybe Wakasa could help. Maybe a night with an old friend and a few drinks would clear his head.

It was already past midnight when Shin walked into the club, hands in his jacket pockets, looking out of place among the designer suits and women with high heels and glassy eyes.

Wakasa spotted him instantly. "Shin! No fuckin' way, man!" He grinned wide and pulled him into a one-armed hug. "What, you crawl out of your shop just to see me?"

"Somethin' like that," Shinichiro muttered, giving a tired smile.

Waka didn't press for details. Instead, he threw an arm up and shouted toward the staff, "Bring the girls out! My brother's here—he drinks free tonight!"

"Waka—" Shinichiro started, awkwardly shaking his head, "I didn't come for that shit."

Waka smirked. "Relax. Just some company. Ain't like you gotta marry 'em."

The drinks came quick. So did the women—gorgeous, confident, covered in glitter and perfume. One of them slid into Shin's lap without asking. Another poured him whiskey like it was holy water. He tried to resist, kept his hands to himself, but the loneliness hit harder than the alcohol.

By the time he stumbled out of the club, the Tokyo air was heavy, sticky with cigarette smoke and sweat. He barely noticed the girl still clinging to his side, her nails dragging down his chest, lips brushing his ear.

"Let's go somewhere," she whispered. "You look like you need to get fucked."

And then—

"Shin— kun ."

That voice.

He froze.

His head snapped up, and his blood ran cold.

It was you. Standing across the sidewalk under the flickering neon light of a FamilyMart sign. Next to you was Yuna—your best friend. And suddenly, Shinichiro remembered—Yuna ran a hostess club too. Just a couple blocks from Waka's.

Of all the fucking places. Of all the nights.

Your eyes—wet, wide, completely shattered—locked on the scene. You didn't say anything else. Didn't yell. Just stood there, watching that girl press herself against Shinichiro's side like you didn't exist.

He tried to speak. "I—"

SLAP.

The sound cracked across the street like a whip.

Your hand trembled as you lowered it. You didn't scream, didn't even curse him out. Your tears spoke loud enough. You turned around and ran, heels echoing in the night, a broken silhouette disappearing into the Tokyo crowd.

Shin took a breath that never came.

The girl still hanging on his side blinked and said with a shrug, "Damn. That your girlfriend?"

Wakasa rushed out of the club just then, clearly catching the tail end of the scene. He shoved the girl aside with a look of disgust. "Get lost. You got no idea what the fuck you walked into."

"Hey, don't touch me!" the girl snapped.

"Walk," he growled, and she finally left, muttering something about "crazy men" under her breath.

Then Yuna stepped forward. Her heels clicked slow and deliberate against the pavement. She was pissed—beyond pissed. She wasn't just your best friend tonight. She was your sword.

"Are you fucking serious, Shinichiro?" Her voice was sharp, venomous. "What the hell was that? You out here letting bitches crawl on your lap like a damn sleazebag while Y/N's still sitting at home thinking you need time?"

Shinichiro clenched his jaw. "It wasn't like that."

"Oh, really?" Yuna snapped, stepping in closer. "Because from where I was standing, it looked exactly like that. You ghost her for weeks, can't even give her the courtesy of a fucking breakup, and now you're out here getting drunk and letting half-naked women grind on you like you're some single, washed-up prick with no heart?"

"She left—" he snapped, voice shaking.

"No, you left," Yuna shot back. "You left her every day you stayed silent. She waited, Shin. She waited, hoping you'd come back, hoping you'd still fight for her. And now she's out there crying her heart out in a back alley because you decided to chase attention instead of facing your fucking guilt."

"Didn't mean?" Yuna cut him off, voice rising. "She's been waiting for you, Sano—kun. Every day, still hoping you'd get your shit together. Still telling me, 'He just needs time, I know he loves me.'" Her voice broke slightly. "And you? You're out here acting like you're already single. At least have the fucking decency to tell her it's over before you go fucking around—or do you get off on stringing her along?"

Shin couldn't take it. The anger, the shame—it bubbled and cracked.

"Shut the fuck up!" he barked. "You don't know what I've been dealing with! You think I wanted this? I didn't fuck anyone! I didn't even touch that girl!"

"Doesn't fucking matter!" Yuna screamed back. "Because she saw it, Shin. She saw enough to break. And she thinks it's her fault."

That hit him like a knife to the gut.

He didn't say anything. Just stood there, fists shaking at his sides, chest heaving.

Shin's voice cracked. "I didn't mean to hurt her..."

"But you did," Yuna whispered, her rage finally slipping into exhaustion. "And she's still out there waiting for the version of you she believed in. What the fuck are you waiting for?"

[neurodivergentminor]

So, Is this the Fate?

Warning: none, although it contains a bit of double meaning or subtitle jokes

order to read: prologue, chapter 1, chapter 2, Chapter 3,

ℭ𝔥𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔯 4

It was just another weekday for the Haitani family. The sky outside their penthouse was still tinted a moody shade of grey, Tokyo's skyline shrouded in the usual morning haze. Inside, the air was thick with the smell of instant coffee and burnt toast. Rindou, shirt halfway buttoned, leaned over the kitchen counter, looking pissed as he poked aggressively at the half-working toaster.

"Why the fuck do we still have this piece of shit? We run a club,"  he muttered, glaring as a single sad slice of bread popped up half-raw.

"Because you won't go buy a new one," Ran called out from the living room, where he was kneeling awkwardly on the rug, a brush in one hand and a hair tie clenched between his teeth. "Now shut up and get her lunch ready."

In front of him, Reiko sat with her arms folded, legs swinging off the low couch, her pink backpack hanging lopsided on one shoulder. "I wanna look pretty, Papa," she huffed, eyes glistening like she was seconds away from a tantrum. "Nene-chan always looks so cool! She has clips and shiny things and matching socks and her mama puts glitter in her hair!"

Ran raised an eyebrow, struggling to part her hair evenly. "You're already cute. Quit whining."

"But I wanna be the cutest girl! If Nene-chan's mama was my mama, I'd be the prettiest in the whole world! She even gives Nene-chan candy and makes cute bento and lets her wear—"

"—Crop tops and pink boots," Rindou interrupted flatly as he walked past with a mug. "Reiko, her mom's a damn gyaru. She probably has a Hello Kitty lighter and fuckin' pepper spray in the same pocket."

Reiko gasped. "I want a Kitty lighter too!"

Ran snorted. "You're five."

Then she said it again, pout deepening, "I wish Nene-chan's mommy was my mommy..." Ran froze for a second. The hair tie slipped from his lips. Rindou coughed into his mug, hiding a grin. "Damn, she just wrecked your whole existence, aniki."

Ran groaned, massaging his temple. "What kind of fuckin' morning is this?"

Reiko turned around and glared. "You don't even know how to braid!"

"You wanna end up bald? Sit still," he muttered, trying to salvage the mess of loose strands. "Goddamn kids..." The image of Reiko done up like a mini-gyaru crossed both their minds—lip gloss, sparkles, fake lashes. It was so horrifying it became hilarious. Rindou laughed first. "Imagine her in a little leopard coat and heels. Bitchin' about her juice box not being cold enough." Ran barked out a real laugh. "Screaming 'ew' at everything and refusing to wear anything not pink."

Reiko just blinked, confused. "That sounds fun..."

After bribing her with a panda sticker and a juice pouch, they finally got her dressed and ready. Rindou threw together a last-minute bento, and they loaded into the black SUV for the daycare run.

"Five minutes late," Rindou noted, checking his watch. "Again."

But then they saw you.... You were sprinting down the sidewalk in platform sneakers, your laugh echoing down the street. Nene was right beside you, trying to outrun her own backpack, the two of you locked in a childish race.

"I win! Loser does dishes!" you declared, laughing, as you tapped the gate.

"No fair, you took a shortcut!" Nene cried. "You cheated, Mama!"

"Work smarter, not harder, babe," you winked, crouching to catch your breath.

Ran leaned out the car window slowly, one brow raised.

"The hell is she wearing?" Ran muttered under his breath.

You were dressed like always—oversized cardigan slipping off one shoulder, plaid skirt just shy of scandalous, layered necklaces bouncing with every step. Hair done up with heart-shaped clips. You looked like you walked off the set of a Shibuya street ad, minus the attitude.

Except you weren't posing. You were laughing. Alive. Real. And Nene? She was a carbon copy of you—only cleaner, softer. Her outfit mirrored yours, all pinks and whites, but age-appropriate. Her backpack had bows. Her boots had rhinestones. Yet somehow, she looked grounded. Cared for. Happy.

Ran's jaw tightened slightly.

"She's dressing that kid like herself," Rindou muttered.

"Yeah," Ran said absently. "Only one of 'em pulls it off."

Rindou smirked. "You mean the mom?"

Ran didn't reply. He just watched as you adjusted Nene's hair, flicking a piece of lint from her collar.

Reiko, sitting in the backseat, had her face pressed to the window. "See?! Nene-chan's mama is so cool! She can run and do makeup and dress cute and she's not even tired!"

Ran muttered, "I bet she is tired. She just hides it better than half the bitches I know." Rindou rolled his eyes as always, but Ran stepped toward you with that smooth, easy confidence that pissed you off more than it should've.

"So, Ms. L/N," he smirked, voice low and slick like always, "how you doin'? Looks like you've got the day off. Wanna go out somewhere?"

You didn't even slow your pace, heels clicking as you made your way to your car. "Well, well," you replied coolly, not even looking at him, "I do have an off day. Which I plan to spend on myself. I've already got plans with my friend, so... no thanks."

Ran stood on the curb, hands in his coat pockets, watching as you slipped into your car without so much as a glance his way. The engine started, and just like that, you were gone. No words. No goodbye.

He didn't even flinch. Just smiled faintly to himself, like he was used to being left standing there.

Rindou stood beside him, cracking his neck as he lit a cigarette. "Damn, she's got you pathetic lately," he muttered through the smoke, blowing it out into the chilled evening air. "Didn't even spare you a fuckin' look."

Ran didn't answer. He just started walking toward the car, that same unreadable smirk on his face, but the silence between the brothers said enough. They both knew how it was.

Back at Bonten HQ, it was business as usual—breaking bones, collecting payments, and reminding scumbags why the Haitani name still held weight in Tokyo's underground. Blood on the boots, dead eyes behind designer shades. Just another day.

By the time they got home, they were worn down—physically and mentally. Still, duty called. They changed out of their bloodstained clothes, cleaned up just enough to not look like criminals, and headed to the daycare to pick up Reiko.

But the second they walked in, Ran's eyes scanned the room—and Nene was already gone.

He didn't say anything, but something twisted in his gut.

You'd picked her up early. No warning, no message. Not even a sarcastic text.

"Tch. Guess she didn't want to deal with your dumbass today," Rindou muttered with a smirk. "Can't blame her. You've been a moody little bitch lately, aniki."

"Keep talkin', I'll make you pick her up next time," Ran replied coolly, but there was no real bite behind it. Just exhaustion.

Reiko came running up seconds later, eyes wide with excitement. "Papa ~! Nene-chan already went home! Her mama came early and picked her up and they're going to a salon! A fun place! Can we go too? You never take me anywhere!"

Ran blinked slowly, then ran a hand down his face.

"Get in the car."

That was all he said.

He drove them home in silence, Rindou half-dozing in the passenger seat, muttering insults under his breath. At home, Ran went through the motions—gave Reiko a bath, towel-dried her hair, sat her on the edge of the bed and gently combed through the tangles while she chattered on and on about how pretty Nene's mom looked, and how they were gonna get glitter hair and maybe even matching nails.

Ran didn't say a word. Just listened. Just kept brushing.

She kept talking as he served her dinner, rambling on about Nene's house, Nene's snacks, Nene's mom. The way her eyes sparkled when she said your name made something sharp twist in his chest.

From the living room, Rindou groaned dramatically. "Aniki, she's obsessed with her. At this rate, you're gonna get replaced by a hot single mom with better snacks and actual free time."

Ran exhaled slowly, ignoring him. He walked into the kitchen, grabbed his phone off the counter, and opened your chat.

"You picked her up early.""Something going on? "Or you just ghosting me ?"

Left on read. No reply.

He stared at the screen a moment too long. Couldn't even be mad. Not really. You'd always been like this, balancing a high-energy kid and a late-night job in a host club like it was nothing. He knew what that took. Knew how much it drained you.

"She's got you wrapped around her fuckin' finger, aniki," Rindou called out again, half-laughing. "Just admit it. Girl's got you soft."

Ran didn't answer. He just shoved the phone in his pocket, leaning forward against the counter with both hands, head bowed slightly.

"Shut the fuck up," he muttered finally.

But they both knew it wasn't really meant for Rindou

Next day 

The morning crept in slowly, sifting light through the overcast sky like guilt filtering into a restless mind. Ran sat silently in the driver's seat, Reiko buckled in the back, singing some chirpy, improvised song about sparkles, races, and Nene-chan's magical shoes. He tried to focus on the road, but her voice was background noise to the quiet ache in his chest. It wasn't anger, not really—it was something quieter. Regret, maybe. Frustration that settled like smoke in his lungs.

Rindou sat beside him, dead quiet until Reiko started her second verse.

"Still going, huh?" he muttered.

"Yeah," Ran said flatly.

"I swear to God, aniki, if I hear 'Nene-chan's mama can fly' one more time, I might pull the car over the walk."

Ran didn't laugh. Didn't even crack a smile. The truth was, yesterday had bothered him. Not because you didn't answer his message—but because of how much that had gotten to him. He didn't like feeling that invested. He didn't like being left hanging. That vulnerability scraped at something inside him, something he kept buried beneath years of silence and bloodstained routine.

When they pulled into the daycare, the same scene played out again: you and Nene, running toward the front entrance like it was a finish line. Laughing like the world hadn't chewed either of you up. Like neither of you carried weight you couldn't speak about in front of your daughters.

Ran clenched his jaw. He didn't want to admit it, but he was jealous. Of the ease between you two of the way Reiko lit up just watching.

Rindou scoffed. "Fucking childish."

Ran said nothing. Just opened the door and got out.

You saw him coming. The way your eyes flicked toward him said you expected this. Ran stopped a few steps away.

"Got a minute?" he asked.

You exhaled. "Sure. But if this is another lecture—"

"You didn't answer me yesterday," Ran cut in, not unkind, but firm. "I thought something happened."

"I had the day off. Took Nene out. That's it."

"You could've told me."

"I didn't think I owed you a schedule."

That was fair. He didn't have a comeback for it. But it still stung. The silence. The distance. It made him feel unimportant, like a shadow lurking at the edge of your life.

"You spoil her," he said finally. "All that racing and sugary talk—it's not gonna prepare her for what the world's like."

You rolled your eyes. "Thanks for the unsolicited parenting tip. I didn't realize crime lords were now experts in child psychology."

The words were sharp, and they hit harder than you probably meant them to. Even Nene stiffened next to you. Ran opened his mouth to respond, but Reiko shouted, "Don't be mean to my daddy!"

Nene stepped forward, her small voice high with emotion. "Don't be mean to my mama either!"

Rindou moved before Ran could. His expression was cold, unreadable. He hated disrespect. Hated people snapping at Ran like they forgot who he was.

"Watch your mouth," Rindou said darkly, stepping close. "You think being a mom gives you a pass to act like you're untouchable?"

You stared at him, not flinching. Not backing down. It pissed him off.

"You're just some club rat with a kid," Rindou spat. "Crazy bitch playing house."

Ran moved fast, grabbing Rindou by the arm before he could go further. "Not in front of the girls."

Rindou glared, breathing hard, but stepped back. You didn't say anything. Just crouched, smoothed down Nene's flyaway bangs, and handed her a small pink flip phone.

"This is for emergencies," you said gently. "Just to call me, okay?"

Nene nodded, clinging to your jacket for a second before you nudged her toward the door. Then you stood, brushed off your coat, and without another word, walked back to your car and drove off.

Ran stood still, hands in his pockets. Reiko tugged at his sleeve, asking something, but he barely registered it. He wasn't angry anymore. Just tired. On the drive to Bonten HQ, Rindou lit a cigarette and started muttering. About you. About how women like you always made things harder.

"Shut the fuck up."

Rindou blinked. "What?"

"You don't get it," Ran muttered. "She's doing what she has to. Alone. No backup. No support."

"You're seriously defending her now?"

"I've raised Reiko with you, and I still barely keep it together. Imagine doing it by yourself, with rent and bills and a kid who cries when her shoes don't light up."

There was silence in the car, broken only by the low hum of the engine.

"I get it," Rindou finally said. "I mean... I get why you care. She's strong. She's been through shit. But don't let that blind you, aniki."

Ran gave him a sideways look. "You think I don't know pain when I see it?"

Rindou was quiet for a moment. Then grunted. "Yeah, well... you've got a type. MILF with trauma."

Ran smacked the back of his head, lighter this time.

"Asshole," Rindou muttered.

Ran looked back at the road. But in the quiet that followed, all he could think about was you—your face when you handed Nene that phone, the way your hand trembled, the pride you didn't let anyone touch. Maybe he was too harsh. Maybe he didn't know how to talk to people without turning everything into a warning or a test.

To be continue

[neurodivergentminor]

Opinion or Discussion ?!

Hey everyone! I wanted to ask your thoughts on certain themes or troops in fanfic vampires, witches, gothic theme, or other supernatural/subculture elements. I’ve been planning a fanfic along these lines for a while (it’s already drafted, though still in progress) and I’m doing my best to keep it engaging and not fall into anything too cliché or “cringe.” Also I suggest you guys can refer my other work which are more gyaru/ himegyaru centric ig ?

Although what do you all think of these themes in fanfiction? Do you find them interesting, overdone, or do you enjoy when writers put a unique spin on them? I’d love to hear your takes before I published and share more of my work!

[neurodivergentminor]

Relationship goals

[neurodivergentminor]

Ngl this just heal my heart I really love them 💗 ✨️

Also they are so cute in gakuen au lol

[neurodivergentminor]

My fav ship ♡

I am back to posting on social media after 4 years. Hello 🎉