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gallusrostromegalus · 6 months ago

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Hi, I was re-reading the AEIWAM tag and was wondering how exactly Aizen manages to kill Genkai? She seems one of the most put-together Kenpachi's and Aizen is well Aizen? Did he do it himself or were the curse nails involved?

Kenpachi Genkai has a Lieutenant named Gosuke Kiganjo.

She's fond of Gosuke. He's a quick-witted man with a delightfully jaded opinion of humanity, in contrast to young wife Kakiyo, who has such a resolute sense of Justice she can sometimes make the elderly captain almost believe in the inherent goodness of humanity again. They make a splendid couple, her willingness to do the hard work of improving lives pairs well with his pragmatism and sense of efficiency.

Genkai enjoys their company- it's a terrible thing to be Old, but worse to be Old and Lonely, so she allows them to have her over. She and Kakiyo debate the practicality of the young woman's latest scheme to improve life in the Rukongai while Gosuke cooks. Genkai is sure Yamamoto's decision to transfer Kakiyo as a seated officer in the 4th to lieutenant of the 5th Division under Captain Hirako is not just balancing Shinji's tendency to procrastinate on his work and take inadvisable shortcuts. Yamamoto plans to have her run the 5th someday, and Genkai agrees with the choice.

Oftentimes Kakiyo and Gosuke's friend Sosuke Aizen is there too. He's an agreeable young man, if somewhat forgettable. He has a good memory though, and generous- he always brings fresh produce for Gosuke to make dinner with, and always remembers Genkai's fondness for Garlic Greens.

(continued under the cut)

Gosuke missed his calling as a housewife, Genkai thinks, with no small appreciation of the work that goes into running a house. But he is a splendid cook, and she enjoys many dinners with the couple and their friends.

But she is old. She feels it in her heart- not emotionally, she's not sentimental, but she feels it in the way her heart skips and thuds and the sharp pains in her chest. "Cardiac Arrhythmia" Unohana says. Her heart is failing, falling out of sync, and someday, she'll have a massive heart attack if she's not killed in the traditional way Kenpachis are.

Unohana offers her treatment- Foxglove, deadly to eat a leaf, but diluted into Digitoxin pills, it steadies her heart a bit. She takes the pills with some reluctance- when she remembers to. The duties of a captain are many and more complex than ever, and again, she allows Gosuke to do her a favor- He remembers her medication schedule, and puts the pills next to every meal he cooks for her- almost all of them these days.

...But eventually, the inevitable happens, and three months after her diagnosis, Ninth Kenpachi Genkai dies of a massive heart attack in her sleep after dinner at Gosuke and Kakiyo's home.

When Retsu Unohana does her autopsy of Genkai, something seems amiss- the damage to Genkai's heart is much more advanced than Unohana had expected from her exam less than twelve weeks ago. She should have known- Genkai wouldn't splint broken bones half the time, preferring to rely on her body to heal, and underestimating what she was borrowing from the future.

Unohana rules her Cause Of Death as "Heart Failure", and can only assume that Genkai had not benefited from what little of the Digitoxin she managed to take.

---

A week later, Kiganjo is promoted to Captain of the 11th, and according with tradition, forgoes his given name to assume the Title and mantle of the office.

Now-Kenpachi Kiganjo is somewhat overwhelmed by his new duties, as well as wracked with grief. He cannot bear to clean out his beloved Captain's quarters. Kakiyo grieves differently- the physical work and care she can give to the former captain's belongings will ease the emotional pain, so she offers to clean out the captain's quarters for him.

She is still friends with her colleagues in the fourth, especially Unohana, and as a Lieutenant she's entitled to see the results of the Autopsy. Its puzzling, Unohana's statement that she must not have taken her medication- she watched Gos- her husband put her pills on the tray of every meal he cooked for her in the last twelve weeks. Was she just throwing them away?

It's even more confusing when the clean-out fails to turn up a single pill. She should have found some in the trash or swept under the furniture, right? Maybe it had all been taken out.

That night, she's home alone. Go- her husband is working late while he catches up on the job. She opens the pantry and glares at it- part of the reason she married him was that he was such a good cook. She never got the hang of it, that was always Kaname's chore growing up. Ugh. It's been a long and emotional day and she's got a headache-

She opens the medicine cabinet in search of the aspirin, and is confronted with the Perscription Bottle of Digitoxin. That must be where he was storing it while he cooked for Genkai. Best remove it before he gets back and is reminded- she thinks as she picks the bottle up.

It's full. In fact. It's completely unopened. ...And the pills look nothing like the ones G- Her Husband had been putting on Genkai's tray.

She stands there. Trying to make sense of it. Was this a second bottle? Prescriptions came in three-month supplies, maybe he had just finished out the first bottle when she died, and this would have been her next bottle of medication? She goes to check the date-

"Anyone home?" 5th Division third seat Aizen calls out.

"MOTHER FUCK- I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Aizen- You startled me and it's- it's- Oh God, I miss her so much!" Kakiyo sobs, and Aizen appears at her side, a comforting shoulder to cry on.

He escorts her to the living room and lets her sob while he gets the kitchen in order and cooks- He used to be a confectioner before he was a Shinigami and he makes a good fried rice too. He tells her stories about the candy business and childhood chicanery he got up to with his brother back in West 43 until-

-She almost doesn't recognize the man as her husband at first. Something is wrong with his posture, stooped and sluggish, and grimacing where there should be a grin. But the tenth Kenpachi comes and embraces his wife, and- it's alright. He's still her husband, and she lets him carry her to bed.

When she wakes up late the next morning, she stumbles into the bathroom and squints at the counter- There was something in here she needed to ask her husband about- Something about? Ugh. She can't remember. She feels hungover, and whatever it was is gone now.

---

On his way back to the 5th, Sosuke Aizen stops on the bridge over the canal, looks around to make sure he is alone, and dumps the bottle of digitoxin pills into the canal. He tears off the label from the bottle, tears it up, takes a look around for witnesses again, and throws the bottle and torn label into the trash-filled canal.

Lily of the Valley is the token flower of the 5th division, a symbol of Purity and Innocence. It's also quite poisonous- all parts of the plant are toxic, and will cause cardiac problems in high enough or continuous doses. Foragers must be very careful to not mistake the leaves for wild garlic greens- they look extremely similar. Lily Of The Valley has not much flavor, so a few leaves might not be noticed in a whole bunch, especially if they're all cooked in the same dish together.

Eating a bit won't kill, but one leaf in a bunch a few times a week could prove fatal in a few short months. Especially if the person is prevented from taking Digitoxin to counteract the effects.

He nearly had a heart attack himself when he saw the bottle on the bathroom counter, but with Kakiyo so tired already, it wasn't hard to weave Suigetsu's illusions around her, cutting off her memory of the bottle, and the autopsy report.

He'll have to talk to his co-conspirator about these slip-ups. His wife is quite observant, and it would be a shame if the lovely Kakiyo had to be dealt with as well. At least, before she has been of more use to Aizen. His plan demands that he eventually control the Fifth division, and the fact she outranks him is... inconvenient.

---

About a week later, Head Librarian of the West 51 District Library Kaname Tousen receives a letter from his sister Kakiyo in the Seireitei. She writes (Or rather, she has carefully dented the Vellum with Braille, the thin calfskin holds the marks better through the mail) about the sudden decline and death of their good friend Genkai, and how profoundly the loss has effected his brother-in-law. She doesn't actually use the name "Gosuke" anywhere in the letter, only referring to him as "My husband".

Kaname is saddened as he reads, but then he worries, as she writes about how stressed she's been- strange lapses in memory, paperwork mislaid- thank goodness third seat Aizen had found and filed that report for her. How distant and humorless her husband has been- coming home late and reeking of alcohol even! She has the terrible feeling that there is something wrong, even more than her friend's sudden and saddening death. Something is terribly, terribly wrong, but she can't imagine what it is.

...Maybe it's just the grief. I keep seeing conspiracies in coincidences, jumping at shadows- but there's nothing there.

I know you've got the summer reading program, and I can't take enough time to travel out there right now- write back soon? Tell me about the summer students and the state of the town, how you and Sajin are. You have a gentleness with your words I could use right now.

All my love,

Kakiyo

#Bleach #bleach fanfiction #AEIWAM #An Elephant Is Warm And Mushy #Kaname Tousen #aizen sosuke #long post under the cut #cw: fictional murder

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cheesus-doodles · 7 months ago

Text

A Friend In Me: Chapter 4

Yandere Platonic Toman

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Chapters 1 | 2‎ | 3

Masterlist

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my usual pink line divide no longer works because it messes with the tags ;^; have this divider from angelfire instead

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The world around Mikey came to a standstill. His ears buzzed with static, unable to process anything as his mind raced. In a sole instant, everything clicked together as if an incomplete puzzle finally being solved, and the Tokyo Manji Gang president could see the full picture, though the surprise at this revelation never made it to reflect in those abyss eyes.

It made sense now, the blond-haired boy mused, watching the other five Toman founders burst into action in slow motion around him. He understood. Why you were attracted to two fighting delinquents instead of beating a hasty retreat like everyone else when you first met them, why you never seemed bothered by them turning up with small splatters of blood on their disheveled uniforms, why you could so effectively patch up injuries. You had never divulged or discussed your home life nor your childhood with them, and he had never bothered pressing you for details. Because why would he, when all evidence pointed to you living alone and having always lived alone? Having followed you home countless times to an empty house, you were always alone at all times of the day. No laundry or carelessly strewn clothes to be found, no closed or locked room that indicated another resident in your home. Even the pictures that decorated the walls and your bedrooms have always just been you and them.

“Hey!” From behind Mikey came a shout from Mitsuya, quickly followed by the telltale sounds of a tussle between the Toman Vice President and the Second Division Captain over you in the middle. “Don’t pull like that!”

You had grown up beside a delinquent. Your older brother whom you had never cared to mention was himself a fearsome and borderline insane delinquent - they had doubetlessly heard of Madarame Shion’s brutality and his supposed involvement in underworld crimes even before their paths crossed. Of course nothing they did would surprise or scare you if this was the normal behavior you were exposed to all your life.

Abyss eyes turned to take in the expression on your face, the horror at what was happening slowly settling into your swollen eyes even as tears continued to streak down flush cheeks. Yet, all it took was the merest exposure to what was the normalcy of any delinquent’s life for you to break down - a telling-off, a by-far bloodless fight, nothing that would raise the eyebrow of a seasoned onlooker really. So how much did you really know? Did you know of their previous clash with Shion and the ninth generation of Black Dragons back when from the founding of Toman? He doubted it - your reaction to them after their fight would have been a lot stronger if you did. But most importantly, why didn’t you tell them earlier about having an older sibling?

A muffled shout from your still-connected call to your disgrace-of-a-delinquent older brother was enough to draw Mikey’s attention back to the current situation at hand, though he all but ignored whatever that goon had to say. No, you couldn’t know, he determined, because if you did, you would clearly see that they had no reason to fear a shithead like Shion. They had beaten him and his gang once already, what was a second time? But he could get the answers out of you later, once you were safe and away from this mess. For now, the Toman President mused, as time returned to its usual speed and the world exploded back into its full chaotic state, there were more important things to settle.

The mere thought of possibly losing you to this black-haired homewrecker you called Koko, or even worse, the loser of an older brother that they have already beaten to a pulp once; his heart raced. He couldn’t accept it. These weak-willed losers couldn’t be allowed to win him, especially not in a matter as important as this.

Pivoting around, your watery eyes were helplessly fixed on the brawl going down right in front of you, phone clutched in a white-knucked grip. This was all for your own good. He was just protecting you from the wider world, the Toman President tried to convince himself, his slippered feet starting its ominous route towards the brawling four, his hands tucked almost casually into the pockets of his school pants. Your eyes immediately snapping to him and your lips falling apart as you watched him move.

Not because Mikey needed your support and your attention; no, he didn’t need you as much as you needed him. He was strong, the unshakable pillar of the Tokyo Manji Gang, not soft and weak and a crybaby like you. His heart wasn’t aching at the mere thought of never being able to see you again, never having you pamper and lavish him with attention and love and filling the hole in his heart - the palpitations was from excitement, the itch to fight and drive away the enemies of his friends.

He was the Invincible Mikey, and now more than ever, he needed to make sure that everyone knew why.

‎‎

Ninth Generation Black Dragon President. You heard Koko loud and clear right before the momentary tranquility went straight to hell once more, but now you could barely think amidst the cacophony. Individually, the words made sense, yet strung together, it became incoherent to your spinning mind. Too many, too much. Watching Baji once more take aim at the opposing delinquent, you staggered a step forward, your heart urging you to take action; do something, do anything. Before someone gets hurt again.

You were yanked back before you could take another step, vaguely registering Draken’s voice snapping at you but nothing registering in your mind. Fixated on the fight going on its second round, the white of Inui’s uniform, combined with his sunflower-blond hair, seemed to almost glimmer in the sunlight as it caught your eye, and the memories you had long lost to the back of your mind came surging back to the front. You had seen that uniform before, having washed and scrubbed the blood from the white fabric before Shion moved out. It’s happening. Again. Any control you felt you had left over your own life was slipping through your fingers once more; the way of your life that you had so painstakingly built, the personality you had so carefully tailored, everything was falling apart in front of your eyes. All over again.

Those stunned expressions you just saw simply couldn’t be faked, you knew instinctively, not with how all of them wore the same look on their faces. For reasons beyond you, everyone present all knew your older brother, and vice versa. They all hated each other, and you were caught right in the middle. How could you have known that the only friends you had knew of and hated each other? What more could you have done? What could you have done differently?

Maybe you should have heeded Mikey’s and the other’s warnings about Koko. Maybe if you hadn’t gone looking for that CB250T. If you hadn’t-

Every breath became heavier and heavier, faster and faster, and you struggled to fill your lungs, the air sludgy and thick. The world around you was all too much. Too loud. You couldn’t-

A fresh pair of arms enveloped you, and you were pulled into a tight hug. “Breathe.”

You let out the breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding, your body shuddering as the atmosphere instantly thinned out. You gulped down as much oxygen as you could, your sweating palms glistening in the light of the afternoon sun.

“Are you alright?” Mitsuya’s voice was calm, soft, those calloused hands gently running through your hair as he bodily blocked you from the fight that was occurring just a stone’s throw away.

Unable to speak, you simply nodded, wiping your fist on your shirt. I’m fine, you mouthed, though you knew that Mitusya knew it was a lie, your skin having turned several tones lighter from the lack of air. But you had other more important things to concern yourself with (at least in your view), as you attempted to look over your friend’s mob of purple hair. What had you missed?

“Relax,” the Toman founder tried to convince you, resting one hand atop your head yet not forcing you down by any means despite Draken’s annoyed ‘tch’ from behind you, where he continued to hold on to you tightly. “Let them handle it.”

Let them handle it? Giving a shaky glance you hoped was reassuring at Mitsuya, you turned your attention back to the fight, right as Kazutora broke past Inupi’s defense, his fist outstretched and jealous anger fully directed at Koko.

In a single blink, you broke free from both Draken and Mitsuya’s grip, your long strides closing the distance between you and Koko. “Tory, stop!”

‎

The last thing Koko expected was to see you flying towards him, putting your decidedly much more fragile self between him and the Toman founder.

”Fuck- Watch out!”

An exceptionally hard yank from Koko had both you and him flying backwards, but the loud smack of a fist into the back of your head as the two of you fell towards the ground was unmistakable. His gut dropped. Damn it. Too late. Landing with an oof on the hard ground and you atop him, the infamous financier could hardly acknowledge the ache of his back, not while his thoughts were focused solely on you. “Are you alright?” What on earth were you thinking? He wasn’t exactly a delinquent but he sure as hell could take, if not dodge, a hit better than you - he just preferred standing behind others.

You winced, rubbing what should be a forming sore spot where you were hit. “I’m fine,” you assured, the momentary crinkle of your forehead as you carefully shifted tilted your head telling otherwise, though it was quick to evaporate as the realization of who cushioned your fall hit you. You scrambled to stand, but you were instantly tackled to the ground once more by a bawling Toman founder with black and yellow hair and nearly falling over again - Kazutora, if Koko remembered correctly.

”I- I-“ Barely able to speak, your own injury was forgotten as you instantly shifted to attempt to soothe the wailing boy with an undeserved gentleness. “I hit-”

”I’m fine, I’m fine,” you tried to reassure. “It barely touched me.” It was obviously the wrong thing to say, your voice quickly drowned out as Kazutora only cried harder, burying his face into your shirt, fists clenching bundles of your school shirt.

Koko could only watch on as you caught his gaze, returning an apologetic one of your own as you did your best to soothe the bawling delinquent - a sight that he never thought he would witness. He did already have a good idea of what your self-proclaimed Toman friends were like, having been forewarned about how protective they were of you (some of your stories truly did raise an eyebrow or two). And sure, Inupi had whirled around at his alarmed shout with what should be an intent to help, but his attention had been forced back to the fight on hand almost instantaneously when Baji had attempted to take advantage of his momentary distraction to go in for a sweep; it's not as if his friend didn’t care at all. But expecting to have to throw hands was one thing, understandable even, given how he would be associated with Inupi and thus the Black Dragons, but this level of attachment? Were all these waterworks even real?

A set of footsteps stomping in his direction had the notorious financier look up, and straight at the Toman’s Vice Captain towering over him. But the other’s ire surprisingly wasn’t directed at him, and instead, you were bodily lifted by the front of your shirt, forcing Kazutora off of you right before you were shaken like a stuck salt shaker. “What the hell were you thinking?! That was insane!”

“I’m alright-” You barely got two words out before being cut off again.

“YOU ARE NOT OKAY,” bellowed back an uncharacteristically furious Draken, and you threw both hands up in surrender even as you continued to be shaken around like a martini. “YOU COULD’VE GOTTEN HURT. OR KILLED!”

Kazutora only started to cry harder at his words, babbling incoherently as he tried to latch onto your legs.

At least the Toman Third Division Captain was on your side, stepping between a furious Vice Captain and you and prying you free with little effort. “You’re making it worse,” Pah said simply, echoing Mitsuya’s earlier words.

‎

“-ey! HEY! ” The vague screams of Shion echoed out from beneath you, alerting you, Koko and everyone else to the fact that you had yet to hang up on your previous call. Fishing around beneath you where your phone had most likely fallen earlier on, your older brother’s frankly annoying shrieking was finally noticed, now that the general mayhem had died down.

And much to Koko’s annoyance, you visibly stiffened upon hearing Shion once more, like a bolt of lightning ran up your spine, and you bent over to gingerly pick up your dropped phone. He hated seeing you scared of someone as useless as Shion, a scumbag even Inupi wasn’t impressed with. If he could make your problem disappear, he would in a blink. Not that this would be right time to tell you this.

The clash of delinquents had long driven off any last soul left that tried to wander down this street, the road deserted of passerbys of any kind. Even the wind had long died down, and Koko hastily dabbed away the sweat forming along his upper lip. “Ah, nii-san-” You mumbled out under your breath, though that was most likely more to remind yourself who you were dealing with on the other end.

“FUCKING FINALLY! YOU GET YOUR ASS HOME NOW!”

Deflated, you looked defeated at your older brother’s orders, your shoulders slumping over. “I-”

But Shion was not done. “AND DROP THOSE TOMAN FUCKS, UNDERSTAND?”

And that was apparently where the former Black Dragon President crossed the line. In a blink, your phone disappeared from your grip as if by magic. You barely had time to react, the small, outdated electronic now clutched tightly in Mikey’s white-knuckled grip, a speed that took even Koko by surprise. When did he get that? Where did he even come from?

“I’ll kill you,” the threat from the Toman President was loud and clear, the sheer rage burning behind those empty eyes enough to have even Koko recoil. “You try anything funny, and I’ll kill you, right here, right now.”

A snort. “Try it, motherfu-”

‎

It was a loud crack, followed by a small fizzle, an unremarkable show that marked the untimely end to your device as Mikey crushed the phone underfoot without an afterthought. Your jaw dropped. Koko estimated you must have lost the equivalent of several months of work in one inconsiderate move.

Not that the Toman lowlives you called friends knew, of course, seemingly failing to notice you staring on speechlessly as Baji proceeded to grind the heel of his foot into the electronic device, spitting curses probably meant for your brother. You no doubt knew full-well by now that they were pissed to hell and back, both at Shion and at him, but did they have to take this out on your poor, defenseless phone?

A shove from Mitsuya quickly broke Baji’s rampage. “Stop that!” The purple-haired boy scolded, as he pushed the other Toman founder away, earning himself an irritated “Huh?!” from the First Division Captain, though that did little to scare Mitsuya. “You’re making it worse!”

The breaking of your phone was of relative insignificance to Koko at least, watching you dejectedly shuffle forward to pick up the broken pieces of the devices to stuff back into your pocket; the short tranquility he got now from the previous chaos was worth the cost to replace it for you at a later date. Even better, he could get you a nicer model, something pretty and slick and get into your good books, perhaps convince you to get an additional number that only he would have? That would definitely put him ahead of the Toman boys, at the very least.

“Hey.” A short shuffle, and Koko looked up, his eyes instantly focusing on your outstretched hand.

Inupi had long stepped aside, not eager to be pulled back into this particular lover’s squabble, those blue eyes content with observing as the Toman founders were once more embroiled in pointless arguments once more. Complete with threats of violence and withholding of lunches, it was Mistuya this time that was caught in the middle, attempting to scold both Mikey and Baji with backing from Draken.

You, though, had turned your attention instead to him. “Are you alright?” Your voice was soft, barely audible over the other loud voices. Even with all that happened, you hadn’t forgotten about him.

“Ye, I’m fine,” Koko assured. “Just a bit sore.”

Yet as he reached out to accept your offer of help, it was a sudden recognition of the situation he put himself in that rang in his ears and rattled his mind; the sensation much as if he was waking from a trance the black-haired boy hadn’t even realized he was in. Widened almond eyes met yours, the realization lighting up dilated pupils: if he had known any better, you would have been the last person he would ever want to court, let alone be in any sort of relationship with, coming laden with so much baggage. Anyone would be insane to want to be involved with a walking spark like you.

Alas, the sensation was momentary, and the thought of letting you slip away from him - letting someone Koko cared about be stolen away from him again - was accompanied immediately by a heart-throbbing sense of loss that came surging from his gut. Could he truly live without you to fill the hole in his heart? More importantly, did he dare to attempt to?

Too lost in his thoughts, it was a subconscious catch of movement in the corner of his eye that snapped Koko out from his inner turmoil. It was of course you, though the disappointment was already written on your face as you began to pull away and straighten up, words tumbling free from pressed lips. “Ah- I’m glad,” you muttered, starting to turn away from him. “Hopefully it doesn’t hurt bad.”

How long had he been trapped thinking in real world time? Long enough for you to notice his hesitation, at the very least. Panic now kicking his reaction back into high gear, Koko all but threw himself after your now-retreating hand, catching it just centimeters away from where it had been, a nervous smile pulling at his lips. “Thanks,” was all his heavy tongue could stutter out, the black-haired boy trying desperately to pretend that nothing had happened as he pulled himself up, taking care to rely as little as possible on you. You said nothing, but the upturn of your lips told him everything he needed to know. You didn’t even pull away from him when he had surreptitiously intertwined his fingers with yours, quietly pulling both your hands behind him so the others couldn’t see.

See? There was no doubt - you wanted to be with him. The little moment however didn’t last long, as Koko forced himself to focus back on the issue at hand. He had to solve this issue before they could take you away from him. He couldn’t lose everything again. Wrecking his brain, the solution that Koko arrived at was surprisingly simple.

Money.

It was money that could have saved Akane, so maybe money could save you too? That was it. Money. Money could solve everything, couldn’t it? “How much?” Koko found himself blurting out before he could stop himself. Those two words were enough to dumbfounded everyone there, with eight pairs of eyes turning to stare at Koko. Were they really that surprised? Or just waiting for an offer?

“A hundred thousand yen,” the black-haired boy clarified. And he didn’t need to clarify what he was saying - a hundred thousand yen for them to give you to him. He didn’t want to fight, he was barely interested in being a delinquent as it is. All he wanted was you, no matter the cost. “I’ll give you a hundred thousand yen.”

“What?” You were the first to speak, your slack jaw and furrowed eyebrows sending a throb through his chest. Damn, was his offer too low? You were priceless of course - no matter how vast Koko’s fortune was, you would always be unattainable - so were you going to think that he was being cheap? That you were only worth so little in his eyes?

Even Inupi had raised an eyebrow at his named price, and though the surprise was written all over his usual stoic expression, the blond-haired boy said nothing.

But before he could try and revise his offer, to make sure you knew just how much Koko was ready to spend on you, it seemed his words finally set in in the others’ much slower minds. “Do you think we’re just going to sell-” The vein bulged prominently on Baji’s forehead as he once more lunged forward, and would have reached his target if not for Mitsuya grabbing the back of his shirt. “You son of a bitch!”

“How fucking dare you?!” Kazutora snarled, and Koko braced himself for another fight as the duo-colored delinquent made to pull away from you.

‎

“Honestly why is it everytime there’s a ruckus, it’s always you, Mikey?” A new voice sighed out from behind Koko, catching all present by surprise. Those abyss eyes were an exact carbon copy of the Tokyo Manji Gang President’s, though the man that they belonged to was one that Koko was thankfully still on rather good terms with. “Can yall at least keep it away from my shop? Bad for business and all.”

By now, the once clear sky had filled up with clouds that blocked most of the light from the afternoon sun, the oppressing heat somewhat dissipating as the breeze picked up once more.

From where you were at the center of the mess, your ears perked up as if a dog recognized the word ‘snack’. “O-oji-san?” You sniffled a little, though you quickly pulled yourself together, rubbing your nose on your forearm. Eyes, though red and swollen, were now dry.

“I’m not that old!” Shinichiro froze right as the words left his lips, blinking as he stared back at you, the gears very clearly turning behind his eyes as he took in the entire scene that had unfolded right in front of his shop. “Oh,” the man mumbled, as if all the puzzle pieces had just fallen into place, gaze turning from you to Mikey before landing on Inupi and Koko. A pause, and he sighed, resting one hand on his hip. “It’s you, huh?”

Kazutora shuffled protectively in front of you in an attempt to hide your figure from the older man’s view, your arm interlocked tightly with his as he glared back. “You staring?” The sandy-brown eyed boy demanded, puffing up his chest the same way a cat poofed up its fur, a 180 from his childlike state just minutes earlier, the tears now all gone as he scowled at the newest entry.

This, however, only earned him a whack to the back of his head by Draken, after which the boy deflated. “That’s Mikey’s older brother, dipshit.”

Shinichiro seemed to barely notice the small squabble taking place, his hand dipping into his pocket to withdraw a small, slightly crushed pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Sliding the stick into his mouth and lighting up, the older man took a long inhale, his voice slightly raspy as he spoke. “So,” he started, looking at Mikey. “This is the buddy you’ve been telling me about?”

Yet before Mikey could answer the rhetorical question, Shinichiro had already turned to Koko. “And also your little birdie?”

“No.” “No.” Both Mikey and Baji snapped irritably together in response to the second question, with Baji seemingly just a hair’s breadth away from flying straight at Koko once more, his fist clenching with anticipation.

“He,” Baji very pointedly hissed out, sharp yellow eyes glaring across the aisle at Koko. “Needs to stay away.”

You meekly shuffled your feet, your eyes turned down towards the ground as your Toman friends turned on cue to shoot you a stink eye. Ah. Caught breaking the rules again. “Koko’s just a friend,” you offered weakly, though it didn’t seem to convince anyone.

Koko could only feel the growing pit at the base of his gut as Inupi threw a similarly dirty look his way, though the sunflower-blond Black Dragon member still raised his pipe in defense. Fuck. To be fair to him, Koko reasoned internally, he hadn’t known about your ties to the Tokyo Manji Gang back when he was standing outside Inupi’s door in the rain, but he did casually fail to mention it even after he knew. Now that it was out in the open, there wasn’t really anything more he could say.

Shinichiro let out yet another ragged sigh as he took another breath, exhaling the smoke into a column that hung lazily in the still, humid air before speaking again, this time his words directed at you. “And you’re related to the Ninth Generation Black Dragon President? The one that Toman bea- OW!”

You were slightly confused at Mikey’s sudden move to stomp on Shinichiro’s foot, the abrupt sentence stop only leaving you to wonder. Was Shinichiro trying to say something that Mikey didn’t like? Shrugging it off as something you wouldn’t be able to find out anyway, the side eyes sent Shinichiro’s way were hard to miss. “Madarame is my nii-san,” you nodded, reaching down to gently touch the remnants of your phone jiggling in your pocket. “He moved out from our family home years ago, but it seems like he’s back today for some reason.”

Hopping around the pavement, the man’s expression was twisted in pain radiating from his bruised foot, with Mikey still scowling at his own older brother. “Ah, i-in that case,” Shinichiro managed to grit out as he shuffled back to lean against the glass windows of his shop. “You should go home and see what he wants.”

That turned out to be a highly unpopular opinion, and the disagreement your friends felt necessary to voice was made obvious even with the respect the delinquents had for Shinichiro, Mikey being the loudest in his protest.

“No!” “Absolutely not.” “Are you crazy?!” “NO!” The torrent of disagreements were certainly surprising to you, and you blinked owly as you were physically pulled further away from Shinichiro, as if the older man was going to personally rip you away from your friends and bring you home.

Shinichiro, however, was undeterred by the outburst that half the neighborhood must have heard, waving his arms downwards in an attempt to restore the peace, waiting for the chaos to die down before continuing, his smoking cigarette lightly gripped between two fingers. “As I was saying, you should go home and see what Shion wants first, since he is your older brother. And then Mikey and your friends can meet you after. I’ll settle things here and then send them over, alright?”

It was phrased as if it was a suggestion, but there was no negotiation to be had. Now that Shinichiro was present, he was in charge.

You seemed hesitant, but ultimately agreed. That did make sense to you, given that if Shion was planning to move back home, there were arrangements that would have to be made, and changes in your schedule. And with how much your older brother and Toman seemed to already hate each other, it would be better to allow tempers to diffuse before combining both halves of your life. “Alright, I’ll head home first.”

“What if she isn’t safe at home, Shinichiro-san?” Draken pointed out, his arms crossed, Pah nodding sagely along, joined by the frantic bubbling and wailing from Kazutora, who had done another u-turn from badass delinquent to bubbling and wailing mess, attached to your side like superglue and refusing to let go.

Mitsuya straightened out your school uniform for you, a more levelheaded presence though still physically blocking any view you had of Koko further down the street. “Are you going to be safe?”

You paused, your head cocking as you considered what Mitsuya was asking, before slowly nodding. “Madarame-nii won’t hurt me,” you tried to assure, though you didn’t sound very confident yourself. “I should be fine.”

“They won’t be long here,” Shinichiro promised, grabbing Mikey by the back of his shirt as said boy attempted to make a break for you, before he turned to almost effortlessly snag Kazutora in the exact same manner.

Koko’s heart sank when you turned away from him, but with Shinichiro’s stronger-than-it-looked hand resting on his shoulder, Inupi was already distancing himself from the Toman boys, all he could do was watch you say your goodbyes to your Toman friends before disappearing round the bend, with no say on whether he would ever be able to see you again. Maybe, maybe all he needed was more money.

‎

Fourteen years in the future, the atmosphere that blanketed the headquarters of the feared Tokyo Manji Gang syndicate was not too dissimilar to the delicate yet weighty tension outside of Shinichiro’s shop. It was by every account a gorgeous day outside, the bright afternoon sunlight streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows and catching in the gold trimmings of each and every fitting of the opulent home. Yet, the hallways of the penthouse were unusually empty of the usual black-tie suited gangsters and guards and the like that usually teemed this area, the deafening silence weighing down what was the epitome of luxury. But it was hardly a concerning issue to Kisaki as he stalked down the wide corridors, casting a shadow on the priceless art and other masterpieces as he swept past, the crystals that decorated the chandeliers hanging above chiming lightly as they jingled with the air conditioning. After all, he did know why everyone had been sent away, and he did hold a very slight responsibility for the cause.

His destination was at the end of the corridor, a simple white door fitted into wallpapered walls that stood out like a sore thumb amidst the lavishness, a curse from a different time that continued to haunt both him and Mikey. Because it wasn’t just the door that was a specter from the past, Kisaki knew. The sole rap on the door was a courtesy, and the suited man didn’t wait for a response to enter.

The room he stepped into looked ripped straight from a common suburban home, unfitting for a multimillion dollar house right in the heart of Tokyo, even less so for a yakuza boss with the entire underground world at his fingertips. Simple painted walls, a hardwood flooring, and well-worn furniture that had seen better days, things that Kisaki wouldn’t even give a second glance yet things that would get him shot between his eyes if his fingers lingered on them for a second too long. “Mikey,” Kisaki greeted, cutting a straight path to the single armchair turned to face away from the entrance.

There was no response from said man, abyss eyes staring blankly out clear, streakless windows into the open sky, though his gaze did turn to meet Kisaki’s as the door swung close with a soft click, the dragon tattoo decorating his scrawny neck contrasting greatly with his pale skin. A sky-high view of the city skyline worthy of the sky-high price, but again, not what he was here for.

The Toman second-in-command held up a sheaf of papers, his other hand pushing up his glasses. “Need your sign-off on these.” It was rare for him to have to do such menial tasks as delivering paperwork - that is the sole purpose he pays for Mikey to have a dedicated secretary - but with it being this time of the year again, the reports were once more starting to be returned unsigned and unread.

Yet for all the effort Kisaki undertook to come here in person, it meant nothing to Mikey, the yakuza boss simply ignoring whatever his right-hand man had to say as he turned his gaze back out the window once more. The spectacled man tried again, taking a step closer. “Mikey,” he insisted, hand reaching out in an attempt to pass on the papers on hand.

But it was the distinctive click of a gun’s safety being switched off that had Kisaki retract his hand as if burnt, the anger that had sparked in those usually empty eyes clear as Mikey swung around to glare at him. Throwing both arms up in surrender and under the other’s deadly scowl, he backed away slightly; an inch closer, and those reports would have brushed against the delicate decades-old fabric of the armchair. Your armchair.

That heavy pressure was palpable as the silence weighed on the passing time. A heartbeat, then two. “What?” The biker gang president-turned-mafioso finally growled out, voice hoarse from lack of use - it must have been at least a week since he last spoke, Kisaki noted.

”Your sign-off.”

”No.”

Kisaki let out an exasperated sigh. “Mikey-“

”No,” Mikey repeated. “Leave.” And that was that, with said man refusing to look at him a moment longer, flopping back down into his armchair limply, the momentary energy from a rush of adrenaline dissipated back into the cocktail of depression and drugs the former delinquent had been indulging in.

There was nothing more that the second-in-command could do but to obey and leave. But he did understand the reason behind Mikey’s foul mood - it was just about a month out from both Shinichiro’s and your death anniversary, after all, even if both events were several years apart. Pausing at the threshold of the room, Kisaki used the moment it took to open the door to subtly glance around; it was rare that he ever had the chance to see the inside of this room.

After all, the ghost that still haunted them was you.

This was, or had been, your room, with every last item and detail having been painstakingly removed, transported and reinstalled when the yakuza boss had finally been convinced to relocate from what had been your home in the suburb for his own safety. That armchair, your bed and covers that Mikey still sleeps in, the wooden floor panels and the old plastered walls and ceilings. Even this blasted door which formally served as your bedroom door. It was all you.

And your death hadn’t even been planned. Sure the spectacled man knew of your existence, but you had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and had been caught up in an attack meant for another.

Carefully closing the door behind him, Kisaki shook his head, letting out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The once strongman of Toman, the invincible delinquent, could conquer anything he set out to - the spiral into crime, the murder of his former friends, the whole of the Japan underground world. Yet twelve years on, Mikey just couldn’t let you go, long after you had breathed your last breath and torn the entire Toman apart.

The good thing was that at least Kisaki doesn’t exactly need the Toman boss’ approval to get things done around here; it’s far easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.

‎

Back fourteen years in the past, you hardly had the time to worry about what time would eventually bring to your doorstep, knee-deep in your current problems. The moon hung mockingly high in the sky as you closed the door gently behind you, tweaking the knob slightly as it latched back into place to stop its usual click. Your efforts, however, were in vain, and you froze as the all-too distinctive sound echoed through the otherwise silent night. Carefully pressing one ear against the wooden front door, you held your breath, waiting to hear that distinct stomping of feet down the stairs in your pursuit and the roar of your name.

The past weeks have been nothing short of hell. With your older brother Madarame temporarily moving back into your family home, it went without saying that you were no longer permitted to see your Toman friends going forward, let alone have them come over. Biting your lip, you would simply agree and say nothing more, careful to tread on eggshells around the volatile boy. With how closely your older brother has been monitoring your every move, you hadn’t dared to step out of line - you did previously have a front row seat as to what happened to the people around you the last time you dared to openly disobey.

Yet time and time again, it was Mikey and the others that persisted in swinging round to pick you up in the evenings against your brother’s orders in the one and half week since the fight, exactly as Shinichiro had predicted, even doing several very loud donuts that your neighbors would not appreciate outside your house just to make sure that Shion knew they were there. To your surprise, it was your brother who has done nothing more than scowl at you running out to meet them from the window like a disapproving mother before disappearing into the house, failing to even bring up your cheeky escapades the day after. Him and the Toman founders definitely weren’t on speaking terms, you determined, but there was more to it that either party was willing to say.

But all this was far from your concern at the moment.

Tonight was one of those rare nights: with your brother fast asleep in his bed instead of out and prowling the streets, and the mobs of various-colored hair were nowhere to be seen lounging along your street, busy with a gang meet at Musashi Shrine. A rare chance to take advantage of this extraordinary situation where you have finally been left alone for just a small window of time. That is, as long as you didn’t get caught first - and your brother would 100% tattle on you to your friends if it would get you in more trouble.

The summertime heat was already in full-force by now at the start of August, and though the blazing temperature has at least cooled somewhat with the absence of the sun from the night sky, the humidity had yet to let up. Beads of perspiration that dotted your forehead trailed their way down your forehead as you waited, your heartbeat racing with every second ticking by. Was this it?

A minute passed. Then two. And the inside of your house remained as quiet as the dead of night, the peace of your neighborhood unbroken. Heaving a sigh of relief, you quickly turned heel, fleeing down the lifeless main street before taking a corner at the first alley, coming face to face with a familiar grinning face waiting for you under the flickering light of a weary streetlamp. “Took you long enough,” Koko chuckled, both hands tucked into the pockets of his pants.

“That’s not very nice!” You tried your best to put up an indignant front, but the facade collapsed into a wide grin too quickly for any part of it to be taken seriously. “Did I keep you waiting long, Koko? Sorry ‘bout that.”

The black-haired boy waved off your apologies, pulling himself up from the wall he had been leaning against. “Nah, it’s just been a few minutes,” he admitted. Offering a hand to you, you were glad to accept, gently intertwining your fingers with his as he led you through the dark alleyway, your duo’s footsteps barely echoing amidst the silent residential buildings. “Any place in mind?”

You shook your head. “Didn’t think about it cause I know you do.”

“Ah.”

You laughed as Koko rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. You did know him well enough to assume otherwise. Letting out a hum, you allowed the other to tug you closer to his side, to which you responded by resting your head on his shoulder. “So where are we going?”

If you could be honest with yourself for a moment, Koko was the breath of fresh air you had been looking for. It was a truly ungrateful feeling to harbor, especially towards your Toman boys who had been the ones to take you in and accept you as a friend, but he was an escape from the constant neediness and possessiveness. You did love them dearly, really, but sometimes it all just got too much for you, with the final straw being that particular incident outside of Shinichiro’s shop; you had never been frightened of Mikey or Baji or the others before, yet seeing them snap before your eyes at another that you held dear to you - it was all too much, on top of having to deal with new tension at home.

All you wanted was to be able to hang out with a friend you made yourself, someone you didn’t have to give constant attention to. A friend who wouldn’t put you on a pedestal.

“There’s a nice karaoke place in town,” Koko replied almost absentmindedly, his well-gelled hair bobbing slightly as it caught the occasional light as the two of you stepped out of the alleyway and back onto a main street. “We can take the train there.”

Your mind immediately thought to the last round your Toman boys had invited you to karaoke with them, the session ending with you having to cool heads when they started bickering about whose turn it was with the mic. “That’s a good idea,” you nodded. Those places were open pretty late, right? Plus a private room would make it a lot harder to get caught.

‎

The area the two of you ended up in was a location slightly outside of town, which you recognized as not being too far from Shinichiro’s shop - the now-closed small convenience store was the same one that Mikey had been dragging you past just two weeks earlier. This was definitely a more uptown area compared to where the bike shop was, you noted, the stores though all closed at this hour were steadily getting larger and more luxurious the further you and Koko strolled down deserted streets.

“It’s so quiet,” you found yourself musing out loud, earning a soft exhale from the other.

You rarely venture to this part of Tokyo City, it being well out of your usual sphere of life with good reason, though even with the handful of visits under your belt, the difference between day and night was still starkly visible. A flood of business suits and their occupants busy on the phone, with the rare occasional student weaving their way through the crowd, these streets were hardly catered to a younger audience, the prices well out of the range of what any student could afford, and you would assume the same, even more so in fact at night. The last thing you would expect to find here would be a karaoke, but perhaps you simply missed it before.

“This way,” Koko tugged you through an unassuming door, tucked neatly between two shopfronts and one you would have completely glazed over. Up a dimly lit stairway and with a light knock from your friend, the well-worn steel door opened to reveal a backdrop of high ceilings and a chandelier, framing an elegantly-dressed lady ushering the two of you in, the door swinging shut behind you with a quiet click. You felt your jaw dragging across the floor, eyes glancing around and taking in as much as you could. What even was this place?

Shiny, polished granite floors sparkled with specks of yellow reflected from the dim lights above, the walls trimmed tastefully with gold and decorated with flourished wallpapers. The crystal vase in which an enormous bouquet of flowers had been professionally arranged, atop a spotless dark wood counter, combined with the staff here wearing full suits, was all rather intimidating.

Vaguely noting Koko saying something to the lady who had welcomed you at the door, his words blending into the soft classical background music, you were only grounded by the fact that your hand was still laced with his as you shrunk shyly behind him. Needless to say, you felt extremely out-of-place, dressed in nothing more than your usual outing attire having expected a simple date. Were they going to kick you out?

Not just yet fortunately, as you were led down a velvet-walled hallway instead, lined with doors that ran the entire length, before being ushered into the room right at the end. Koko had stepped into the booth first, holding the door open as you quickly followed suit, and much to your relief, the inside looked similar enough to a regular karaoke room. Letting out a sigh of relief, you settled on the sofa, patting the area next to you. “I thought it was going to be so different,” you admitted, snuggling in close to Koko as he sat down next to you. “The outside looks so fancy.”

Said boy laughed, shaking his head as he leaned over to grab two microphones off their stands. “I thought it would be better since it's unlikely you’ll be found here.” By your Toman friends, that is.

“Not that I don’t like it,” you hastily added, accepting the device from Koko. “It’s lovely, thank you. And I doubt they know this place even exists.”

“No way,” the financier rolled his eyes, earning a giggle from you. That goes without saying. “Come on, pick a song, I’ll order us some drinks.”

‎

Time slipped through your fingers, the minutes flying by without your notice. Though you barely had a sip of alcohol (Koko refused to let you have any more than a taste of his cocktail), you were sure that you were giddy enough from giggling the entire time.

”I still can’t believe you managed to nail that song!” You laughed out, lightly tapping on the black-haired boy’s arm as you carefully stepped across the curb. “I sounded completely off, I swear.”

“No way,” Koko disagreed, a tinge of red brushed across both cheeks as his gaze fell away from yours, though from the alcohol or otherwise, you couldn’t quite tell. He has had several drinks, after all. “You were great.”

Definitely the alcohol, you mused to yourself, squeezing his hand lightly as you gracefully ignored his voice trailing-off. “Thank you for bringing me out tonight, Koko.” And you meant it - with everything that had been going on at home and with the Toman boys, you truly did need this break from the hum and drum of regular life, even if you didn’t know it before. “I really had fun.”

No response, and none was needed, the other only returning the squeeze of your hand, face still turned away from yours. Strolling down the quiet street, it was late into the night, way past the time that you were usually already tucked into bed, your lights turned off and usually accompanied by one (or more) of the Toman founders. Yet your life these past months have been anything but usual, and having been unable to see Koko without getting him into unmeasurable amounts of trouble that would most likely end up with him in the hospital, you did miss him dearly. You will deal with the consequences of a lack of sleep tomorrow, you determined.

The music of yester-hours still buzzing in your ears and a hum under your breath, it would have been a perfect ending to your night if all the excitement ended there.

“Hey assfaces!”

A sudden loud voice from behind that reverberated across the silent night had you jump a foot into the air like a startled cat, and you whirled around to locate the source of the disturbance. Koko, though, seemed barely bothered, his light tugs at your hand urging you to keep walking before trouble found the two of you. Too little, too late; your paths were quickly being blocked by several punks with aggressive hairstyles that you quickly identified as delinquents, though they didn’t seem to have a uniform of any sort, with the attire consisting of a mix of ruffled school uniforms and streetwear. “Strolling through my territory, huh?!”

Your heart skipped a beat - did they know who you were? Were they looking for Koko? No, that couldn’t be it. You decided that being friendly couldn’t go wrong, maybe it’s just a case of mistaken identity. “Hello,” you greeted. “Can we help you?”

A jeer rippled through the crowd in response, and you shrunk back. That was obviously the wrong move. Worse still, your voice seemed to have triggered a memory recall. “I’ve seen you somewhere before,” the seeming group leader muttered, squinting as he leaned in towards you.

The grip Koko had on your hand tightened ever so slightly even as the expression on said boy’s face remained relaxed, almost as if bored. He must have gone through this multiple times, you reckoned, as you tried to shift away from the other.

“Ah,” the recognition settled into the other’s eyes as he pushed his face into your personal space, and you recoiled at the spit flying out from his mouth at you. “It's the shitbag always hanging off of Mikey, aren’t ya you little thing?”

Uh oh.

Another wave of sneering washed through the gang, though this time, the scorn was audible.

“I got beaten up by those Toman fuckers last week!” “One of them burned my bike!” “He stole my lunch!”

Your heart dropped into your gut. Fuck. You never thought you would be recognized.

The head delinquent’s smirk only grew larger as the displeasure boiled over into calls for Toman’s death, and he made to grab at your arm. “You’re quite the cute thing. Those fuckers have good taste. I think I’ll have some fun fir-”

A loud crack! - and you whirled around to the sight of a delinquent crumpling to the ground, clearly having lost consciousness. And there was Koko, calmly withdrawing his fist, simply not having the disrespect. “I rather you pick on someone your own size,” he stated, as if it was another usual day.

Time seemed to have frozen for a second, with the rest of the delinquents present turning almost robotically to glance between Koko and their downed buddy, the moment bringing with it an unexpected peace. But alas, it did not last as pandemonium quickly broke back out, the hoodlums sent into an uproar. “I WANT BOTH OF THEM DEAD!” The gang leader roared.

Koko shoved you. “Run!” He yelled, as he started beating down whoever he could reach. “Get to safety!”

You took off, drawing half the crowd with you, that distinctive side-swept mob of black hair quickly disappearing behind a wall. Fuck.

‎

Shit shit shit- your feet were all but flying over the pavement at this point as you sprinted down the street as fast as you could, taking random rights and lefts in an attempt to shake off your pursuers. But alas, enraged delinquents weren’t as easy to lose as you had hoped, and the stomp of their boots echoing behind you only ate away at your gut more and more. The light of the streetlamps overhead flashed and disappeared as you bolted through each and every circle of illumination, the environment all but a blur - you were sure you were completely lost at this point, though all your mind was urging you to just keep running.

What on earth were you going to do now? What could you do?

Your thoughts wandered back to Koko whom you had abandoned on the main street as you took another shark right, and your heart clenched, the guilt already starting to gnaw away at your gut. The last glimpse you had, he had been surrounded by so many of those fierce delinquents; yes, he had taken one of those builds down easily, but with opponents of such numbers? Maybe you should have stayed, but you didn’t want Koko to have to not only fight but also watch over a useless you. And, you tried to reason, with you running off, you at least have managed to draw some of the crowd away to chase after you.

But now that you were on the run, easily recognized by the self-declared rivals of the Tokyo Manji Gang, you were no doubt only creating more trouble for Mikey and the rest of your friends. No matter what you decided, no matter what you did, you only seemed to drag more and more people you claim to care about into the mess that was your life.

Turning down yet another side alley, your lungs were beginning to burn from effort, every breath you took becoming heavier and heavier as your calves yearned for relief. You couldn’t recall the last time you had to assert such consistent effort, but you urged yourself on, forcing yourself past your limits as the adrenaline rush slowly ebbed away. You needed a place to hide and rest, somewhere safe - but where could you go?

Bursting out back onto a main street, it was a familiar white awning that caught the corner of your eye, and though now folded up, you could recognize the partially hidden words and logo anywhere. S.S Motor…you weren’t sure if anyone was still in the shop at this time of night, but it wasn’t like you really had any other choice now. The white awning was calling to you as if it was your salvation as you closed the distance in under a minute, slamming straight into the locked front door. Damn. The door wasn’t going to give way no matter the amount of desperate rattling, and you should have known better, yet here you were, wasting precious time.

Letting go of the worn brass handle, it was the bloodthirsty calls for your blood growing nearer and nearer, accompanied by thunderous footsteps, that had you hesitate to leave the minute safety that the indent of the shop doors allowed you, with each precious second passing decreasing the amount you would have had to continue your escape. But even if you wanted to, your body was already at the point of giving up - you were physically incapable of running any further, your legs urging you to give up as you doubled over, pressing your hands against your knees in a bid to catch your breath. This was it, you supposed. You were going to make more trouble for Mikey and the rest, and probably get beat up in the process.

You took a deep breath, steeling your nerves, and turned around. No, this was not the end. You weren’t going to give up so easily and disgrace your Toman friends here. You had fists just like them after all, you could at least put up some resistance.

The click of a lock opening had relief that flooded into your system when your name was called by a recognizable name. Looking down at you with furrowed abyss eyes was none other than Shinichiro, that signature bluish-gray overalls of his tied still around his waist, spanner in hand. “What ya doing here at this time?”

”Chased,” was all you could hurriedly say in the time you had, as you glanced backwards at a roar that sounded just a turn away. “CanIcomeinplease?”

Shinichiro seemed to understand almost immediately. “Hide and call the police,” he grimaced, holding the door open and allowing you duck in under his arm. But much to your surprise, the older man didn’t follow you inside, instead stepping outside to block the path and line of sight of the horde of delinquents who have finally caught up to you. “Can I help you?”

Scurrying behind a motorcycle and rolling up into a ball in an attempt to make yourself smaller, your shaking hands could barely grasp your small phone without almost instantly dropping it, and you struggled to make sense of the keypad through teary eyes as you followed the commotion outside through the commotion alone, scared to give any visible indication of your presence to the angry gangsters outside.

Demands for Shinichiro to step aside, to bring you out to them, the threats of death and torture, and all the while the man was attempting to calm the mob and diffuse the situation. He was depending on you, you tried to tell yourself, finally punching in the emergency hotline, the dialing and connecting noises sounding as if they were echoing through the whole shop and not just in your ear, as if those ruthless hooligans outside could hear.

But they must have sensed your panic, your fear like a predator in the dark woods. A scuffle, and your heart sank like an anchor as a loud clunk rang out through the dead silence of the night, followed by the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the ground. Grabbing the nearest tool, you flung yourself out from your hiding spot, and sprinted towards the shop exit.

‎

Your hands were still shaking as the blue and red lights of emergency responders illuminated the once-quiet neighborhood around you, the foil blanket that the paramedics had wrapped around you doing little to stop the cold from seeping in. Seated just outside of the parameter of the yellow crime scene tape that now lined the parameter of S.S Motor, you barely registered the policeman attempting to talk to you to get your witness statement, his words flowing like water past you, reverberating into an inaudible distant mess in your head. Those lifeless eyes were all you could see, that accusatory stare that haunted you no matter how hard you tried to push it away. The ambulance had already taken your victim away, the first responders claiming that he was still breathing and that they could still save him, but Shinichiro-san?

He was already cold when the first sirens arrived.

And it was in this broken state that Mikey finally stumbled across you, his phone gripped tight in one hand. Black, empty eyes wide with what could only be shock as he took in the chaos that had unfolded outside of his older brother’s shop, his gaze eventually falling on you, a trembling and responseless form on the sidewalk, a splatter of blood across your once-pristine clothes. In an instant, the Toman President had pulled you to your feet and straight into a tight hug, your face pressed tight into the crook of his neck, much to the surprise of the officer.

He didn’t need to say more. The last of whatever control you had left fell apart, and the tears trailed down your face, the hiccups uncontrollable. “M-mikey,” you wailed into his skin, your fingers gripping the back of his shirt as the past hour flashed in the back of your eyes. “I-I’m-”

“What happened?” The blond-haired boy’s hair was soft, hoarse, the disbelief clearly tinting his words. It couldn’t be Shinichiro underneath that cover, could it? It couldn’t be. But that call, this scene.

“I killed him,” you whispered out, pulling away, as you looked back down at your trembling hands. “H-he attacked Shinichiro-san, so I…I-”

There was only one covered body, yet two weapons. Mikey pulled away, eyes staring at you, trying to read your thoughts. You couldn’t have killed Shinichiro-san; so who?

Those five minutes were burned into your mind. You standing from behind the motorbike to find one of the delinquents with a blood-splattered steel pipe in hand, and Shinichiro sprawled out on the pavement right in front of his shop, the blood trickling down the side of his head; something washing over you as you had grabbed the heavy wrench with two hands and bursting through the shop doors, swinging the tool with all your might. The connecting blow that reverberated through your bones, and the other continuing to stand for a moment longer, swaying, staring blankly at you before crumpling to the floor. The rest of the ruffians dispersed as the authorities approached, leaving you behind trying desperately to administer first aid and CPR to Shinichiro, all the while fervently trying to ignore the other boy downed by your hand.

“I killed him,” you mumbled again, your voice haunted as the tears flowed once more. “I-I didn’t mean to- I swear-”

But the last thing Mikey could care about now was some nobody. “What happened to Shinichiro?” He repeated, this time more firmly, both hands gripping you and pinning your arms to your side. “Why him?”

“Protecting me. Th-they’ve seen me with Toman…”

Mikey audibly snarled. “And why were you here? Why aren’t you at home?!” The boy all but shouted at you, shaking you vigorously. You couldn’t blame him. It was all your fault.

Your mind jumped to Koko, where you had left him fighting that group of gangsters back along the shopping street. You couldn’t get another into trouble - not when you had committed the ultimate sin. And with the turmoil boiling in your stomach, you did something you never thought you had the stomach to. The tears started once more as you pressed your face into Mikey’s jacket, fist clenching around the white fabric. “Was looking for a job so I-I can move out,” the lie slipped out from your lips, each word burning your tongue as you mumbled out. “Th-they said they pay well.”

A murderer. You thought you would be better, better than the clusterfuck that was your family. You had tried to be better, striving to be kind, thoughtful, open-hearted. Yet here you were, you thought bitterly. The rotten apple doesn’t fall far from the tree after all.

The policeman seemed to have heard enough, one strong hand coming to rest on your shoulder as the other shook Mikey off of you. “You need to come with me to the station.”

A liar and a murderer.

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