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ankababy · 3 hours ago

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A Home (part 23)

Part 1 Part 22

Chishiya x reader x Niragi

Finally someone who sees your potential.

Then, still in the middle of the party, a guy came towards you. He was an executive, someone important in the Beach’s little hierarchy, but he wasn’t someone you needed to know deeply. Not yet, at least.

“Niragi.” the guy started, his voice smooth. “There’s an executive meeting called. Hatter wants you there. He also requested that—” His eyes flicked to you. “—you join us.”

You felt a little spark of excitement. You didn’t know what the meeting was about or why Hatter wanted you specifically there, but your curiosity was piqued. Plus, there was something thrilling about being called into a room full of power, to be part of whatever they were planning. And if it involved you, well, you were always up for it.

“Great.” Niragi muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for anyone to hear, but you did. You always did.

The guy just stood there, silent for a moment longer, before a sigh slipped past his lips.

“You happy now?” Niragi muttered, voice low. It wasn’t a question aimed at you, not really.

You nodded cheerfully, too oblivious or too excited to notice the tension in his voice. “Yeah, of course!” you said, your smile bright and infectious as always.

The executive glanced at you briefly again, clearly a little surprised at how easily you took the news. He probably expected you to hesitate, question the sudden call, maybe even challenge the order. But no.

Niragi, though, didn’t seem to share your enthusiasm. He looked away, his jaw tightening, and you could practically feel his mood souring by the second.

“Fine.” he said finally, his voice dripping with something close to sarcasm.

But the way he said it didn’t sound like he meant it. It sounded like he was resigned to something he didn’t want to deal with. You saw the corner of his lip curl, a little sneer forming, but he made no attempt to fight the order.

The executive didn’t seem to care about Niragi’s attitude, nodding. “Good. We’ll be waiting for you both in the meeting room.” he said, then turned and walked off without another word.

Niragi let out another annoyed sigh. This one was louder, and the scowl on his face deepened. You couldn’t quite figure out why he was so upset. The fact that you were called too, or something else entirely?

“I don’t know why I bother.” he muttered under his breath, too low for anyone else to hear, but loud enough for you to catch.

You tilted your head, sensing the weird shift in his mood, but you didn’t say anything. You didn’t want to poke at it. Instead, you flashed a smile.

“Come on. It’ll be fun.” you said lightly.

He didn’t respond immediately. Just a sneer before he rubbed the back of his neck, irritated. He didn’t want to go. That much was obvious. But it didn’t matter. He had to.

You smiled at him and took a step closer, ready to head off.

Niragi followed as if the entire situation was a chore he couldn’t avoid, but it wasn’t like you cared about his mood—at least not right now. There was an adventure waiting ahead of you, and you weren’t going to let anything, least of all Niragi’s grumpy attitude, get in the way of it.

You were seated in Niragi’s chair again. He just stood behind you, close enough to cast a shadow over your shoulder, hovering over the Beach’s favorite little sunbeam.

You didn’t belong here, not really. Not by title, not by rank. But you were there.

Dressed in pale pink and still damp from the pool, legs crossed delicately, your hair pulled back in a messy clip that somehow made you look even more ethereal, you sat like you didn’t have the faintest idea how much power you suddenly had. There was the unmistakable shape of Niragi’s teeth on your collarbone, half-visible just under the strap of your swimsuit. No one commented on it. No one had to.

Your presence was a statement.

Everyone watched you, and of course, Hatter himself. Eyes flicking between everyone but always returning to you. He was smiling, as he often did, that same half-manic, half-enlightened grin that made people both love and fear him.

“Quite the turnout.” Hatter said, finally, as he spread his arms like a showman presenting his finale. “And with a new guest of honor.”

He gestured to you, and several eyes—again—cut toward the bite on your collarbone.

You smiled, sweetly, innocently, as if the eyes crawling over your skin didn’t mean anything. As if you didn’t feel Niragi standing behind you, hands twitching slightly, like he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to pull your chair back or punch a hole through the wall.

“Thanks for inviting me.” you said, chipper, folding your hands neatly on the table. You sounded like someone who’d just been asked to tea. Not like someone sitting in on a meeting of killers and tacticians.

Mira let out a soft laugh, delighted. “You’re very composed.”

You tilted your head slightly. “I just like knowing things.” you said. “And I’m pretty good at listening.”

At that, Chishiya shifted slightly, just enough to glance at you out of the corner of his eye. No smile. But there was something else. Recognition. You were good at listening. Too good. He hadn’t decided yet if that was a problem.

“I thought this was a strategy meeting.” Aguni grunted, leaning forward. “Not a tea party.”

Aguni, c’mon, we know you like Y/N too. Who doesn’t?

Ann cut him a quick look but said nothing. She was watching you too carefully to interrupt.

“It is.” Hatter said, still smiling. “But the girl’s proved herself useful. Delivering messages, gathering intel, talking to the right people. She’s got connections that none of us do. Even the dumb ones like her.” He winked at you, and you laughed, like it really was a tea party.

But Niragi—behind you—did not laugh. He just shifted, once.

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. Not for you, anyway. You were too busy watching everyone, your big eyes bouncing from face to face, absorbing everything. The games, the plays, the war behind every line of dialogue. You had no idea what cards they were playing, but you were the one everyone was looking at, and wasn’t that something?

Chishiya leaned forward slightly, his eyes on Hatter. “What’s the purpose of this meeting?”

Hatter clapped his hands once, sharply. “To make sure we’re all on the same page. Card collection. Border progress. Internal control.”

You listened. You weren’t dumb. You leaned back just a bit, letting your shoulder rest against the armrest of Niragi’s chair, unconsciously claiming space like you had every right to be there.

And Niragi stayed behind you.

He hated this. Not you. Never you. But the way people looked at you. The way Hatter smiled at you like he owned your time. The way Mira cooed at you like you were a doll she could pick apart at the seams. The way Chishiya’s eyes lingered too long. Niragi wanted to put a bullet between everyone’s eyes.

But he said nothing.

Because none of them, not even him, could take their eyes off you.

The meeting rolled on from that point. Hatter spoke in half preacher, half CEO.

You sat there, legs crossed, arms neatly folded in your lap, nodding when appropriate, silent and smiling as though you belonged in every room like this. And in a way, you did. You had that impossible, golden kind of presence—one that made people listen to you, not because of power or fear, but because you meant it when you spoke. Because your eyes never lied, and your mouth always had something sweet to say, even when everything around you was violent and twisted.

But that didn’t mean you were stupid.

Far from it.

You watched everyone. Every twitch, every blink, every little tell from every person around the table.

You loved them. All of them, in different ways. Not romantically, not really—though the lines blurred there, didn’t they?

Especially with those two.

Chishiya and Niragi.

Your boys. Your… favorite tragedies.

You knew what they were. Not in some naive, cutesy way—but deeply, intimately. You understood them better than they thought. Maybe better than they did.

You had seen that crack in Chishiya. The one he didn’t want to show. When you fell asleep beside him back at the apartment, or held his hand in the hallway, or smiled too long while asking him therapist questions. He wasn’t made for soft things like you. And yet… he didn’t pull away. Not really. Because maybe some part of him wanted to be studied by you. He just wanted to be understood. He longed to be understood.

And Niragi—fuck. Rage and need, teetering on the edge of self-destruction. He was sick in the head and he knew it, used it like a weapon. He didn’t understand softness, but he understood you. You who were soft but not weak. Gentle but not passive. You didn’t flinch from him. You touched his face like he was a boy who maybe just wanted to be loved.

That fucked him up worse than anything.

So yeah. You watched the room with wide, sparkly eyes like you were a butterfly in a war room. But you were playing the game too. Just in your own way.

Hatter leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head as he spoke, “We’re close. One day, we’ll have enough cards to make our final push.”

“Final push for what?” you asked, voice soft, genuinely curious.

There was a pause. Not tense.

“To complete the deck.” Kuzuryu said evenly. “To see what happens.”

“To win.” Hatter said, eyes gleaming. “Whatever that means. Emigrate.”

You nodded, processing, your mind working even as you smiled. You glanced over at Chishiya. He was watching Hatter with the same look he might give a poorly written math problem. Dismissive. Already moving five steps ahead.

Niragi leaned forward slightly behind you, hands braced on the back of the chair. You could feel the heat of him.

The conversation moved to logistics. Manpower. Intel. Control. You let it wash over you, tucking away every detail, cataloging expressions, voices, like a librarian.

You were happy here, in a weird, broken kind of way. Among the chaos. Among these monsters and maniacs. You never quite fit in with the normal world anyway. You were too much of something. Too soft, too kind, too weird, too alive.

But here?

Here you were worshiped. Or wanted. Or both.

And even if they didn’t say it—Chishiya and Niragi both wanted you. In different ways. In dark ways.

Niragi wanted to own you, protect you like a rabid dog guarding the one hand that didn’t hit him. You were the only softness in his scorched world, the only thing he didn’t want to destroy. And that terrified him more than anything.

Chishiya didn’t want to care about you. But he did. You were this beautiful mess of feelings and chaos, all the things he’d surgically removed from himself to survive. And now? He was starting to wonder if maybe he’d made a mistake.

The meeting began to wind down, voices growing quieter, more tired. Hatter gave a final flourish with his hands, “Well, then. Let’s keep the pieces moving. And let’s hope we survive long enough to see the end.”

People stood. Some filed out. Others lingered.

You stayed seated a moment longer, glancing up at Niragi with a little grin, tilting your head. “You okay?”

He didn’t answer, just looked down at you with eyes like gasoline fire and something else. Something that scared him too much to name.

You stood, slowly, smoothing your light skirt(AN: I see Y/N always wearing some light, see thru, pretty clothing above the bikini. Just to be cute.) giving a nod to the rest of the room. “Thanks for letting me sit in.”

“You can sit in again.” Hatter said, clearly pleased.

“She’s not a fucking executive.” Niragi muttered under his breath.

But he didn’t stop you.

You had started to turn, your soft smile ready for anyone else you passed on the way out, ready to float back into the madness outside and play the same part you always played—kind, beautiful. But then—

“Not you.” Hatter said smoothly. “Stay.”

And just like that, the air in the room changed.

Every pair of eyes landed on you again. Yours flicked up, curious, but not confused. If anything, you looked almost pleased to be asked. You turned back, gently as always, your expression bright and open.

Niragi’s jaw twitched.

Chishiya didn’t move a muscle, but you could feel it.

“Alone.” Hatter clarified, flicking his gaze lazily to the rest of the room.

No one protested. No one dared—not even Niragi, who, for a second, looked like he might say something. But Hatter didn’t even glance his way. He didn’t have to. Power bent the space around him like gravity. And Niragi might be the firestarter, but even fire needed oxygen. Hatter was the one who decided who breathed here.

Niragi rolled his eyes and scoffed under his breath, turning on his heel. Chishiya didn’t look at you—just shoved his hands into his pockets and slipped out like a shadow. You watched them both go, not saying a word, not asking them to stay.

You knew better. Knew when not to interfere. You were sweet, not stupid.

And once the door clicked shut, the world felt like it had changed color. The stillness was different now. Warmer. Stranger.

You turned your gaze back to Hatter, smiling softly as you stepped forward, your little platform sandals making little quiet noises against the floor. You didn’t sit in the chair again. You slid onto the table instead—right in front of him, ankles crossed, skirt falling neatly over your knees.

“You wanted to talk to me?” you asked.

“I always want to talk to you.” Hatter said, smiling like a man who had everything. “But yes. This time, specifically.”

You tilted your head, all attention. “About what?”

He leaned back. “You’re very loved, you know.”

Your eyebrows lifted, but you didn’t answer right away. Your hands rested beside you on the smooth tabletop, the bite mark on your collarbone visible like some badge.

“You’re like sunshine in this godless place,” he continued. “and sunshine is dangerous when you’re trying to control the weather.”

You smiled gently. “That was poetic.”

“I’m a poetic man.”

“I think you’re an ambitious man.”

“And what do you think you are?”

You paused. Thought about it. “I think I don’t fully understand everything.” you said honestly. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not watching.”

Hatter’s smile was warm. “I don’t underestimate you, little star.”

“I don’t underestimate you either.”

He studied you for a long moment, eyes roaming your face. You didn’t flinch under the weight of it. You didn’t try to flirt or joke your way out of the tension like you did with so many others. Here, you were open. Still sweet. But still.

“Do you love them?” he asked suddenly. Not cruelly. Not sharply. Just… honestly. The way one might ask about the weather.

You didn’t pretend not to understand.

Your lips curved softly. “I do.” you said. “I think I could love anyone, if they gave me enough time.”

“And if they’re monsters?”

“Then I’ll find something in them that isn’t.” you said, lifting your eyes. “Even if it’s just a tiny piece.”

Hatter exhaled, like the answer pleased him.

There was a pause. One where he didn’t speak, and neither did you.

“You don’t belong to anyone, do you?” Hatter asked.

“No.” you said.

He nodded, slow, thoughtful. “But they want you to. Both of them.”

You gave the tiniest shrug, your eyes flicking to the door. “Let them want. I’m not something to put in a cage.”

Another pause. And then, a laugh. Low and genuine. “You’re going to burn this whole place down, aren’t you?”

Your smiled, soft and honest. “I hope not. I like it here.”

You just let the quiet settle again, your legs swinging gently off the table, brushing the polished surface like a child on a park bench, casual and harmless and completely disarming.

Hatter hadn’t moved either, head slightly tilted as if you were something fascinating in a museum. Not to possess, no—he knew better than to believe you could ever be possessed. But maybe… to keep close. To admire.

“You’re thinking something.” you said softly.

“I’m always thinking something.”

You tilted your head in that gentle, playful way you did—and your eyes turned a little sharper. A little brighter. You let your fingers trail across the edge of the table, like you were tracing out invisible thoughts in the wood.

“I could teach you something.” you said, as though offering a cookie.

He raised a brow, amused. “Oh? What’s that?”

“How to get what you want without making people feel like they’re being taken.” you said sweetly. “How to make them love you for it.”

“I already know how to manipulate people, sweetheart.” he said, smiling as he sat up straighter.

“Mm, I know. But you do it like a king, not like a god.” You paused. “Kings command. Gods are adored.”

That made him still. You could see it—the flicker in his expression, the small curl of interest tightening at the corners of his mouth. He didn’t laugh at that. Didn’t wave it off.

You turned slightly to face him better, leaning forward on your hands just a little, eyes wide. “You’ve got the power.” you said. “You’ve got the clothes and the voice and the throne. You’re magnetic, Hatter. But you’re also trying too hard.”

He let out a quiet, amused breath. “So I’m not a god yet?”

“No.” you said, with that gentle kindness you always carried. “But you could be.”

The silence that followed hung between you like a held breath. And then, slowly, like it was the most natural thing in the world, he reached out and placed his hand on your thigh.

Just above the knee.

And you didn’t move away. Your body remained soft, warm, calm. You didn’t even blink. Your eyes simply dropped to his hand, then up to his face again. Still smiling.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t justify it.

You just laughed a little under your breath and said, “See? You’re already using the tools I’m handing you.”

His fingers tensed slightly. “You think this is a tool?”

“I think everything is a tool.” you replied easily. “Words. Looks. Hands. Especially hands.”

And for a long moment, neither of you spoke. His fingers remained there, unmoving. Your leg stayed relaxed under his touch. And your eyes—so wide and sweet—were not innocent at all.

You weren’t flirting. Not really. You weren’t manipulating him either, not the way others might think. What you were doing was far more subtle. You were showing him the blueprint. Of people. Of power. Of what worked.

You were still just being sweet, helping him. Helping him to get what he wants.

“Tell me,” you said, gently. “what are you really trying to build here?”

“A kingdom.” he answered. No hesitation.

“And what’s a kingdom without people who’d die for their king?”

He smiled, slow and strange. “You think I should be loved?”

“I think if you want to last, you’ll have to be.”

“And you?” he asked, voice dropping a fraction. “Would you die for me?”

“No.” you said. “But I’d make everyone else want to.”

God, you were terrifying in the kindest way.

He exhaled like you’d just opened a new door in his mind. And still, his hand stayed where it was—not moving, not pushing, just… resting. Warm.

“You should smile more.” you told him kindly. “You’ve got a really good smile. But people are scared of it.”

“They should be.”

You giggled. “Maybe. But wouldn’t it be more fun if they smiled with you while you crushed them?”

He actually laughed then. Low and real.

Another silence. Comfortable this time.

Then, you turned your head slightly and said, “If I were you, I’d move that blonde executive guy piece soon. I don’t know his name, but you sure do. He’s good, but he’ll waver if you let him sit too long. He’s restless.”

“And what about you?” he asked, voice dipped in curiosity again. “What would you do with you?”

You smiled. “I’d give me attention. Trust. A little space to feel important.”

“Anything else?”

You looked him right in the eyes. “Nothing else.”

He didn’t reply. Just looked at you. Maybe for the first time, he was seeing you—really seeing you—for what you were.

A field of poppies that made men sleep forever.

The softest threat in the world.

He stood then, offering you a hand. “Go on, little star.” he said. “Go shine on someone else.”

You took it, light as a feather. “Thank you.” you said sweetly, standing with grace. “I like talking to you.”

He bent down, just slightly, and kissed the back of your hand. Not flirtation. Not seduction. Respect.

“You’ll do fine.” you said sweetly. “But if you need help… you know where to find me.”

And with that, you turned and left—the door swinging closed behind you like the end of an era.

He didn’t stop you.

He just stood there, thinking of gods.

Niragi was leaning against the wall when you stepped out. Just to the right of the door, half-shadowed by the dim hallway light. Gun over his shoulder, like he hadn’t been waiting at all. But you knew better.

Niragi didn’t wait for people.

He hunted them.

But there he was. Waiting. For you.

You smiled—so soft, so damn sweet it could knock the wind out of someone if they weren’t braced for it. The kind of smile that made people want to be good. Or worse, pretend they already were.

“There you are.” you said gently, like he wasn’t the one who had been lingering in the hallway like a phantom for who-knows-how-long. “Did you hear anything through the door? Are you here to interrogate me?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just looked at you with something tight in his jaw, like the sight of you physically hurt. His eyes dropped to the faint red bite mark on your collarbone, still visible above the fabric of your bikini top and your little throw-on wrap.

He put that there. And it looked so good on you.

“Wasn’t eavesdropping.” he muttered, pushing off the wall. “Not my style.”

You tilted your head. “Sure it is. You just make it look cooler.”

He didn’t even crack a smirk. He looked annoyed you knew him that well. Like that was more intimate than anything physical could be.

You started walking, and he followed. Of course he did.

He always did.

You didn’t look back, but you knew his footsteps by now.

“Were you bored while I was inside?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder finally, all cheek and light.

He didn’t say anything for a second, just walked beside you now. Closer than before. Your arms brushed once. His eyes flicked to that spot like it betrayed something.

“…What did he want?”

You glanced up at him. “Hatter?”

“No, the fuckin’ frog on your table.” he said dryly. “Yes, Hatter.”

“He wanted to talk. Just me and him.”

Niragi’s tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek. His jaw flexed, hands curling slightly at his sides. But you kept your voice soft, disarming.

“He likes me.” you added gently. “That’s all.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” he muttered under his breath.

You reached out suddenly, without thinking, and touched his hand. Just your fingertips grazing over his knuckles.

“And you don’t?” you asked, lips curving.

He jerked his hand away, barely. But not in the usual way—not violent or disgusted, just… scared. Like you burned hotter than his own fire and it terrified him how much he wanted to stay close to it.

“Don’t start with me.” he warned.

“I’m not starting anything.” you said, walking again. “You came to me.”

He didn’t deny it.

You were the sun. You were the goddamn sun in this place. And he hated it. Hated that you made his teeth grit just by existing. That you smiled at other people and meant it. That you touched him like he was something good.

He hated that he wanted to be good, just for you.

He hated how impossible that was.

“Let’s walk a little more.” you said softly, brushing your shoulder into his.

He let you. Didn’t snap. Didn’t move away.

You kept talking, not about the meeting, not about the cards, not about plans. You talked about the shape of the clouds outside the window earlier. About how the light hit the pool just right this morning, like glass. You told him weren’t sure what you’d do if your frog and lobster started fighting.

He listened. He really did. He didn’t say much, but you felt it in the way his walking matched yours now. In how his shoulders relaxed by a fraction. In how his eyes flicked sideways at you and stayed there longer than they should have.

“The bite.” he said suddenly. “Everyone fucking saw it.”

You looked down at it and gently pressed your fingers to the bruised skin, then smiled. “Oh. That. Well, yeah. You left it. What, want me to put a Band Aid over it?”

He looked like he wanted to snarl. Or maybe drag you into the nearest wall. Not to hurt you—no. He’d never hurt you. But to claim something. Make it impossible for people to look at you without remembering who got there first.

“You shouldn’t let people stare.” he muttered.

“They stare no matter what.” you said softly.

You were right. Of course you were.

Everyone stared. Everyone wanted you.

And he knew, deep in that fucked-up little heart of his, that you were too much for this place. Too good. Too soft. Too fucking perfect.

But still, somehow, you walked beside him.

Like he was worthy of that.

Like you chose it.

And Niragi had never been chosen. Not once. Not until now.

He didn’t reach for your hand. He couldn’t.

But he walked beside you, and when you bumped your shoulder into him again—barely, barely there—he didn’t move away. He stayed close. Like he’d burn down the world if you asked.

And maybe you would. You, with your laugh and your little frog.

Maybe one day you’d ask.

And he’d be ready.

You didn’t say anything for a little while. Just walked.

The hallways were nearly empty now, the moon and the party lights bleeding in through the windows, but you glowed more. And Niragi walked beside you like some fucking feral animal on a leash made of pink ribbons and sugar—and he hated it, and he loved it, and he hated that he loved it.

The way your fingers brushed the walls sometimes as you passed. The way your hair bounced a little with every step. The way you hummed under your breath, no real tune, just the sound of you filling up the silence.

He could’ve killed you for that.

He could’ve dropped to his knees.

He could’ve done both in the same second.

He stole a glance at you—not a glance, really. It was more like a gaze, hungry and territorial and scared all at once. You didn’t notice. You were too busy rambling again, about how the ceiling tiles were weirdly shaped in one hallway and how the water in the kitchen tap tasted slightly like lavender, and that you thought someone had stolen one of your lip glosses, but it was okay because you had, like, five more in your drawer.

And every single word felt like you were threading soft little thorns through his ribcage, stringing them tighter and tighter until he could barely breathe.

He wanted to ruin you. No—cover you. Drown you in him, like his mark on your collarbone wasn’t nearly enough. He wanted to rip your sweet voice in half with his mouth. To be the only one you talked to like that. To be the only one who got to see your stupid little smile.

He thought about your room. That big fancy space he got you, and you somehow made soft and warm with your dumb frog tank and your glittery hair clips and your weird fucking lobster.

He thought about the way your perfume smelled on his clothes after he touched you.

He thought about you in that fucking bikini. Not just how you looked in it—fuck, you looked good—but the fact that you smiled like that at someone else while wearing it. The way other people looked at you like you were some prize, like they had a chance. Like they could even dream of being wanted by you.

He wanted to break all of them. Right in front of you.

Not because he didn’t want you to talk to people—no, he liked that. He loved that. Loved watching people orbit you, beg for your attention, try to make you laugh. Because in the end, it was always him you walked back to.

Niragi—violent, blood-coated, trigger-happy Niragi—was utterly owned by someone soft. By someone who could spend the morning naming her animals and the evening giving advice to the most powerful man on the Beach, and still find time to pat him on the chest like he was something worth touching.

He was diseased with it.

You were beautiful. Not just in your face or your body—he didn’t give a shit about that kind of beautiful. It was in the way you made people around you human, even the ones who didn’t deserve to be.

You were the only soft thing in this place he didn’t want to destroy.

He hated that, too.

“Hey.” you said, breaking the silence again. “You’re quiet.”

He blinked, dragged himself back from whatever sick shrine of you he’d just built in his head. “You’re loud.”

You laughed. “Fair. Where are we going?”

He didn’t even know.

Didn’t care.

“Anywhere.” he said.

You nodded like that was good enough. Like walking next to a loaded gun with a god complex was your daily treat. Like you weren’t just safe, but right here.

Like you belonged.

And Niragi felt it again—that twist in his stomach, the sharp ache of wanting something he didn’t think he was supposed to have. Not even sex. You. The way you looked at him like he wasn’t broken beyond repair. The way you touched him like it was okay that he was a fucking monster.

You weren’t stupid.

You knew what he was.

And you still smiled at him like this.

He clenched his jaw, turned his head so you wouldn’t see whatever expression was about to crawl up his face. It wasn’t a smile. Wasn’t a frown. It was something monstrous and devoted and absolutely feral. Like something rabid guarding its first real treasure.

“You okay?” you asked softly, catching it anyway.

No. He wasn’t. Not even close.

But he looked down at you and nodded.

He wasn’t gentle. Not with anyone. Not with anything.

He barked, spit, bit, dragged people by the collar when he wanted something. Respect, loyalty, obedience—he took it all through fear. Controlled it. Crushed it. That was how you stayed on top here. You didn’t ask for space. You carved it out with bullets and bodies.

You had never lifted a weapon. You never needed to.

You never needed to. (Unless he was the one who put it in your hands)

Because the world carved itself out for you.

And Niragi… he was part of that world now, folding for you in ways he didn’t understand and didn’t want to look at too hard. Because when you smiled at him—when you tilted your head, glowing dumb and soft and sweet like it wasn’t him standing there, like you didn’t know what he’d done with those hands—it made something in him kneel.

And he hated it.

But he couldn’t stop.

The way he let you slide into his seat at the executive meeting, legs crossed as if you belonged there—that should’ve pissed him off. That should’ve made him grab you by the wrist and pull you away, because that was his. His chair. His name. His place.

But he didn’t.

He just stood behind you, teeth grinding, eyes locked on the soft curve of your back, your shoulders, that ridiculous collarbone he’d marked with his own mouth like a wild fucking animal. He hadn’t even realized what he was doing when he let you sit—it was automatic.

It was instinct.

Any other girl, he’d have dragged back up by her hair. But you? He stood behind you like you were something sacred, like you were meant to be looked at.

Worshipped.

And when someone talked over you during that meeting—someone who clearly didn’t understand that you were there because the king said so—Niragi’s hand had twitched toward his gun.

Just a twitch.

But it was real.

He didn’t pull it, because you were there.

Because you were the only leash that ever sat comfortably around his throat.

You could say something as dumb as “lobster” and suddenly the chaos in his brain would quiet like a lullaby. He didn’t understand it. Couldn’t wrap his head around it. You were nothing like him—not cold, not cruel, not jagged and cracked from the inside out.

And maybe that was why he couldn’t stop looking.

Because in a place like this you were still soft. Still smiling. Still offering advice to Hatter, and you were sweet enough to kiss someone’s cheek after a win.

And Niragi?

He wanted to fall apart under your hands.

He wanted to press his forehead to your stomach and stay there.

He wanted to crawl inside your skin and make sure no one else could have you.

He didn’t say that, obviously.

No. What he said was—“You always talk this much?”

And you’d smiled—beamed, really—and said, “Only when I like the company.”

He didn’t know what to do with that.

Didn’t know what to do with the way that made his stomach twist and clench and ache, like you’d laced something sharp and warm through his ribs and yanked.

So he said nothing. Let the words rot in his mouth like cherries gone too sweet.

But the truth?

He would’ve killed for you.

He would’ve lined the entire Beach with bodies and fire if someone so much as made you cry.

And not just because you were beautiful.

Not just because you looked good in that ridiculous bikini, soft and glowing and untouchable.

But because you were his beautiful.

You just didn’t know it yet.

And maybe he didn’t know how to tell you.

But his actions did. His silence behind your chair. The way he let you tug him by the wrist like he was just another pretty accessory to your night. The fact that he hadn’t blown any guy’s face off for looking at you wrong.

You didn’t know what it meant when a man like Niragi let you do something.

But he did.

And it was terrifying.

Because the thing about monsters is they don’t give—they keep. They cage. They burn anything that tries to take what’s theirs.

And Niragi was a monster, through and through.

But for you?

He might’ve become a temple.

One that worshipped quietly, obsessively, and with loaded guns.

And all you had to do was smile.

Worship. What a dumb word.

Niragi thought it tasted cheap. Too soft on the tongue, too close to the things he hated—kneeling, begging, bleeding for something other than violence. He was a fucking killer, not a monk. And yet, there was no other word that truly fit the way he looked at you.

Worship. Obsession. Possession.

Take your pick.

He’d never call it that out loud. He’d rather put a bullet through his own skull than admit it in those terms. But the way his hands twitched when someone looked at you too long, the way he watched you from doorways, from balconies, from shadows with the cigarette burning down between his fingers… yeah.

It was worship.

Chishiya did it too. You just didn’t see it. He wore his devotion with a scalpel’s precision—never touching, never speaking it, but letting it hang in the air between you both. You didn’t even need to smile at him. Just exist. That was enough.

And Kuina—poor fucking Kuina—she tried not to want it. She really did. But even she wasn’t immune to that gravitational pull you carried around with you. The softness. The goddamn glow. The way you touched people like they weren’t already covered in blood and ruin.

But only one of them had you now. And it was Niragi.

You stood wrapped in his blanket on his balcony, the air clinging to your skin, hair messy from sleep, eyes squinting at the soft sunlight. You looked human. Not otherworldly, not the usual radiant little thing floating through the halls of the Beach like the goddamn messiah. Just… you.

And for a moment, he hated how much he liked that.

He smoked without speaking, elbows leaned on the cold metal railing, the cigarette barely staying in his fingers from how hard his grip was clenched. You stood next to him, barefoot, sleepy, the blanket hanging off your shoulder in a way that showed off the curve of your neck—the same one he’d bitten last night with too much hunger and not enough shame.

The mark was there. Still red. Still his.

You hadn’t tried to hide it.

And fuck, that did something to him.

He didn’t talk, but you did. Of course you did.

You always talked. About the seagulls. About how the sky looked different from this side of the building. About how you liked the breeze and how it smelled like soap and salt and something old. About how his room was “so unfairly nice.”

And how you’d looked for him this morning.

He had no idea what to do with that information.

You told him you’d padded through the halls, looking for him. Him. Of all people. With your arms folded over your chest, still half-asleep. And when you found him in his room, he let you in.

That’s how you ended up here. On his balcony. Wearing his blanket. Talking too much.

And he let you. Because it was you.

He kept his eyes trained on the horizon. Pretended he wasn’t listening when you mentioned saving another bug. Or when you said you’d been thinking of naming the frog. Or when you asked, very seriously, if lobsters had dreams.

You were insane. And perfect.

“Hey.” Your voice cut through the quiet again. Soft, curious. Always curious. “Can I have one of those?” You nodded at the cigarette.

He scoffed, finally glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “You don’t smoke.”

“Maybe I do.” you said, wiggling your brows, which made him nearly choke on the drag he just took. You looked at him again, more carefully this time, and asked: “You okay?”

What a dumb question.

But coming from you?

It was like prayer.

He didn’t answer. He never really did. But his hand reached out and tugged the blanket a little higher around your shoulders, then flicked his half-finished cigarette off the balcony like he was done pretending he cared about anything other than the warmth of you standing next to him.

“‘Course I’m okay.” His voice was rough. “You’re here.”

You smiled.

And it was that same look again—the one that made his stomach turn inside out and his brain go fucking static. Like he couldn’t even hold onto his thoughts long enough to feel anything but this—the heat of you, the sound of you breathing, the idea that you came looking for him.

God, what a weak fucking thing to admit.

But maybe, under it all, that was what worship really was.

Letting someone see the worst parts of you and still wanting them to stay.

Even if you didn’t know what you were doing to him.

Even if you never said it.

You were doing it anyway.

He scoffed, turning his face away.

“No.” he muttered. “You can’t have a fucking cigarette.”

The refusal wasn’t cruel. Just blunt. That signature Niragi harshness that never really went away, but right now it didn’t bite the same. It was lower, closer to annoyed worry than rage. And you blinked, caught off guard by the answer. Not by the no, but by the softness underneath it, buried.

“Why not?” you asked. You were holding the blanket around you like a cape, standing barefoot next to him, sunlight hitting your hair and that sleepy tilt to your mouth. You weren’t really challenging him—you just liked asking questions. It was who you were. Always reaching, always curious, always wanting to know people, even the ones who didn’t want to be known.

He looked at you from the side, jaw tense. A quiet beat passed.

“It kills.” he said. And then, with less bite: “It was you who wanted me to stop, no?”

Your face shifted. Genuinely surprised now. You blinked again, softer this time, and tilted your head like you were playing the moment back in your mind. Yeah… yeah, you did tell him that once.

And he remembered.

He remembered.

“Oh.” you said, voice gentle now. “I wasn’t serious about the cigarette. I just wanted to try one. But okay.”

You didn’t ask again. Didn’t pout or whine or try to pry it from his hand. You just stood there, blanket swaying against your calves, as content as ever. If anything, your smile got a little brighter. The fact that he remembered what you said—that you’d gotten through to him, even a little—was enough to make you feel warm all the way through.

And Niragi… Niragi hated how good that made him feel.

Because he did remember. He remembered everything you said to him. Every tiny thing you ever did. How you tapped your fingers against your leg when you were anxious. How you always turned around when someone called your name, even when it wasn’t for you. How you never said someone’s name without softening your voice, just a little.

He hated that he knew all this. That he cared.

He leaned back against the railing again, letting the silence take up space between you, but he couldn’t stop watching you. That fucking blanket, swallowing you whole. Your bare legs. The ghost of his bite mark still shining red against your skin like a goddamn brand. The way your hair fluttered in the morning.

He wasn’t afraid of death. Never had been. He’d stared it down more times than he could count. But you—you made him scared of a different kind of ending.

One where you weren’t standing here anymore.

One where you stopped looking at him like that.

He growled low under his breath, trying to shake the thoughts off. The softness. The panic. He could kill a man with a flick of his wrist but couldn’t handle the way his chest squeezed when you did something as simple as smile at him.

What the fuck had you done to him?

You stretched your arms high above your head like a cat, yawning so hard your eyes watered, and mumbled, “M’gonna steal your food if you have anything in your mini fridge.”

He didn’t say no. He never said no to you.

“Help yourself.” he grumbled.

And you padded off inside, dragging his blanket across the floor behind you.

He watched you disappear.

Lit another cigarette.

And didn’t take a single drag.

The sunlight danced off the water behind you as you went up to Kuina and Chishiya at the pool, glittering against your skin, and the oversized black sunglasses sliding down your nose only made you look more otherworldly.

Kuina spotted you first. She always did. Her eyes caught the movement, tracked the sway of your hips, the way your towel bounced at your thighs, your wet hair twisted up into a lazy bun that still somehow looked good. But it was Chishiya who stiffened.

Because you were heading straight for him.

You didn’t even hesitate. Just closed the distance. And then you were there.

Clinging.

Your arms slipped around one of Chishiya’s, wrapping around him like ivy. Soft and secure. You leaned your head on his shoulder for a second, just long enough to let your affection settle into his skin, before straightening up again, tugging him down a little by the arm.

You were practically whispering when you spoke. “How’s the plan? Any updates? Or is that top secret info still?” Your voice was quiet, but full of that same lighthearted charm, like you were gossiping and not whispering about literal treason.

He didn’t pull away.

He should’ve pulled away.

Instead, Chishiya just glanced down at you, mouth a flat line, and for a moment Kuina saw something in his eyes. Something soft and sharp and possessive, and for once, it wasn’t hiding. She looked away quickly, trying not to feel that pang behind her ribs. Because she was your friend. She didn’t want to be bitter. But fuck, it was getting hard not to be.

Chishiya kept his voice low. “We might have a shift. Something in motion soon. But not here. Not with all these ears.”

You nodded like it made sense, eyes flicking around the pool. You knew better than to think you weren’t being watched. You were always being watched.

You turned slightly, adjusting your grip on Chishiya’s arm like you didn’t even notice the way his shoulders tensed under your touch.

“Okay.” you whispered. “Just wanted to make sure you weren’t ditching me because you’ve already fled the Beach and I didn’t get the memo.”

Kuina snorted, her arms crossing over her chest. “If we were gonna ditch, we’d at least take the lobster with us.”

You beamed, bright and full of delight, because you loved when they remembered your pets. “He’s doing great, actually. Started kicking the frog’s rocks around yesterday. Power move, honestly.”

Chishiya raised a single brow. “Did you name him yet?”

“I’m waiting for him to tell me.” you said, completely serious. “You don’t just name a lobster. That’s disrespectful. You wait. You listen.”

Kuina smiled behind her hand. Chishiya didn’t smile, but he didn’t roll his eyes either. And from him, that meant everything.

For a moment, the three of you just stood there—an odd little triangle.

And then you tugged gently on Chishiya’s sleeve again, whispering, “Hey. Are you okay? Like… really okay?”

You weren’t asking like someone who just wanted reassurance. You meant it. You were always checking in on people, even when they didn’t deserve it. Especially when they didn’t deserve it.

Chishiya didn’t answer at first. His gaze lingered on you—your sincerity, your softness, the fact that your hair still smelled like Niragi. That bite on your neck still fresh. And somehow, you were still looking at him like he mattered.

“…Yeah.” he muttered. “I’m fine.”

You turned to Kuina. “Do I have time to get another drink before the Beach implodes?”

Kuina nodded. “I’d say you’ve got five minutes. Maybe six if Hatter starts monologuing again.”

You laughed, light and bright, and pulled away from Chishiya’s arm with one last squeeze. “Okay. Be right back. Don’t betray me while I’m gone.”

And you disappeared back into the crowd, just like that.

Both of them watched you go—Chishiya’s gaze locked on your back, Kuina’s smile fading slowly.

You were the eye of the storm. The sunshine. And neither of them, no matter how smart or dangerous or ruthless they were, could stop circling you like moths to a flame.

They didn’t stand a chance.

A guy, drink in his hand, sunburn on the bridge of his nose, shirt open to the fourth button looked at you.

“You.” he said, grinning, pointing his cup at you. “You’re that girl.”

You blinked, then smiled, slow and warm as the recognition sank in. “Oh my god. The tunnels! That one game with the switches. You almost fell into the spike trap because you thought red meant stop and green meant go.”

“It does mean stop and go.” he grinned. “They just messed up the system. You saved my life, actually.”

“And you still almost fell into it.” you teased, folding your arms with a tilt of your head. “Some reflexes.”

He laughed, loud and bright, and you took a sip of your drink with a smile like you’d just gotten away with murder. He wasn’t flirting in a gross way, not really. Just playful. Casual. And most importantly, harmless. You didn’t feel like you were being hunted. That was a rare gift in this place.

Across the pool, Kuina tilted her head, her tongue clicking once against the roof of her mouth. “Who the hell is that?”

Chishiya didn’t answer. His eyes hadn’t left you since the guy walked up.

Your laugh—that laugh—cut through the air again. You leaned into the conversation, tilted your head back, nodded along, made some stupid hand gesture that made the guy laugh too. You were all pink again today. That soft bikini. That light sweater thrown over your shoulders. That bite on your collarbone still purple and sharp against your skin.

Chishiya didn’t do feelings. Not the loud kind, not the obvious kind. But you weren’t just a feeling. There was no escaping the gravity of you. Not for Kuina, not for Niragi, not even for Chishiya—who’d spent his whole life above it all.

You were leaning in again, bumping your shoulder into the guy’s like old friends, laughing as he offered to go grab you another drink.

Chishiya’s thoughts were static. Loud, high-pitched white noise.

That guy didn’t know what you liked to drink. Didn’t know your tells, the little nervous things you did with your fingers when you were lying. Didn’t know the color that looked best on you. Didn’t know you had a lobster and a frog. Didn’t know you wanted to decorate your (ex) apartment with all pink. Didn’t know you used to be a therapist.

Chishiya did.

Chishiya knew.

And he was going to kill that guy.

(He won’t. But he wanted to.)

Kuina glanced at him. “You’re really bad at hiding this.”

“Hiding what?”

She just smirked, then nodded back toward the pool. “She’s not yours, you know.”

He didn’t respond. Because she wasn’t wrong.

And yet, when that guy came back with a drink, when you took it with your sweet little “thank you!” and leaned on the edge of the bar, when you didn’t look back once—Chishiya felt something in his chest snap.

Not loud. Not dramatic. Just a thin, high-tension line pulling taut.

And he stayed silent.

Because he didn’t get to pull you back. He hadn’t put his mouth on your throat. He hadn’t marked you.

But god—he wanted to.

After a while, you walked back to them like nothing had happened.

“Hi.” you greeted, voice soft and sweet, arms already stretching out as you reached them. Without even asking, you curled yourself into Kuina’s side, head pressing against her shoulder. She barely reacted anymore. Just leaned into it, automatically, like your gravity pulled at her too hard to resist. Her arm slung around your waist, fingers pressing lightly into the fabric of your soft pink top/sweater/the fuck it is.

“You missed me?” you asked, looking up between the two of them with a playful little smile.

Kuina snorted. “You were gone for five minutes.”

“And you missed me every second. I get it. You don’t have to say it.” Your tone was dramatic, teasing, but the warmth in your eyes made it clear that you were so happy to be with them again.

Then your gaze settled on Chishiya. Your body didn’t move from Kuina, but your attention locked fully on him, like a spotlight. “You too.”

He didn’t respond right away. Just stood there, hands tucked in his hoodie pockets. If he’d been burning inside before, it didn’t show now.

“I missed you.” you said, completely unashamed, your voice as honest as a confession under a starless sky. “I always do.”

Still, nothing from him. Not even a flicker of expression. But Kuina noticed how he shifted his weight—how his foot edged a little closer. You noticed it too, but you didn’t say anything. You never called him out. That was part of your genius. That was part of why people loved you.

Because you didn’t need anything more than this. Just being near them. Just watching Chishiya breathe, just feeling Kuina’s warmth under your palm.

They could give you nothing and you’d still give them everything.

And it made Chishiya sick.

Not because he didn’t want it—god, he wanted it, wanted you—but because it felt like you cracked him open without trying. Like he’d spent his life building walls no one could climb, and you came skipping through them with a smile and a frog in hand.

You tilted your head at him. “Are you mad at me?”

“No.” he said flatly.

You giggled. “You are.”

“I’m not.”

Kuina rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like “both of you are insufferable.”

But you just tucked closer into her, nuzzling her shoulder for a second before letting your eyes flutter back to Chishiya. “Well. Whether you’re mad or not, I still love you.”

You threw around “love” like it was candy. But he felt it differently. Every word from your mouth stuck to his ribs like honey. And every time you touched him—even just his sleeve, even just your shoulder brushing his—he felt it like a curse.

Because he wanted to be made of stone. But when you said “love” he was nothing but flesh.

He looked away. But you were already smiling at Kuina again.

“You smell good.” you told her, burying your nose in her neck.

She laughed, exasperated but obviously loving it. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“So many things.” And then you looked between the two of them again, a little more serious this time. “I’m really glad you’re here. Both of you. It’s so dumb, but… I always feel better when you’re around.”

Neither of them responded. Kuina swallowed. Chishiya’s gaze dropped to the ground.

You, of course, just kept going, like your mouth could never stop once your heart started talking. “I was thinking earlier… maybe this place is only survivable because I’m not alone. Like if I didn’t have anyone, I’d just melt into a puddle in the hallway.”

Kuina muttered, “you already do that” but her voice was gentle.

You smiled, rubbing her back lightly. “I know. But you two—you’re like… little anchors. Or like—like… those weighted blankets. You know, the ones that help people sleep? I feel like that around you. Even when you’re moody.”

Chishiya inhaled sharply through his nose. Kuina let her head tilt against yours.

“And I know you’re planning important stuff and I’m not, like, the most useful person in strategy or whatever, but I just… I’m really proud of you. Of both of you. And I want to help however I can. Even if it’s just… being your emotional support lobster.”

You managed to make both of them feel like the only two people in the world.

Chishiya hated how much he wanted to reach out.

Kuina hated how much she wished you’d stay leaning against her forever.

They both wanted to pull you closer.

They both thought the other didn’t deserve you.

And neither of them said a word.

Before you could keep talking—before another string of affectionate nonsense could come off your tongue like honey—someone stepped up to your little circle under the sun. It was a girl, probably another one of Hatter’s messengers, one of his hoes, sunglasses too big for her face.

You blinked up at her, lifting your head slightly from Kuina’s shoulder, hands still half-curled around her.

“Hey.” the girl said, a polite smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Hatter wants to talk to you.”

“Oh! Really? Now?” You smiled.

She nodded. “He said it’s not urgent, but he wants to speak in private.”

And of course you lit up immediately, almost bouncing, barely untangling yourself from Kuina without pushing her into the fucking pool. “That’s so nice! Okay. Okay, yeah. Thanks for telling me!”

The girl just tilted her head once and turned to go, clearly expecting you to follow—but you turned back around, just for a second. Looking at Kuina, at Chishiya, heart beating like it always did when something was happening.

Kuina was already watching you with something complicated in her gaze—jealousy, admiration, worry—but her smile was there, soft on her face. “Don’t let him charm you.”

You grinned. “Me? Never. I’m the one with the real charm around here.”

Then your eyes slid to Chishiya, and your heart did that stupid thing again. Like it always did around him.

Still no visible expression from him, but you watched his gaze shift up and down your frame, then settle on your face like a full stop at the end of a sentence. You didn’t know what he was thinking. You never really knew. But the way he looked at you was… intense.

“I’ll come right back.” you told them both, and you meant it.

And then you turned, following the girl through the crowd and the music and the warm wind that blew over the glittering pool.

Hatter poured himself a glass of something golden and smooth, and you were curled up in one of his armchairs, legs crossed beneath you, gaze floating over every inch of his ridiculously luxurious room.

You dragged a finger along the carved arm of the chair, nails painted with tiny glitter hearts. “This is such a vibe.” you murmured, grinning.

He laughed—short, low. Then he turned toward you, swirling the glass in his hand as he leaned a hip against the edge of the desk. “I’ve been thinking about what you said.” he said, voice heavier now. Charisma.

You blinked. “Which part?” you asked lightly. “I say a lot of things. I think my brain’s on fire half the time.”

“The part about people.” he said. “The part where you told me how to use them. Told me how to pull strings without letting them see the threads.”

You tilted your head and offered a small, bright shrug, as if you hadn’t just been talking high-level manipulation. “I mean, it’s not that hard. People just want to be heard. Or adored. Or useful. You just have to find out which.”

“And what do you want to be?” he asked, studying you now.

You smiled, all sunshine. “I want to be adored and useful.” you answered honestly. “Why pick?”

“I think you’re dangerous.” he said, and it wasn’t a warning. It was admiration. Deep, appreciative admiration.

You beamed. “Thank you!”

“And I think I need dangerous people.”

Your legs swung a little from the chair. “You already have dangerous people. Aguni, Niragi, Mira, Chishiya…” You squinted at the curtain, then looked back at him.

“I think you’re the most useful person here.” Hatter said, finally sitting back down, across from you now, resting both elbows on the armrests. “You’ve talked to everyone. They trust you. They like you. You’re not a soldier. You’re not a manipulator. You’re just…” He gestured to all of you. “This.”

You smiled. “You make it sound like I’m a secret weapon.”

“You are.”

You rested your cheek in your hand, eyes sparkling. “You’re very sweet when you want something.”

His lips quirked. “Is it working?”

You shrugged, coy. “Depends what you want.”

He didn’t answer. Not directly. But his gaze dipped for just a second—over your legs, the curve of your throat, the faint shimmer of something expensive on your collarbone. Niragi’s mark was still faint, still there.

He saw it. Of course he did.

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t need to. You just stretched a little, arms over your head, pink sweater sliding a bit off your shoulder, and then you asked, with perfect innocence: “So, what now?”

“I want you closer to me.” Hatter said.

You nodded. “Okay.”

Just like that. No fanfare. No questions. You knew how to play the game. Knew it better than most. It wasn’t about agreeing to whatever he meant. It was about letting him think you had.

You were dangerous in a way no one else here could afford to be. Because they all thought they were playing you.

And that meant none of them were watching you properly.

Just how you liked it.

He leaned back in the armchair, resting the crystal glass on his knee, eyes on you like you were something rare and beautiful that had just sprouted in front of him—something glittering, delicate, and completely unexpected.

His silence made your brows lift slightly. Your legs swung gently, the way they always did when you were comfortable.

“You want me to be the next one.” you said, like you were just naming clouds. Like this was the weather. Like it wasn’t the biggest unspoken secret between you now laid bare.

He didn’t even blink.

You tilted your head. “The next boss. When you get all the cards.”

There it was. Clear. Bright. Unapologetic.

His mouth curved, just a little. “You catch on fast.”

You shrugged, looking at your nails like this was nothing. “You’re not the only one watching people all day.”

That made him laugh. A short, quiet sound that sounded too tired to be flirtation. You knew it wasn’t. Not really. There were prettier people than you at the Beach. There were louder, crueler, more obvious options. But you were the one everyone watched without realizing they were watching. You were the one who got into every room just by smiling.

And somehow… here you were.

“I think Kuzuryu’s going to be real disappointed.” you said airily, crossing your legs. “Technically, it’d be his seat, right? He’s second by rank.”

Hatter didn’t correct you.

“But you want me,” you continued, running your finger along the curve of the table. “because Kuzuryu leads with logic. And you want someone who leads with love. Well, something that looks like love.”

He didn’t deny it.

“And I mean… yeah. I can do that.” you added. “People like me. I don’t even do anything and they still want to follow me around like ducklings. Even the scary ones.”

Hatter just watched you, quiet.

You leaned forward a little. “Do you think it’s weird? How fast this happened?”

“I think it’s exactly how it was supposed to happen.” he said, swirling his drink once. “You walk into a room and people turn toward the warmth. You don’t even try. It’s effortless. You don’t need a gun. You don’t need a crown. You just exist and they… orbit.”

You flushed, just a little, from the praise. Even if you knew it was true.

Hatter studied you for another long, slow moment. Then he said, voice quieter now, “You’ll make them feel safe, Y/N. Like there’s still something human left in all this.”

“Even if there’s not?” you asked.

He smiled. “Especially if there’s not.”

You gave a little sigh and leaned back in the chair, arms stretched along the rests like a child playing queen. “I’m gonna need better clothes.” you said. “Maybe something with rhinestones. Do you think being a leader calls for more glitter or less?”

“I think you can wear a paper bag and they’d still kneel.” Hatter said simply.

That… made you quiet for a moment. Because it was the kind of thing Niragi would think, maybe Chishiya too, but Hatter just said it, out loud, without flinching. It made your heart feel like it had been gently twisted.

“I’m good with people,” you said softly. “but it doesn’t mean I always know what to do with them. Are you sure?”

“Completely.”

“And you’re sure they’ll follow me?”

“Completely.”

You sat with that. Not smiling. Just breathing.

Then, finally, you nodded once. “Okay.”

And that was it. A single word, but it was the start of everything.

“Okay.” you said again, more grounded this time. “So let’s say you do want me to be the next one. Say you get the full deck. What happens after that? Do I have to sit on a throne or something? Give speeches? I’m not that good at speeches. I mean, I talk, I talk a lot, but like, formal stuff? I’ll need practice.”

Hatter grinned at that, slow and approving. “No thrones. No speeches. You just keep being what you are. People follow light. You’re all light.”

You tilted your head at him, voice a little lower. “It’s not just about light though. You don’t pick me just because people like me. You’re smarter than that.”

He gave a slow nod, like he wasn’t surprised you saw through it.

“You understand leverage.” he said. “You understand timing. You know who to be in every room. You don’t think you do—but it’s instinct. The way you survive. And people like you want to make things better. It’s rare.”

“I also carry lobsters in my purse.” you added, gently. “Let’s not forget that.”

That made him laugh again, full and deep. But it faded quickly, his gaze turning distant for a moment. He looked at you like he was memorizing something. And then he said it.

“Something’s going to happen to you.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I don’t know what. But it’s coming.” His tone didn’t change much—still smooth, still calm—but something about the way he said it sent a strange chill through the room. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his fingers laced. “I’ve seen too many players. Watched the way fate curls around certain people. And with you… it’s circling. Something’s coming. I feel it.”

You paused, staring at him, for once not having anything quick to say. You didn’t laugh, didn’t call it dramatic, didn’t offer some witty remark. You just… looked at him.

Because a part of you knew it too. Even in your silly, soft world full of frogs and lobsters and candy-colored swimsuits—you felt it. That hum beneath the surface. That something was changing. That something had to.

“…You think I’m going to die?” you asked, quietly.

“No.” Hatter said. “No. Not death. You’re too golden for that. But you’re going to change. You’re going to become something bigger than you ever meant to be. It’ll tear things apart.”

You stared down at your hands, soft fingers and perfect nails. You’d never broken a bone. You cried when you saw roadkill. You fell asleep holding stuffed animals. And yet somehow, people kept handing you their secrets, their loyalty, their knives.

Your voice was small. “I don’t want to tear things apart.”

He nodded slowly. “That’s why it’s going to hurt.”

You let that sit between you, heavy as concrete. The room felt warmer than before, despite the air conditioning. You blinked, eyes glassy, but not crying.

“Will you still want me then?” you asked. “When I’m not all glitter and sunshine?”

“I’ll want you more.” he said. “Because that’s when the world will finally see what you are. Not cute. Not sweet. But power wrapped in a pink bow.”

You looked at him, silent. And then—softly, because you meant it—“I don’t want to be alone.”

“You won’t be.” he said. “Not ever.”

That, somehow, scared you more than anything.

“Thank you.” you said. Not light, not playful—no dramatic hand gestures or air-kisses or quips. Just two words. Solid. Real. And full of so much fucking gratitude it made Hatter lean back, like maybe the weight of it surprised even him.

You didn’t just mean thank you for the compliment, or the belief, or the safety of the room. You meant thank you for seeing you. For noticing that beneath the softness, the pink, the love for frogs and the way you were always touching people like the world might shatter without warmth—there was something more. Something sharp. Something terrifying. Something that could change everything if it wanted to.

And he saw it.

You hopped off the table. You just stood for a second. Watching him. Letting yourself be watched.

“I won’t let you down.” you said. And you meant that too.

“I know you won’t.” His voice was quiet. “Go now.”

He didn’t say it unkindly. There was nothing dismissive in the way he said it. Just… trust. And the kind of calm someone has when they know they’ve made the right bet.

You turned, soft steps already moving toward the door, and you paused only once—your hand on the frame—just to glance back and offer one last radiant smile.

Then you slipped out.

Hatter sat there long after the door closed behind you. Fingers steepled beneath his chin, elbows on his knees again.

He had no illusions about people. He knew most of the Beach would turn on him the second it served them. He knew men like Niragi would shoot their way to the top if they could, and men like Chishiya would wait for the perfect second to pull the rug out from under someone’s feet. Everyone here was a loaded gun waiting for the trigger.

But you? You were a bomb. Not even because you wanted to be. You didn’t crave power. You didn’t manipulate like Mira or command like Aguni or dominate like Niragi. You didn’t move like someone with ambition in their veins. You moved like someone who just wanted to love things. Everything. Everyone. It made people give you everything.

And when someone like that finally realized how much they were worth?

When they stopped trying to just survive and started to use it?

That was the kind of person history bent around.

Hatter leaned back in his chair and stared at the door, a slow breath pushing past his lips.

You weren’t ready to be worshipped.

But you were already being followed.

And if there was one person in this whole godforsaken Beach who had the potential to burn the entire system down—

It was you.

You’d waited by the pool, your arms folded beneath your chest at first, eyes sweeping the crowd for a flash of blonde or a blue bikini. Kuina. Chishiya. Where did they go? You left them right here. But they weren’t anywhere.

You thought about going to look for them—briefly. But the mood, the lights, the people calling your name, pulling you into conversations like you were the center of gravity—it swallowed you back in.

Yeah, it was nighttime by now.

So you stayed.

The Beach’s golden girl, barefoot by the water, skin kissed by the lights around the pool. Your pink sweater was long gone, peeled off sometime around your fourth half-drink, now left on a chair somewhere you’d definitely forget. All that was left was your bikini, a soft pink shade that somehow made you look both divine and painfully human. Your body looked like it belonged here. Your laughter did too.

You twirled someone’s sunglasses on your finger. Spoke to a group of players and made them smile. Someone offered you fruit cut into little stars. Another said you should be on a card. Someone called you the Beach’s luck charm.

And then—

Fingers at your back. A palm, brushing slow against your spine, curling into the strap of your bikini top.

You gasped—not because you were scandalized, but because your first thought was it’s falling.

You twisted around quick, your hair whipping across your bare shoulders.

Niragi.

Already holding the back of the strap in place like the asshole he was, one finger looped under it, tugging just enough to make your heart leap, but not enough to really take it off.

“Scared ya.” he said, so fucking smug.

Your mouth parted, words caught between a scold and a laugh.

“Are you serious?” you breathed, hand going to your chest as if he actually had pulled it off. “Niragi, I will end you.”

“You’d need both hands.” he said, voice lazy, cocky, leaning in. “And I think you’d like them somewhere else.”

Your jaw dropped. “You are so—oh my god—”

He was already letting the strap fall gently back into place, smoothing it over with an unnecessary graze of his thumb against your back. His hand lingered. Too long. He didn’t move away.

“You’re so annoying.” you muttered, even as you turned your face up to him with the same grin he’d seen you give strangers all night. Sweet. Lovable. Angelic.

But Niragi? He got the real version of it. The version that wanted to smack him and kiss him in the same breath.

He didn’t take you seriously. Not right now. He was like a fucking high schooler—so immature, grinning like he just stole a candy bar, like you were his favorite game.

But could you be angry?

No.

Not when he looked at you like that. Not when you knew the way he’d stood behind you in that meeting earlier, let you take his chair.

Not when he touched you like you were something to be handled carefully, even if he didn’t say it.

You rolled your eyes and pushed at his chest with one hand, but he caught your wrist. Held it. Not tight. Just… there.

“Don’t wander off like that.” he muttered, barely audible over the beat of the music.

“I didn’t.” you said. “You wandered off. Left me all alone in your room in the morning.”

He snorted, gaze dropping to your mouth, then to your legs, then back up to your eyes. “You’re a fuckin’ walking target like that. Someone’s gonna try something.”

“Someone did, actually.” you said, smug, chin tilted up.

His jaw twitched. “And?”

“And I said no.” you replied, simply. “Why would I say yes to someone when the person I actually want is just—”

You caught yourself.

He watched the stutter of your breath like a predator. “Go on.” he said. “Finish that.”

You just smiled again.

“I’m gonna get another drink.” you said, pulling your wrist from his hand gently. “Coming?”

He stared for a second longer, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to follow or grab you again, say something wild, say stay here with me, but in the end—

He scoffed.

And followed anyway.

You leaned half over the bar, arms bare and glittering slightly from whatever shimmer you’d slapped on earlier, as the bartender handed you another tall glass—fruit, mostly, juice, something sweet.

Niragi stood just behind you, close enough that you could feel the heat off him again, close enough to let everyone else know not to get any ideas.

“I’m gonna get you a lava lamp.” you announced, spinning around to lean your back against the bar now, drink in hand.

Of course you were still talking. Like always. Like he wasn’t dangerous. Like he wasn’t the guy who would gut someone in the hallway over a bad look. Like he didn’t burn things just to feel something. Like he didn’t hate the world and himself and everything in between.

Like you weren’t the one thing he didn’t hate.

He blinked at you. “…What the fuck are you talking about?”

“A lava lamp.” you repeated, sipping. “You know. Those glowing blob things? I just feel like you need one.”

“What the fuck am I gonna do with a lava lamp?”

“Look at it, obviously.” you said. “It’s soothing. Mood lighting. You could stare at it instead of staring at people like you want to murder them.”

He stared harder now. At you.

“You think a lamp’s gonna fix me?”

“I mean.” you tilted your head. “It probably won’t make you worse.”

“You’re fucked in the head.” he muttered, finally, poking at his mouth with his tongue, his piercing sliding over his lips.

“And you’re not?” you said, tone light and sugar sweet. “Please. We’re so similar.”

He scoffed again but didn’t disagree.

He never disagreed with you when it came to things like that.

You started walking, slowly, along the edge of the pool, and he moved with you, just barely a step behind, like it was natural. And it was.

That was the thing—you two got along. It didn’t make sense. No one would believe it. But it was true. You two got along so well. It was alarming.

You rambled, talking.

And he listened.

He didn’t interrupt much, just let the sound of your voice keep going, like it helped his brain from spiraling too deep into the other things—the hate, the self-loathing, the mess of rage constantly buzzing in his pretty skull. With you talking beside him, the world didn’t have to be like this. It could be soft. Ridiculous. Weird. Human.

And Niragi? Niragi just existed beside you.

He hated himself. He hated his past. He hated how fucking easy you made everything feel. Like this was normal. Like he was normal. And god, he wasn’t. He wasn’t.

He didn’t deserve you walking next to him, glittering like sunlight, talking about lava lamps and sipping some fruity shit with your mouth so pink and soft.

But still.

Still, here you were. With him.

“You know,” you said suddenly, glancing up at him as you walked. “no matter how much of an asshole you are, I actually really like talking to you.”

He didn’t respond.

Didn’t need to.

The silence was heavy between you, but not awkward. Not anymore. His hand brushed yours once. Then again. Not by accident.

You didn’t pull away. You just looked up at him, smiling that tired, crooked smile that came out when you were relaxed, real. Honest.

And Niragi? He didn’t smile back.

But inside—somewhere under the chaos and the rot and the fucked up parts of himself he usually tried to drown in smoke—his heart ached. Burned.

Because he knew, right then, that if he had to be stuck in this world forever, if it meant he could walk beside you like this, laughing about useless shit like lava lamps and watching you sip stupid drinks—

He’d take it. Every time.

Even if he hated himself for it.

He would burn the whole fucking world down for you.

No hesitation. No mercy. He’d do it smiling, with blood on his hands and smoke in his lungs. He’d watch everything turn to ash if it meant keeping you warm.

Because he was that kind of broken.

The kind of fucked up that didn’t need a reason, didn’t ask for justification. The kind that saw something beautiful—someone like you—and thought, mine. Immediately. Permanently.

And god, he knew how wrong that was.

He knew he wasn’t gentle. Knew he wasn’t soft. He wasn’t someone you could show off. He wasn’t the kind of boy you brought home to your family—he was the one you kept hidden. The one whose hands had already killed, already torn through skin, already carved pain into the world and felt nothing.

But when it came to you?

Everything in him screamed. Every nerve. Every cell. He couldn’t ignore you. Couldn’t even breathe without some part of him aching from it.

And it wasn’t just lust, wasn’t just obsession—not completely. It was deeper. Sicker. Worshipful. He thought about you constantly. The way your lips moved when you spoke. The dumb little expressions you made when you were telling one of your never-ending stories. The way you touched everyone without thinking, like your hands belonged on people’s arms and cheeks and shoulders. And how he’d kill anyone who got used to that.

They don’t get to touch you like that.

Because you were light. And he was rot. A thing full of rage and bitterness and cruelty, the kind of man people crossed the street to avoid, the kind that would never get love in return—just fear, just submission, just sexual touches in the dark.

But you? You had smiled at him from day one. Unafraid. Curious.

You’d kissed him. Told him you wanted to. Said it like it was no big deal, like it didn’t mean everything. And that kiss had lodged itself in his skull like a bullet, still there, still bleeding. You didn’t know what this was.

But he did.

It was everything.

He watched you now, walking ahead slightly, your hair catching the lights from the party, hips swaying in that goddamn bikini that made him want to break furniture and bite through his fucking lip.

And it made him mad. Mad that someone like you existed. Mad that someone like him got to be near you. Mad that he wanted more than this, more than what you’d already given him.

He wanted your trust. Your time. Your whole body under him, around him, your smile made just for him. He wanted your loyalty, your softness, your everything.

And yeah. He was sick in the head. He knew that.

He would chain the sun for you if you asked. Would tear down every tower in this city and light the sky on fire just to make you laugh.

He would paint your name in blood and swear it was poetry.

That’s who he was.

And he hated it. Hated that you made him want to be seen. Hated that when you were around, he didn’t feel empty. He felt human.

He hated that he loved it.

“You’re staring.” you said, turning back to glance at him, head tilted. Innocent. Unaware.

“Yeah?” he said. “Get used to it.”

Because there was no world—no Beach, no Borderland, no Earth—where he would ever stop.

Hopeless. That’s what his heart was. Niragi—who had no business having one in the first place—felt it fracture in slow, quiet pieces every time you turned that sunlit face away from him, smiled at someone else, touched someone else.

He was too far gone.

He wanted mornings with you. Not just nights full of smoke and skin and laughter muffled into kisses, but mornings. That soft light through the window bullshit. Waking up with your hair against his chest, your legs tangled with his. You in a hoodie that wasn’t yours—maybe his, maybe stolen from someone else just because it made you look that cute.

He wanted to hear your voice in the morning before it smoothed out. Wanted to be the first thing you saw when you opened those ridiculous eyes. Wanted to make coffee with you and let you feed your stupid lobster and your frog, and act like any of this was normal.

Wanted to sit in silence with you. Wanted to hold your hand in a room full of people and never explain why.

He wanted all the things he wasn’t supposed to want.

Things no one like him deserved.

And the worst part? You didn’t even know. You never noticed how he was coming apart at the seams for you, how just the way you said his name could change the whole fucking temperature of his body. How badly he wanted to undo himself, completely, just to make you smile.

And then—fucking then—Akira.

Of course it was Akira.

He always looked clean. Cool. Smelled like expensive cologne and didn’t have blood on his hands. Probably never killed anyone with his bare fingers. The kind of guy who called you “princess” in his head.

Niragi knew the type. Knew he had nothing on him when it came to danger, but that was the issue, wasn’t it? You liked danger. You liked him. But Akira was safe. Akira didn’t bite. Akira didn’t bleed out at night in his head thinking about your laugh.

The guy nodded at Niragi. Nodded. Like they were boys. Like they were on the same level.

Niragi’s eyes didn’t move. Didn’t twitch. He watched Akira’s hand slide too casually over your shoulder, fingers brushing the soft skin of your upper back like he’d earned that right.

And you—too sweet to notice the shift—just turned to talk to him, light in your eyes, sun in your voice.

That was it.

Something in Niragi cracked so deeply it didn’t even make a sound. It was clean, internal, permanent. Like a light switch flipping off inside.

He didn’t growl. Didn’t scream. Didn’t grab the guy and snap his wrist like he wanted to.

Instead, his hand—steady, gentle, controlling—landed on your waist. He leaned in, teeth brushing your ear. “Aguni wants to talk to you.” he said. Voice soft. Controlled.

You turned to him immediately. “He does?” Like it was the best news you’d heard all night. He nodded, brushing a stray bit of hair from your cheek, then let you go.

He watched you walk away, smiling over your shoulder. Always smiling.

And then he turned.

No expression on his face now. Just something new behind the eyes.

He had never done this before.

Never willingly sought him out.

But right now? There was only one person sick enough, smart enough, and cold enough to understand what needed to be done.

And he knew exactly who to ask.

Chishiya.

❤︎︎ @lizntstoptalking @cherryheairt @fiction-fantasy-folks @monkey4lifer @psychicyouthfox @so-dramatic1 @mypsychoticlove @unhinged-sorcerer @rattymess @mocchii-writes @adanfore @scarlet703 @fluentgoddess @maxinehufflepuffprincess @onyxmango @bluerthanvelvet444 @risingofjupiter @enhasrii @potato-vagina @cherryyserenade @l5byrinth @soaplickerrr @sillyenemyarcade @miellette @sk1ndx0

#alice in borderland #chishiya alice in borderland #chishiya shuntaro #aib chishiya #aib niragi #chishiya x reader #niragi suguru #niragi x reader #niragi alice in borderland

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angelseraphines · 2 months ago

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ೃ⁀➷ body electric ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ suguru niragi x former!lover!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header! please note that i do not agree with the choices of niragi and for any fanfictions i write about him, those controversial actions will be omitted!

˚ ༘♡ it was the strangest thing, stepping out of your bedroom and into a world that had ceased to exist. the familiar cadence of life, the hushed creaks of the old family estate, the distant sounds of the city beyond, had been swallowed whole by silence. you called out, expecting an answer, but none came. the lavish halls stretched empty, the doors left ajar as if abandoned in an instant. outside, the streets of tokyo stood frozen in time, emptied of their ceaseless crowds, their neon-lit chaos. no cars idling at intersections, no distant murmur of conversation, no footsteps beyond your own.

˚ ༘♡ for hours, you wandered, a lone figure adrift in a dead city. the absence of life gnawed at your mind, an eerie stillness pressing against your skin. you searched for movement, for any sign that you weren’t the last person left in the world. then, at long last, you found them, a handful of strangers clustered in the remains of a building complex, their faces etched with the same confusion and fear that pained your expression. pitiful consolation burned in your chest, only to be doused by frustration. they knew nothing. no one did.

˚ ༘♡ then came the notification, it read the following, “visa: 3 days remaining.”

˚ ༘♡ your heart pounded as you turned to one of the others, demanding to know what it meant. their answer was worse than anything your mind had conjured. you had three days to play. three days to win. fail, or refuse, and your visa would expire. and when that happened, you would die.

˚ ༘♡ it sounded absurd, a nightmare spun from exhaustion and fear. but then the first game began.

˚ ༘♡ a siren wailed through the building, red emergency lights casting the halls in an unnatural glow. a door slammed open. and then he appeared.

˚ ༘♡ a towering figure draped in dark clothing, a horse mask concealing his face, the gleam of a gun heavy in his hands. he did not hesitate. the first shot rang out, cutting through the confusion, splattering blood across the walls. screams shattered the air. chaos erupted, bodies scrambling for cover as the game of tag began, except this wasn’t a game. not really.

˚ ༘♡ you ran. every breath burned, every heartbeat a countdown to death. the masked man moved with terrifying precision, his steps unhurried, methodical. you turned a corner just as another shot rang out through the air, a body hitting the ground behind you. fear coursed through your veins like fire, but survival drove you forward.

˚ ༘♡ in the end, you lived, not by skill, not by strength, but by sheer luck. a young man and a woman, moving like they had done this before, found the safe zone in the final moments. you barely made it, collapsing against the wall, lungs heaving, the taste of fear still thick in your throat. the masked man vanished. the sirens cut off. eerie silence returned.

˚ ༘♡ your phone buzzed again. your visa had been extended.

˚ ༘♡ the next day, you could hardly move. fatigue and shock weighed you down, pinning you to the cold floor of the abandoned building you had taken refuge in. your mind refused to process what had happened, but deep down, you knew. if you didn’t move, if you didn’t act, you wouldn’t survive the next game.

˚ ༘♡ it was pure chance that you ran into them again, the two who had saved you. the young man introduced himself as ryohei arisu, the woman as yuzuha usagi. you thanked them, though words felt meaningless after what you had just endured. when they asked if you wanted to join them, you didn’t hesitate.

˚ ༘♡ arisu mentioned a location called the beach, a rumored sanctuary where players had gathered. a sliver of hope in a city that had become a graveyard.

˚ ༘♡ it took time, careful observation, and calculated risk, but after following a group of players you recognized from the game of tag, you knew you were close, but without warning a devastating blow was delivered to the back of your head and you were entrenched by darkness.

˚ ༘♡ when you woke, your wrists were bound, the scent of lavender incense thick in the air. a lavish room stretched before you, unfamiliar faces standing in the dim light. a man entered, draped in a loose robe, his presence far too casual for the circumstances. he grinned and extended his arms in a welcoming gesture, “i am sure you all have questions, and we have the answers you are searching for.”

˚ ༘♡ the robed man, who introduced himself as the hatter, was the self-proclaimed ruler of the beach. with a charismatic grin, he explained the laws that governed this facade of a sanctuary, his voice smooth, practically hypnotic, as if he had rehearsed it countless times before.

˚ ༘♡ one. all playing cards collected from the games belonged to the beach. they believed that obtaining a full deck would grant them passage back to the original world, though there was no proof, only blind faith and desperation. two. all members were to follow the will of the leader, the hatter himself, and his chosen executive members. their word was law. questioning it was not an option. three. the most sinister of all, betray the beach, and you will be executed without mercy.

˚ ༘♡ his delivery was casual and lighthearted, but the dread of those mandates settled akin to lead in your stomach. there was no room for dissent. you were not being invited, you were being conscripted.

˚ ༘♡ with no choice but to comply, you were ushered away, given a simple command: change into swimsuits. no exceptions. it was a method of control, a way to ensure no weapons could be concealed. but beyond that, it was humiliating. a stripping away of your identity, reducing you to just another body in the beach’s twisted paradise.

˚ ༘♡ you were led into a grand dressing room, its gilded mirrors and velvet benches a stark contrast to the world outside. racks of swimwear lined the walls, bright, revealing, designed for spectacle rather than function. hesitant, you sifted through the options before settling on a pearl-white one-piece with a sweetheart neckline, elegant yet understated. even so, the thought of baring yourself in such a vulnerable space made you uneasy. for a sliver of modesty, you grabbed a sheer cover-up, draping it over your shoulders before stepping out into the heart of the resort.

˚ ༘♡ and what you saw left you speechless.

˚ ༘♡ the beach was alive with indulgence. men and women in vibrant bikinis and neon swim trunks danced freely, their bodies moving under the golden glow of the sun. cocktails sloshed in their hands, music pulsed from unseen speakers, laughter rang out like the city had never vanished. it was surreal, a fever dream of excess set against the backdrop of an abandoned world.

˚ ༘♡ but beneath the revelry, there was something off. something calculated.

˚ ༘♡ as you moved through the crowd, you felt it, the leering gazes of men trailing after you, drinking you in like you were just another prize in this lawless haven. your grip tightened around your cover-up, pulling it closer, shielding yourself as best as you could without drawing attention. searching the crowd, you finally spotted familiar faces, usagi and arisu, standing off to the side, their expressions indistinct.

˚ ༘♡ relief rushed through you as you hurried over. “i thought i’d never be able to find you two.”

˚ ༘♡ usagi glanced up, her eyes taking you in. she wore a navy blue two-piece, a peach zip-up jacket pulled tightly around her frame despite the heat. her voice was low, almost conspiratorial as she muttered, “can you believe they’re making everyone dress like this? it’s humiliating.”

˚ ༘♡ arisu, arms crossed, let out a slow breath, gaze drifting toward the endless stretch of blue sky. “you think what the executives said is true?” his voice was laced with doubt. “that if we gather all the cards, we can go back?”

˚ ༘♡ neither you nor usagi answered. because what was there to say? it was a fool’s hope, a dangling promise intended to keep the beach running, to keep its members playing the games. no one knew if escape was even possible. and something told you that the people in charge of these depraved, debauched games didn’t care.

˚ ༘♡ the vivacious laughter and excitement that had consumed the resort mere moments ago began to wane, like a tide pulling back, exposing something far more menacing beneath the surface. you felt it before you saw it, a change in the air, an unspoken tension that rippled through the crowd, silencing the drunken revelry. turning your head, your breath became erratic.

˚ ༘♡ a group of men strode through the party, their presence suffocating, the very energy of the beach seeming to warp around them. at the front of the pack, you recognized him immediately, the man who had taken down the tagger during your first game. his presence had unnerved you then, and it unnerved you now. he moved with the quiet confidence of a predator, his muscled frame tense beneath his tank top, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd with indifference. he looked like a member of the yakuza with his shaved head and vicious attitude.

˚ ༘♡ yet, it was the figure behind him that truly sent a chill down your spine. a man dressed in black, his hood drawn up over his head, a long, gleaming blade clutched in his grip. his head was shaved clean, but tattoos inked his stark white skin, crawling down his neck like a web of curses. he didn’t speak. he didn’t need to. his very presence was suffocating, a walking omen of violence.

˚ ༘♡ your gaze steadily drifted to the figure on the left, and your entire body locked up.

˚ ༘♡ no.

˚ ༘♡ your heart lurched, your stomach twisting into knots so tight you felt nauseous. your breath caught in your throat, your knees going weak beneath you. your mind screamed at you that it couldn’t be, that it shouldn’t be. but it was.

˚ ༘♡ “hey, aguni, who is this jerk staring at you?”

˚ ༘♡ the masculine voice with a taunting edge, slashed through the unbearable silence, your gaze landed on him. niragi.

˚ ༘♡ he stood before you, a rifle slung casually over his shoulder, his smirk razor-sharp and laced with cruelty. but your eyes weren’t on the weapon. they weren’t even on the piercings that now lined his eyebrow and tongue, nor the unruly strands of black hair that had grown out since you last saw him.

˚ ༘♡ the same eyes that once held warmth, shyness, devotion. the same eyes that once looked at you like you were his entire world. but now? now they were malicious and dark, devoid of anything kind and compassionate. the cocky bravado was there, the smirk, the teasing edge to his voice. but for a fleeting second, just a fraction of a second, his mask slipped. his expression faltered. he recognized you. he wasn’t expecting this, he wasn’t expecting you.

˚ ༘♡ arisu, beside you, blinked in surprise. “you’re the guy from the game of tag.”

˚ ༘♡ aguni, the man leading the group, barely spared you a glance. instead, his gaze flickered over the three of you, his lips curling in something that wasn’t quite a sneer, wasn’t quite pity. “i see your friend died.” his tone was cold, impersonal. “what a shame. the weak ones survived.”

˚ ༘♡ niragi, however, was no longer looking at arisu or aguni. his full attention was on you. his fingers twitched at his side, his head tilting slightly, like he was trying to piece together if this was real or some bizarre hallucination. then, before you could even think of what to say, he took a step forward, closing the distance between you just enough to make your breath catch in your throat.

˚ ༘♡ ”it’s been a while, honey.”

˚ ༘♡ his voice was laced with mockery, with that menacing brutality, but there was something else too, something genuine. a sliver of sincerity buried beneath it all, a trace of something that made your heart ache, remnants of the niragi you once cherished so deeply.

˚ ༘♡ “why are you hanging out with this loser?” niragi seethed, his voice ridden with contempt as his glare locked onto arisu. before arisu could even process the insult, let alone defend himself, niragi swung the end of his rifle into his face with a sickening crack. the impact sent arisu crashing onto the cold, tiled floor, his head snapping back against the hard surface.

˚ ༘♡ blood gushed from his nose and mouth almost instantly, painting the shining white tiles in deep crimson. he barely had a chance to react before niragi loomed over him, lifting his boot and slamming it into his ribs. arisu curled inward, gasping in pain, but niragi wasn’t done. he kicked him again, this time in the head.

˚ ༘♡ usagi let out a panicked cry and dropped to the ground beside arisu, her hands flying up to shield him. “stop! please!” she shouted, desperation cracking her voice. she tried to shove niragi away, but he barely stumbled. without hesitation, he turned and shoved her back with enough force to send her sprawling across the floor.

˚ ༘♡ “what the hell are you doing?” you snapped, horror and disbelief flooding your veins. your mind reeled, unable to make sense of what you were seeing, of the man standing before you. niragi had once been the one suffering under the weight of cruelty, bullied relentlessly until he had nearly been broken. you had been the one to step in, to defend him, to pull him from the insults and beatings of others. and now, here he was, standing in the shoes of the very monsters who had tormented him.

˚ ༘♡ what happened to him?

˚ ༘♡ “niragi, enough! no more!” you yelled out, but he ignored you, lifting his boot again as if he had already decided arisu’s fate.

˚ ༘♡ you didn’t think. you acted. you threw yourself in front of him, your body a barrier between niragi and the bloodied mess of arisu curled up on the floor. usagi was already huddled beside him, shielding him as best as she could. you could see niragi’s rise and fall as adrenaline coursed through his veins, feel his eyes boring into you, but you didn’t care.

˚ ༘♡ “what have you become?” you shouted, your voice shaking, your emotions threatening to swallow you whole. “have you lost your mind because of these games? is this who you are now?”

˚ ༘♡ niragi stood motionless, his expression darkening. for a minute, something unreadable glistened in his gaze, something vanishing, something buried beneath layers of cruelty and indifference. then, his lips coiled into a sneer.

˚ ༘♡ “what have i become?” he mocked, his tone laced with amusement. “why are you being so melodramatic?”

˚ ༘♡ your heart pounded as you looked past him, at the men standing behind him, watching without saying a word. this was for them. niragi wasn’t just acting out of anger, he was performing, playing the role expected of him, preserving whatever foreboding image he had built here.

˚ ༘♡ he exhaled sharply and tilted his head, his smirk growing. “get out of my way, would you?” his voice was almost teasing, but there was a dangerous edge beneath it. he reached out, fingers brushing against your cheek in a touch that once would have made you feel more beloved than any woman in the world. but now? now, it was no different than the most potent of venom.

˚ ༘♡ your grimaced with revulsion, and before he could even register it, you jerked away, stepping back like his touch had burned you. niragi chuckled, shaking his head. “come on, don’t be like that,” he mused. “i promise we’ll have all the time in the world to catch up, after i finish with these two.”

˚ ༘♡ he moved to step around you, his patience wearing thin, but you blocked him again. this time, your stance was firmer, your hands clenching into fists at your sides, your fingernails digging into the skin of your palms. you could feel your pulse pounding in your throat, but you forced yourself to meet his gaze, unflinching.

˚ ༘♡ “niragi, please.”

˚ ༘♡ his name left your lips softer this time, stripped of the anger, stripped of the disbelief. it was a plea, not simply for arisu’s sake but for his, for the young man you once knew, the one you once loved.

˚ ༘♡ niragi hesitated. for a short while, something in his expression changed. you held his gaze, hoping, praying, that somewhere beneath the layers of cruelty and violence, he still remembered, those late-night phone calls, the way he used to look at you when he thought you weren’t watching, the warmth of his fingers laced through yours on lazy afternoons at the café. if there was anything left of that niragi, maybe, just maybe, he would stop.

˚ ༘♡ his smirk twitched, his tongue flicking over the silver piercing on his lip. then, with a lazy wave of his hand, he scoffed. “eh, whatever,” he muttered, swinging his rifle back over his shoulder as if nothing had happened. “this is no fun with you whining in my ear.” he turned away without another glance, striding off like he had already forgotten all about you. the rest of the men followed, their presence dissipating as quickly as it had arrived. aguni lingered for a tad longer, his expression obscured and harsh, before he, too, disappeared into his horde of followers.

˚ ༘♡ you stood bewildered, the tension in your body unraveling all at once, leaving only nausea in its wake. the atmosphere still buzzed with energy from the resort party, but it all felt so far away, like a different world entirely. your mind returned to arisu and usagi, they required your help.

˚ ༘♡ you spun on your heel and dropped to your knees beside him. he was still on the floor, barely conscious, his face drained of color, his body limp. usagi knelt beside him, pressing her zip-up jacket against his forehead to slow the bleeding. the fabric was already stained deep red.

˚ ༘♡ panic surged through you. you reached out, brushing arisu’s shoulder tenderly, trying to ground yourself as much as him. “i’ll get help, okay? stay here.”

˚ ༘♡ usagi nodded, her jaw tight, her focus entirely on arisu. you pushed yourself to your feet, your heart hammering as you turned and ran. you didn’t know where you were going. you didn’t even know who you could turn to in a place like this. but you had to hurry. arisu was losing too much blood, his life was in danger, because of niragi.

˚ ༘♡ your mind still couldn’t fully grasp it, the sheer impossibility of what he had become. your sweet and loving boyfriend you once knew was gone, replaced by a man who could smile through savagery, who could beat someone half to death and consider it entertainment.

˚ ༘♡ niragi was gone. whatever had taken his place, you weren’t sure you wanted to understand.

a/n: my first alice in borderland fanfiction! if you have any thoughts or requests, please let me know! 🤍

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