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monochromaticbeans · 4 months ago

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Glowstick Garden

Hikari and Rindou form a friendship over music in the final timeline. Bonus chapter for "Sakayume."

It was a Tuesday afternoon, which meant not much was happening at Groove Garden. The record store smelled of nag champa, old vinyl, and wood polish. An electric guitar leaned against its amp in the corner by the register, plastered with stickers of band logos and anime characters. Hikari perched on a stool, lazily tapping her fingers on the counter in rhythm to a Led Zeppelin track crooning through the speakers. Her eyes flicked up at the sound of the doorbell.

It was Haitani Rindou.

She didn’t dislike Rindou. Not exactly. But the Haitani brothers had a certain reputation—charismatic, dangerous, the type to push their luck and other people’s boundaries. And, well, Hikari had boundaries. Firm ones, thank you.

Rindou, for his part, looked like he belonged in an indie record store. His hoodie was half-zipped, revealing a black T-shirt with some obscure design on it. His hands were casually shoved in his pockets, and his expression had that perpetual “I’m probably cooler than you” look about it. He glanced around the shop before meeting her eyes.

“Yo,” he said.

“Yo,” she replied, noncommittal.

He sauntered toward the counter, head nodding slightly to the beat. “Nice track. Early Zeppelin, huh?”

“Yeah. ‘Good Times Bad Times.’” She tilted her head. “Didn’t peg you for a classic rock guy.”

“I’m not. But I appreciate the roots.” He leaned against the counter, looking like he was trying not to look like he was leaning against the counter. “You work here?”

“No, I just like standing behind registers for fun,” Hikari deadpanned.

“Touché,” he smirked. “I’m looking for turntables. My old set’s pretty much toast, and I heard this place gets good imports.”

“Sure does,” she said, hopping off the stool. She gestured for him to follow as she led him to the equipment section. “We’ve got Pioneer, Numark…even Technics if you’re feeling fancy.”

Rindou’s interest seemed genuine, which was surprising. Most people only wandered into Groove Garden to poke through vinyls, reminisce, or complain about how “nobody listens to real music anymore.” But as he ran his hands over the sleek turntables and asked about sound quality, Hikari found herself slightly warming to him. Slightly.

---

By the time Rindou made his fourth unannounced visit, Hikari wasn’t suspicious anymore. A bit exasperated, maybe, but not suspicious.

“You're back again?” she asked as he plunked a USB stick on the counter.

“I made a playlist,” he said. “Wanna hear it?”

Hikari arched an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because I trust your opinion,” he said, his tone a little too casual. “And I figured you’d be honest.”

It was hard to argue with that. She grabbed the stick and plugged it into the shop's sound system, scrolling through the tracks. The first one kicked in—an electronic beat that was surprisingly good. She glanced up.

“Did you mix this?”

“Yeah. It’s still rough, but…”

“Shut up. It’s good.”

He grinned, adjusting his glasses with one finger, leaning on the counter again as she fiddled with the volume. One track followed another, and before she knew it, they were cranking the speakers and Rindou had grabbed a handful of Sharpie markers from a cup beside the register.

“This,” Hikari said, twirling a green marker like it was a glow stick, “is possibly the dumbest thing I’ve ever done.”

“Liar,” Rindou said, waving a pair of red Sharpies around like he was summoning the spirit of rave culture.

She laughed, unable to deny it. The store became an impromptu dance floor as they swayed and spun, completely immersed in the music.

The doorbell jingled.

Hikari froze mid-twirl, Sharpies in her hands, as Baji Keisuke stood in the doorway holding a takeout bag. His expression vacillated between confusion and mild horror.

“What the hell are you two doing?”

Hikari grinned sheepishly, giving a light shrug. “Uh…team-building?”

Rindou, to his credit, didn’t stop waving his Sharpies. “You should join us, man. It’s fun.”

Keisuke didn’t move. His bronze eyes zeroed in on Rindou like a laser-guided missile. “Put the markers down, Haitani.”

Rindou smirked but complied, tossing the Sharpies onto the counter. Hikari tried to defuse the tension by sidling up to Keisuke and plucking the takeout bag from his hands.

“You brought lunch,” she said brightly, kissing his cheek. “You’re the best.”

He didn’t respond, his gaze still locked on Rindou like he was mentally compiling a list of ways to remove him from the premises.

—

Back at home that night, Rindou sprawled on his couch, headphones on, replaying the events of the day in his mind.

Hikari had surprised him from the start.

When he and Ran joined Toman after Tenjiku was defeated, they’d done what they always did—tested the waters and pushed buttons. With most people, it was easy to find weaknesses, to prod and poke until they snapped or showed their true colors. But Hikari was a wall. Tiny, yes, but utterly immovable when she decided to be.

She’d stared them both down without flinching, brushing off their provocations with a casual wit that had left Ran grinning and Rindou mildly annoyed. Even more impressive was how she carried herself in a fight. He remembered watching her with the First Division during the battle with Tenjiku, her small frame darting like a blur, delivering precise, devastating kicks and blows that left opponents twice her size crumpled on the ground.

And then there was her music.

The first time he’d heard her sing at a Toman meeting, he hadn’t expected much. He’d assumed it was just some girl noodling around with a guitar. But the moment she started playing, her voice, raw and rich, carried a kind of honesty that made him uncomfortable in the best way. It was clear that music wasn’t just a hobby for her—it was an extension of herself.

Now, lounging on his couch with his playlist thrumming in the background, he smirked.

Hikari was weird. Honest. Annoyingly stubborn.

And pretty damn cool.

He closed his eyes, letting the beat carry him.

Maybe being part of Toman wasn’t so bad.

---

Ten Years Later:

The Haitani Brothers’ nightclub was exactly what you’d expect from two guys who made chaos look like a fashion statement. It was sleek, trendy, and unapologetically loud, the kind of place that charged a small fortune for drinks but guaranteed you’d leave with stories to tell.

Hikari liked it…most of the time.

On this particular Friday night, the bass was cranked so high it felt like a second heartbeat. Strobe lights pulsed across the dance floor, and the crowd moved together in a hazy, rhythmic blur. Hikari stood by the bar, sipping a drink and fiddling with the little cocktail umbrella, her hood up to block out some of the chaos. She didn’t hate it—it was fun in small doses—but nights like these, the fun took a toll.

Rindou watched her from the DJ booth, his expert hands mixing tracks while his sharp eyes scanned the room. He’d noticed her pattern over the years. Hikari loved music, loved dancing, but there were limits. She’d last a couple of songs, step outside for air, and return with earplugs discreetly tucked into her ears. She’d never complain, but he saw the signs—the subtle way she rubbed her hands together, the tension in her shoulders, the way her smile turned a little too tight around the edges.

He didn’t say anything about it. He never did.

But a week later, Ran leaned on the bar with his usual casual arrogance, nursing a drink as Rindou sat across from him.

“So,” Ran drawled, “what’s with the calendar update? You serious about this ‘sensory night’ thing?”

Rindou shrugged, staring into his own glass. “Why not? Not everyone wants to be blasted by sound and lights all night. It’s just one night a month. Lower volume, softer lighting, quieter VIP rooms.”

“Hmm.” Ran smirked. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain friend of ours, would it?”

Rindou didn’t respond, which was answer enough.

—

Hikari had been a little skeptical when she heard about the new event at the club.

“I mean, it sounds great,” she said to Keisuke, who’d relayed the news over lunch. “But the Haitanis? Really?”

Keisuke shrugged, grabbing a dumpling with his chopsticks. “Even chaos gremlins grow up, I guess.”

It turned out to be better than she’d expected. The lights were dimmer and not strobing, the music subdued enough to let conversations happen without shouting, and the VIP rooms were open for anyone needing a quieter space. It wasn’t just Hikari who seemed to appreciate the change. She noticed a few other patrons on the dance floor with earmuffs and earplugs, and several couples sat in the corner booths, chatting in low, comfortable tones.

Hikari leaned on the bar, sipping a soda and tapping her fingers in time with the beat. It was perfect.

“Enjoying yourself?”

She turned to find Rindou standing beside her, a grin on his face. He wasn’t in the DJ booth tonight—he’d left that to one of their other employees—but he still carried the energy of someone who owned the place. Which he did.

“It’s great,” she admitted, raising her glass. “I didn’t think you’d be the type to plan something like this.”

“Yeah, well.” He looked away, pretending to focus on the dance floor. “Some people like the loud chaos. Others don’t. Figured we could cater to both.”

She tilted her head, studying him. “What brought this on?”

He shrugged, but she caught the faintest flicker of a smile. “Just seemed like a good idea.”

Rindou didn’t elaborate, but the truth was simple: he’d noticed.

He’d noticed the way Hikari loved music but shielded herself from loud noises. He’d noticed how her fingers danced on invisible guitar strings when a good song played, and how she always smiled a little brighter when the volume was just right. And he’d noticed the other patrons, too—the ones who occasionally stepped outside for air, who wore earplugs or winced at the strobing, bright lights.

It wasn’t about changing the world, or even changing the nightclub. It was just about making a space where people like Hikari could exist without compromise.

And, if he was honest, he liked seeing her enjoy herself without reservation.

Hikari didn’t push him for more answers. She just smiled, that soft, genuine smile he recognized as something special.

“Thanks for this,” she said, her voice audible over the music without shouting, for once.

“Don’t mention it,” he replied, and he meant it.

The night wound down slowly, the music easing into softer tempos as patrons filtered out. Hikari found herself leaning against the bar again, lazily drumming her fingers to the beat of a slow, jazzy remix. Rindou returned from a quick lap around the floor, a bottled water in hand, and plopped down on the stool next to her.

“You sticking around until we close?” he asked, twisting the cap off his water.

“Maybe,” she replied, smirking. “Depends. Think I’ll get kicked out if I start a Sharpie rave?”

Rindou choked on his water, coughing hard enough to draw a few glances. “Are you serious right now?”

“Completely,” Hikari deadpanned. “I could probably find some in your office. Just saying.”

He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”

“Nope.” She popped the ‘p’ for emphasis.

“Great,” he muttered, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward despite himself.

Hikari leaned closer, her purple eyes sparkling with mischief. “C’mon, you know it was fun. Admit it.”

“Fine,” he said with exaggerated reluctance. “It was… mildly fun.”

“Mildly?” she echoed, laughing. “That’s the best you’ve got?”

“Take it or leave it,” he shot back, but his grin betrayed him.

Keisuke chose that exact moment to walk in, surveying the bar with the familiar intensity of someone who didn’t trust the Haitanis as far as he could throw them. His gaze landed on Rindou and Hikari, and his eyebrows furrowed.

“Are you bothering her?” Keisuke asked bluntly.

“No,” Hikari said, grinning. “Just reminiscing about the Sharpie rave.”

Keisuke's eyes narrowed, recalling the memory. “Don’t remind me.”

“Don’t worry, Baji,” Rindou said smoothly. “We’re fresh out of Sharpies tonight.”

Hikari burst out laughing, and even Keisuke couldn’t help the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. Her laugh was infectious and it got to him every time.

“Good,” Keisuke said gruffly, though his tone lacked any real bite. “But if I hear about any more marker raves, Haitani, we’re gonna have words.”

“Noted,” Rindou replied, raising his water bottle in mock surrender.

As Keisuke turned away, muttering something about “weirdos,” Hikari leaned her chin on her hand, still chuckling. “You know, for someone who doesn’t trust you, he tolerates you surprisingly well.”

“I like to think I’m growing on him,” Rindou said, smirking.

Hikari snorted. “Yeah, like a fungus.”

Rindou rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress his grin. “Keep talking like that, and I will bust out the Sharpies.”

“Oh no,” Hikari said dryly, holding up her hands. “Anything but that.”

And for the first time that night, Rindou laughed—real and unguarded, the kind of sound that made the quiet moments worth it.

#tokyo revengers #toman #baji keisuke #keisuke baji #haitani brothers #rindou haitani #fanfiction #fanfic #short fics

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