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A Friend In Me: Chapter 4

Yandere Platonic Toman

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Chapters 1 | 2‎ | 3

Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‎‎

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‎

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

”Fuck- Watch out!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‎

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A snort. “Try it, motherfu-”

‎

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Money.

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

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

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

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

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

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

‎

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‎

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”Your sign-off.”

”No.”

Kisaki let out an exasperated sigh. “Mikey-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‎

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah.”

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

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

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

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

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

‎

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‎

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey assfaces!”

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

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

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

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

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

Uh oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‎

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‎

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

He was already cold when the first sirens arrived.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A liar and a murderer.

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cheesus-doodles · 9 days

Note

just read your going home series!! so excited for the next part ♡ the tension is SO HIGH

Going Home: Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

‎

thank you anon! glad to hear that, yes its finally getting real! takemichi finally being dragged into the mix along with the rest of Toman and Bonten ahhhhh

will try my best to get another chapter out asap cause i'm excited to tell the story as well! <3

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cheesus-doodles · 9 days

Note

This brown haired girl that’s in all your comissioned art, I suppose she’s technically Y/N considering she’s in comissions from series and she represents Y/N, but I was wondering. Is she supposed to be you cheese? Or one of your OCs?

She's one possible representation of Y/N yes, but everyone has their own representation and I try to keep things as open and vague as possible as everyone can insert their own reader!

She's actually an OC of mine! Doesn't really have a name because I created her to be Boss from the Red Dragonflies lol (I can only hope to be so pretty unfortunately /jk)

I'm pretty bad with designing characters ngl, especially female characters, so I usually just go with a single design per fandom and reuse the same character design :')

#cheesus answers #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #yandere tokyo revengers #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev #yandere tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev oc

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cheesus-doodles · 9 days

Text

A Friend In Me: Chapter 4

Yandere Platonic Toman

‎‎‎

Chapters 1 | 2‎ | 3

Masterlist

‎‎

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

‎

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

‎‎

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

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

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

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

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

‎

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

”Fuck- Watch out!”

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

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

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

‎

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

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

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

A snort. “Try it, motherfu-”

‎

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

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

Money.

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

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

‎

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

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

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

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

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

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

‎

”Your sign-off.”

”No.”

Kisaki let out an exasperated sigh. “Mikey-“

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

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

‎

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

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

“Ah.”

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

‎

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

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

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

‎

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

“Hey assfaces!”

Uh oh.

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

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

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

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

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

‎

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

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

‎

He was already cold when the first sirens arrived.

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

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

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

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

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

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

A liar and a murderer.

84 notes · View notes

cheesus-doodles · 9 days

Text

A Friend In Me: Chapter 4

Yandere Platonic Toman

‎‎‎

Chapters 1 | 2‎ | 3

Masterlist

‎‎

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

‎

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

‎‎

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

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

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

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

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

‎

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

”Fuck- Watch out!”

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

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

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

‎

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

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

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

A snort. “Try it, motherfu-”

‎

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

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

Money.

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

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

‎

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

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

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

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

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

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

‎

”Your sign-off.”

”No.”

Kisaki let out an exasperated sigh. “Mikey-“

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

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

‎

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

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

“Ah.”

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

‎

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

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

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

‎

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

“Hey assfaces!”

Uh oh.

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

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

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

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

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

‎

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

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

‎

He was already cold when the first sirens arrived.

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

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

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

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

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

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

A liar and a murderer.

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cheesus-doodles · 17 days

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About the AO3 "No Guest Comments for a while" warning

If you're not following any of AO3's social media accounts you might be in the dark as to what kind of "spam comments" have engendered this banner at the top of the site:

These spam comments have been posted about a great deal on the AO3 subreddit for the past couple of days. Initially they comprised a bunch of guest (logged out users) bot comments that insulted authors by suggesting they were using AI and not writing their own fics. Some examples, from the subreddit:

But it then escalated to outright graphic porn images and gifs being posted in comments, again by logged out 'Guest' accounts. Obviously, I'm not going to give examples of those, but between these two bot infestations, AO3 has clearly decided to act and has temporarily closed the ability to post comments for users who are not logged in with an AO3 account.

Unfortunately, this means that genuine readers who don't have an AO3 account won't be able to leave comments on fics that they enjoy.

If you are a genuine reader who doesn't yet have an AO3 account, I strongly suggest getting yourself on the waiting list for one. More and more AO3 authors are now locking their fics down to registered users only - either due to these bot comments or concerns about AI scraping their work - which means you're probably missing out on a lot of great stuff.

Hopefully guest commenting will be enabled again at some point soon, but I suggest not waiting until then. Get yourself on that list.

Wait times are going to be longer than usual at the moment, due to the current Wattpad purge [info on Fanlore | Wattpad subreddit thread], but if you're in line, then your invite will come through eventually.

Update: There's now a Megathread about this on the AO3 subreddit.

#info #ao3 #cheesus reblogs #take note yall!

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cheesus-doodles · 20 days

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No post today as I'm still working on A Friend in Me, but please enjoy this very aesthetic piece of Rindo sharing a bubble tea with his BFF (emphasis on BFF, nothing more, Rindo swears!), drawn by TEENLIN from DA!

‎‎

You can read the whole series on Yan BFF Rindo here: Rindo Tags, or from my Masterlist :) have a good Friday and weekend everyone!

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cheesus-doodles · 20 days

Text

A Friend In Me: Chapter 3

Yandere Platonic Toman

‎‎

<< Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Masterlist

‎‎‎

Been a hot minute since this got a new chapter, I sold my soul to get this out. but nil it feels great

An insistent tug on your arm. “Come on!”

“Mikey, slow down! I can only walk so fast,” you laughed out as you allowed the eager boy to all but drag you down the street, your feet at times seemingly lifting off the ground when even your quickened strides couldn’t keep up. The rest of your Toman friends were content with following behind at a more leisurely pace, savoring the rare breeze that broke up the fierce afternoon heat while chatting and laughing among themselves, though this light temperament was far from the norm that you experienced in the past week. Not that you were complaining - you were going to enjoy this peace for as long as it lasted. “You still haven’t told me where we’re going.”

Yet the Toman President made no effort to hide his impatience or slow his speed, instead letting out what sounded to you like a cross between a grunt and a whine as he attempted to get you to speed up by any means besides outright dragging you. “Walk faster,” Mikey insisted again, completely ignoring your second statement as his other hand reached up, this time to tug at the hem of your school uniform’s shirt, as if his words were a magic potion that could hurry you along. But alas, it was not to be, with you remaining the sole obstacle that stood between the trailing boys and Mikey’s full sprint ahead; it was clear that the delinquent was not against simply sweeping you up into his arms and making a break for it. You knew you barely weighed anything to the blond-haired delinquent, and you wouldn’t be against it either, but you knew who would be: the five very unhappy founders chasing after him cursing up a storm.

A light chuckle slipped your lips at Mikey’s pout, your hand lifting to gently ruffle the neatly tied hair that you had helped painstakingly wrangle into submission earlier this morning. Goodness only knows how Draken manages to do it so effortlessly; you must have taken at least twenty minutes, compared to his usual five. “We’ll get there eventually, wherever this is,” you assured the grumpy gang president. “Just takes a little longer, alright?”

‎

As if on cue, Draken’s irate voice rang out. “Oi Mikey! Slow down you idiot!”

The otherwise quiet street that you were strolling down was one of many amidst this small suburb that bordered the edge of the greater city of Tokyo, still sleepy at this time of the day; the few souls that you spotted occasionally wandering across traffic-less roads in the distance skewed heavily towards the elderly. The afternoon sun that loafed about in the sky above was seemingly a siren’s call for students to anywhere but this exact avenue, though one glance at the boys around you and you could confidently make a few accurate guesses. Despite the relaxed postures and lazy smiles that pulled at their faces, you knew deep down that all it would take would be a single provocation and a blink for everything to change.

After all, it had just been a week prior when Mikey and the others had found out about your new friend, and the tantrums you had to deal with were explosive to put it mildly. No doubt that Baji had seen that cheeky - and impromptu, you were sure - kiss that had been given to you that night, yet even after knowing them for as long as you had, you couldn’t recall a time when you had seen pure anger raging behind those empty eyes of Mikey’s, or when Kazutora had last clutched you tight enough to bruise his handprint into your skin. You had pondered this for a long while, taking the time to think in the dark of the night when whichever lucky soul who’s turn it was to snuggle right up against you had long fallen asleep. Was this also the reason why the Toman founders had all been on edge the past seven days, reluctant to let you out of their sight for but a second? Had they always been this way?

Or was it because the ‘enemy’ was a boy like them?

You couldn’t say for sure as always, given that last you checked you hadn’t developed any mind-reading abilities, but it did seem to you that the six of them had only stepped up their protectiveness of you further, something you hadn’t thought possible. Perhaps you were imagining things, despite the slightest bit of unease that had settled at the bottom of your gut. But as naive as you might be, you weren’t completely oblivious to the ongoings around you. Your sweet boys had always been a tad overbearing with their care for you, scaring off anyone who didn’t have the strongest of hearts. But it didn’t feel like you had any time left to spend alone, with one or the other always close by, if not for directly hanging off from you. Maybe you could grab a minute or so in the bathroom, if you didn’t count the light taps or the sniffling you could hear through the door. They even seemed more…clingy, if you had to put a word to it - almost like they were trying to scent their territory; insisting on making you wear their jackets while stubbornly squeezing into yours, rolling all over your sheets. Almost like cats.

A chuckle, and you pushed that thought to the back of your head. Okay no, you were definitely just imagining things now.

��‎

“Hey Mikey,” A loud clap as Baji slammed one hand into a vice clamp around Mikey’s shoulder, and you let out a yelp as you were dragged backwards together with the blond-haired delinquent still insistently attached to your arm. It seemed that the moment you had taken for some well-intentioned self-reflection was just taken as another opportunity for more squabbling.

The Toman President seemed barely bothered despite the veins popping on Baji’s hand with the effort and strength he was putting into his grip, simply annoyed at being disturbed. “Huh? What do you want?”

“Draken said to slow down.” The black-haired Captain emphasized, his single sharp tooth bared as he gestured vaguely at you. “You blind or something? Can’t you see you’re walking too fast?”

Those were definitely fighting words, you knew as much. And then when Baji helped himself to your other arm, with only the cheeriest and cutest smile for you as he snuggled into your side and no angry words or looks in sight, Mikey puffed up in indignation, one hand shooting out in an attempt to pry his new rival off. “Hey! I didn’t say you can hold on too!”

“Huh? I don’t see your name anywhere here!” Baji dodged the attempted grab at his hair with a quick swish of his head, and you oofed as the mob smacked straight into your face. “Oh- uh, sorry,” he mumbled, before launching straight back into retaliation.

Regardless of what the boys thought or felt, for once, you had made up your mind. And come hell or high water, you would be damned if you didn’t see this new friendship through. As much as you loved your friends, this was your life after all, and you simply had to prove to yourself that you could. “You know, Baji, Mikey, you still haven’t told me where we are going,” you gently reminded, throwing one arm over Baji’s and Mikey’s necks in a playful gesture. “Can’t pull me out of class and not tell me.”

It was enough of a distraction for the duo to stop and look at you, and it was clear that the revelation finally hit home. “We’re going to Shinichiro’s shop!” Mikey announced proudly, those abyss eyes turned at you as if expecting something. Praise? Revere?

All he got unfortunately was confusion, and you cocked your head at him, eyebrows furrowing. “Shinichiro?” You repeated.

“Mikey’s older brother,’ Baji filled in helpfully, his smack to the back of said boy’s head finally landing.

“Ye, he owns a bike shop around here,” Mikey continued at your persistent bewildered look. “Sells bikes and does repairs and stuff.”

Your mind instantly jumped back to the week before Mikey’s birthday, and your lips quirked as the dots began to connect. You had thought the little grandma running the small stand at the previous corner had looked awfully familiar. And something was telling you that you had been down this road previously: was it that day that you had skipped class to pick up the custom fuel tank cover? Though you said nothing, biting your tongue to stop yourself from saying more. You supposed you were going to find out soon if you already knew this Shinichiro. Yet before your little smile could drop, a single telltale sniffle was all you had as a warning, and you were tackled unceremoniously from the back by one very distraught Kazutora.

‎

‎‎‎

But despite the squeals and laughter that filled the otherwise quiet, humming heat, not all was well, Draken and Mitsuya mutely throwing looks at each other in an unspoken conversation behind your back. You certainly weren’t privy to the many undercurrents swirling just below the surface, brewing like a storm biding its time in its cracking glass bottle; and unknown to you, your little adventures out with that wretched buddy of yours weren’t missed by any of the six Toman founders. No, they were more than keenly aware of all the times you had tried to steal away to join him, that bastard of a black-haired boy: why were you so keen to share your affection with a total stranger? To pamper and hand feed him the lunch you had made him to begin with, with this piece of trash not lifting a finger to help you?

You knew that they didn’t approve, by the way you were so very careful with when you leave to join him, always looking around to try and see if you had any tails and picking more secluded spots you didn’t hang out at when you were with them. You knew that your Toman friends would be angered at you risking your life so frivolously, so why? Was this how little you valued yourself? All to date a member of a rival gang behind their backs and against their explicit orders?

Yet you persisted. And for what? Someone who would never care for you like they did? Someone who would toss you to the side at the first hint of trouble?

It was clear that nothing they did or said seemed to get through your thick skull. So it was time to step it up. If you refused to listen to them, then as the Tokyo Manji Gang, the six founders would simply have to make you listen. It was tough even to think about it; the last thing they wanted was to scare you more than they already did, to lose your smile and laughter, the love you clearly had for your dear friends. But your safety came first, and if you couldn’t be trusted to behave yourself in the few moments that you had to yourself, then more drastic measures were needed, whether you liked it or not. Confining you to your house was an option they had considered: it was a familiar environment where you could be comfortable, and it didn’t seem like there was anyone else home at any point in time.

Though it was clearly a question for another time, with Pah shouting a warning right before you nearly tripped over a misplaced foot from Baji. The vein that had already been throbbing on Draken’s forehead almost popped, the Vice-President marching forward with an angered shout.

‎‎

A stone’s throw away and hidden within the four walls of one of many shops that line the street, a simple clock hung on the far wall merrily ticking away. A school day it was supposed to be, yet neither of the two school-aged boys present had any intention of returning to their dull classes, instead choosing to spend their time in this unassuming motorcycle shop at the edge of this quiet Tokyo suburb.

Inupi couldn’t help but note how odd a pair the two in front of him made, standing side by side in the small shop; Koko clad in a pristine uniform, still as clean and tidy as when he had left for school earlier, and Shinichiro in a questionably clean t-shirt and a half-stripped overall, sleeves lazily tied around his deceptively thin waist. The otherwise quiet showfloor was almost as if a picture that one could pick out from a driving magazine: the afternoon sun pouring in through the floor-to-ceiling glass storefront and onto rows of less glamorous motorcycles up for sale, the well-scrubbed yet worn tiles of the shop floor, and in the middle of all the clutter and action, the surrounded lit centerpiece that drew one’s eyes naturally. And it was easy to understand the fascination Shinichiro had: the top of the line cruiser 2003 Honda Valkyrie that was now front and center in the shop was an eye-catching beast of the road. The polished black metal gleamed under the strong spotlights that flooded down from the ceiling, the long, low-strung frames that took inspiration from retro styles of a time long past, a shiny, silver flat-six engine that purred effortlessly down the road just half an hour earlier, and decked out in double studded leather seats and chrome finishing that added the air of sophistication that screamed Koko. Nothing short of a masterpiece.

Shinichiro took a long drag from his smoldering cigarette, abyss eyes never once leaving the bike that stood propped in front of him. “A 2003 Valkyrie?” The man asked, looking over the cruiser motorcycle with an appreciative eye - it was rare for something of this make, let alone one with such a high price tag, to pass through his shop, and the enthusiast was certainly taking the opportunity to appreciate it up close. “Brand new?”

A rhetorical question, given how little soot or dirt there was to be found on the tips of his finger even after a low swipe across the exhaust pipes; yet the younger of the two almost puffed up in pride as he answered. “Yep. Brand new,” Koko confirmed, both hands tucked into the pockets of his school uniform’s pants. But that was the only response Shinichiro received, with the black-haired boy reluctant to say anything more that could get him into unnecessary trouble; with the kind of business the rising delinquent star runs, one could never be sure who was listening. Or asking.

“Not going to ask how a kid gets a brand new bike,” Shinichiro chuckled back, no doubt having picked up on the hesitation that lingered in the air - a former ruffian himself, there were always things that were better left unsaid and unknown. Bending over to squint closer at the horizontally configured six-cylinder engine, a low appreciative whistle slipped the older man’s lips. “I’ve never seen one of these in Japan before, it’s huge.”

“First of its kind here, straight from the factory in America.” A fond chuckle, Koko seemingly inclined to open up a bit more about his purchase after the promise of secrecy. “1800cc engine. It’s not the most orthodox ride, I’ll give you that.”

“Twin seats huh?” This ignited a curiosity in Shinichiro, who leaned ever so slightly towards the other, as if discussing a conspiracy or a national secret. “Taking a little birdie for a ride?” Those wiggling eyebrows and cheeky grin were gold coming from Shinichiro of all people.

“...Perhaps,” muttered Koko, his gaze now dropping away towards the tired green shop floor. The flush that brushed across his cheeks evaporated back into the cool air-conditioned breeze as quickly as it appeared, though the vanishing thought was caught by the two others in attendance; nothing more needed to be said for them to understand where his mind had wandered to in the brief moment.

Shinichiro only threw his head back in laughter, as if his own misfortune with the ladies had just crossed his mind, reassuringly patting his counterpart on the back before straightening up to his full height. “So what can I do for you on this fine day?”

From one quiet corner of the shop, a pair of blue eyes raised to glance at the two for a moment before slipping back down to the dimly lit screen. Despite having looked down at his phone for the majority of the conversation, fingers scrolling mindlessly through endless messages to an unknown rhythm, the back and forth banter taking place nor the blush was not lost on Inupi, too unusual for the stoic boy to ignore. For one, it was strange for Koko to even step foot here in a motorcycle shop of all places, let alone being able to hold his own in a conversation about machines he once dubbed as nothing more than money sinks. The already notorious financier with a Midas touch that preceded his reputation had never previously shown the slightest interest in bikes, but Inupi had little question on the reason for the change of heart.

And for two, well, there was Koko’s newfound interest in you. The reason behind the rare touch of rossiness to grace his friend’s fair skin. No doubt you were to thank for the sudden change in the black-haired boy’s heart, and Inupi found himself appreciating your existence in their lives just slightly more, whoever you might be - not that Inupi would know. Koko hasn’t introduced you to him yet.

‎

The night that the Black Dragon member learned about you wasn’t one that he could shake from the front of his mind, despite it having already been two weeks since. An already out-of-the-norm night two weeks ago, given the surprise thunderstorm that swept across the city with but a single roar that almost drenched his beloved bookshelf of manga had he not scrambled to shut his room’s windows. Yet despite his expectations of the rain being the most noteworthy event of the day, given how class just seemed to drag on forever and gang activities being at a lull, it was the pounding of the front door that brought both a welcomed break from the boredom and an excuse for his continued disregard of homework. The rain outside poured unrelentingly from the sky, pounding down onto the earth as if a sea had been turned upside down, an impassable wall of water. But against all odds, there on his doorstep stood a very drenched Koko, almond eyes blown wide in panic and panting, gasping for air.

Before Inupi could even say a word or ask his best friend what had gotten his knickers in a twist, the black-haired boy had grabbed him by both shoulders, shaking him bodily. “I-I-Inupi!” Was all Koko managed to stammer out, pale face obviously sweating despite being completely drenched in the freezing rainwater. And although his mouth continued to move as if saying words, no sound followed. The blond delinquent didn't think he had seen his friend in such a right state since his sister’s passing: the usually materialistic, calculative Koko was good at hiding his emotions behind a facade.

There was only one thing he could do in the moment to break the other from the spiral. Lifting one hand, it was the loud smack of skin meeting flesh that echoed through the sleepy household, Koko’s face being blown to one side, effectively silencing the feverish muttering. Almond-shaped eyes instantly whirled around, catching sight of Inupi’s still raised hand in the opposite direction of where he had been left facing; evidence of what had just happened. “W-wha- Inupi?”

“Is your head screwed back on proper now, Hajime Kokonoi?” Came Inupi’s stoic voice.

Said boy instantly staggered back a step as Inupi raised his hand threateningly once more, both hands flying up in defense. “I’m good! I’m alright now,” Koko hastily assured, the slight swell and reddening of his struck cheek clear even in the dim yellow foyer light.

“Good. What happened?”

But it was undeniable to icy blue eyes that Koko was in no state to answer his question at the moment, the other middle schooler shivering in his soaked t-shirt and loose long pants. “C-can I come in first at least? It’s freezing!” The black-haired boy complained, though he had no intention of waiting for a response, pausing for just a mere moment for Inupi to move aside before hurrying out from the dark night and into the light and warmth of the familiar house.

A lightning strike illuminated Koko against the backdrop of a quiet housing estate and torrential droplets of rain that poured from gloomy clouds hanging low in the night sky, with a booming clap of thunder that shook the very air quickly following. It was already uncharacteristically late for Koko to still be up, given how much he valued his beauty sleep, but there was still something that was off with this picture. Something that Inupi couldn’t quite lay his finger on, as those blue eyes scanned the unyielding dark of the pouring night again and again.

And then it hit him with the second bolt of lightning; what was missing was the noticeable lack of reflection behind his shivering friend, the hazy light of the streetlamp that had stood faithfully outside of his family home for years shining onto nothing but pavement. “Where’s your bike?”

Koko didn’t seem to hear the question, simply turning sideways to attempt to squeeze past Inupi who had yet to shift from where he had been standing in the middle of the doorway. But the blond boy persisted, his arm shooting out to stop Koko, the concern in his voice growing. “What happened to your bike? Did you walk here?” His friend had just bought that CB250T, and Inupi wasn’t going to let him go without an answer.

No fight was needed. “I sold it.” Came the black-haired boy’s absentminded response, blurted out without a second thought in much the similar manner as how a Magic 8-ball would spit out an answer.

There was a pause as Inupi stared back unblinking at Koko, digesting the answer he received. One second turned into two. His jaw hit the ground as the gears in his mind came to a grinding halt. “You sold it?” Inupi repeated in disbelief, unable to comprehend what those three words meant in the moment. He knew that the other had just bought the bike not a week ago, and even though Koko hadn’t explained the rationale behind why he had finally made the leap, the young financier wasn’t one to make such a rash decision. Such a beat-up bike couldn’t have been flipped for any profit at all. “You sold it? To who?”

And then the weight of what had just slipped from his lips hit Koko like a skillet to his face. In a blink, a panicked look had washed over his face, the black-haired boy freezing mid-step, gaping like a fish out of water. “I-I- I sold it to…to this…this person.”

“A person? A boy? A girl?”

“I sold it to… to a person, okay?!”

The blond-haired boy raised both hands in surrender as the tone in Koko’s voice hitched up into desperation with a fine touch of aggression at the constant questioning, eyes blown wide by turbulent, unspoken thoughts. “Alright, alright, you sold it to a person,” Inupi pacified, making a mental note to circle back to this touchy topic later, instead taking pity on how miserable his friend looked in the moment, drenched and shivering. “Why not you head to the kitchen first? I’ll get you a towel and a hot drink.”

It was a welcomed break for both of them; Koko taking the time to warm up after his mad journey through the midnight thunderstorm, and Inupi to gather his many thoughts. The pattering of rain against the glass of shut kitchen windows sounded a lot more peaceful when listening from inside a warm room. “So why are you here now? You need another bike?”

“I need help,” Koko admitted. Inupi startled, almost dropping the two cups of steaming chocolate he had just made. The straightforwardness was not something he had expected from his long-time best friend. “I… promised that I could help with the replacement and repairing of parts.” His voice dropped off, sounding almost…sheepish.

Ah. Everything suddenly made sense.

“But- but I don’t know how a motorcycle works! I don’t even know what engine that wreck had!” Now all but yanking at the roots of his hair, it was clear that the usually calm and collected financier had finally dug himself into a hole money couldn’t buy him out of. Inupi would have laughed at the scene if the other hadn’t been as distraught. “I’m doomed.”

Yet before the biker gang delinquent could open his mouth, Koko rushed on. “You want to revive the Black Dragons? I’ll help you. I’ll introduce you to a guy I know. Please Inupi, you gotta help me.” That shut his jaw back with a click. He was already going to say yes - after all, what kind of friend would he be if he didn’t help out with something so simple? But now with the added reward…

Inupi nodded firmly, pushing the mug of hot chocolate closer towards Koko. “I’ll help. Drink up.”

‎

“Louder rev. I like the purr but I want more roar.” A blink, and Koko’s answer brought Inupi back to reality from his musing on the past - had he missed anything? Not that he could say for sure, but his friend’s next question came loaded with more hesitancy. “Is that going to impact safety?”

Inupi shook his head, clearing his rambling thoughts from his head with the simple movement: it didn’t matter if he didn’t know who you were or what you looked like. It was clear that your presence was already making a difference to Koko, and that was enough for him. Even if his best friend had only shifted his attachment and obsession onto a new target, albeit one who was alive and capable of returning the care and attention that Koko yearned for, maybe, slowly but surely, Koko could one day move on from Akane. Forgive himself for what he couldn’t do in the past. Maybe you could help mend the hole in Koko’s heart.

And that alone was worth all those sleepless nights Inupi spent by Koko’s side, secretly helping to answer the questions you fielded through the phone to an anxious, sweating boy who didn’t know the smallest thing about motorcycles.

The cool air that sank down from the air-conditioning above was a relief from the unrelenting heat outside, though it failed to stop the seemingly never-ending waft of smoke that drifted up from the middle of the store and disappeared into the ducts. A grunt of acknowledgement as Shinichiro clenched down on his smoldering cigarette, kneeling back down and leaning to take a closer look at the Valkyrie’s exhaust pipes. “On this new a bike? Won’t be a problem. But...” The older man trailed off, lost in thought as he stared down the muffler. “Probably will have to take some measurements before recommending anything.”

Koko shrugged. “I can leave it here with you for a night or two, no problem. Just need it back by the weekend.”

“I’ll get it done by then,” Shinichiro promised, sticking out a thumbs-up, cheeky grin pulling at his lips once more. “Done in time for your little friend.”

It took everything for the younger of the two black-haired boys to stop his eyes from rolling into the back of his head, though he couldn’t deny the blush that washed over his cheeks. “Whatever,” he muttered, kicking one foot at nothing before sulking off to one dark corner of the motorcycle shop, eager to get away from potentially being teased further about his heated face as well. Ah, young love.

Biting his tongue to swallow the laugh that the older Sano could feel bubbling up, warm black eyes now turned to land on the young delinquent who had been sitting quietly in the corner. Small mobile phone in hand and dressed in full gang uniform, it was a far cry from the prim and proper school uniform that his friend had opted for; the white uniform with bold black words proclaiming him as a proud Black Dragon eye-catching against the matte blue steel racks lining the back of the shop. “So what can I do for you today, Inupi?”

The recent memory of the almost spectacular defeat of the Ninth Generation Black Dragon instantly came rocketing straight to the front of his memory once more, and despite Inupi’s best efforts, the usually stoic boy flinched. The humiliation was still fresh and jarring, and Shinichiro caught it loud and clear. The former delinquent immediately held out one empathetic hand, stopping Inupi before he could speak. “It’s okay, you know?”

Said blond boy blinked. “What?”

“To lose. I heard what happened.”

“But-”

“But nothing,” Shinichiro emphasized, even as he stood from where he had been crouched in front of the Valkyrie, picking up his tool box and stretching. “Shit happens. You win, you lose. It’s not your fault, stop taking it so personally.”

It wasn’t okay. And it was his fault. If only- maybe if he had been stronger. Maybe if he had been the President instead of Shion. “But I promised-”

“You promised Izana to look after the gang, didn’t you?” The former Black Dragon captain waved the younger delinquent over, inviting him to come closer as he turned his attention to tinkling on spare engine parts. “And you did. You tried your best.”

Inupi fell silent, processing the words that hung heavy in the air. Did he really do all that he could? Did he do enough?

A slap to his back broke him out of his thoughts to the sight of a laughing Shinichiro. “Come on, don’t look so serious! You’ll be fine. Tell me what’s going on with your life, found yourself a pretty girl yet?”

‎

The once sprawled out squad, with you and Mikey ahead and your other five friends trailing behind, had already been abandoned just five minutes into this after-school stroll you had been cajoled into. Compressed back into a single large group, you found yourself bogged down by not just one, but three clingy boys latched on to various parts of your body and limbs, Mikey and Baji each tugging at one arm and busy bickering with each other about whether you liked taiyaki or peyoung yakisoba better, while Kazutora seemed just happy to be able to hold you by the hem of your recently untucked school shirt from the back.

“Are yall done whining?” Mitsuya drawled, his hand coming down in a chopping motion to the top of an unbothered Kazutora, said boy only taking the opportunity shuffling closer to you and resting his chin on your shoulder, all the while grumbling slightly. “You’re being a bother.”

Mikey and Baji whirled around as one, disbelief plastered across their faces. “We are not,” the duo insisted in unison, even though it had been Kazutora that took the brunt of the very light hit, their clutches on your arms tightening slightly as your two velcros attempted to snuggle even closer into you, two pairs of abyss and yellow eyes turning up to you. “Tell him!”

You didn’t want to complain and break their hearts - not with those pouty puppy eyes they had turned up to full blast at you - but the cool breeze that previously brought relief had already died down several minutes earlier, and now burdened with the full brunt of the afternoon heat, your attached walking radiators weren’t helping much. “Baji and Mikey are fine,” you simply shook your head, an indulgent smile on your face, despite you were already starting to feel a bit faint from the heat and the effort of walking with the extra weight of two. Curse your soft heart.

Before you could open your mouth to answer, the two boys were yanked up by the back of their shirts by a now completely-annoyed Draken, forcing them to release their vice grip on you lest they drag you up into the air as well. “That’s enough from the two of you,” Draken grumbled, the two shorter delinquents comically kicking and flailing while suspended, though ultimately helpless against the much taller Vice Captain. You couldn’t help but giggle at the sight, and earned yourself very despondent looks in return.“You alright?” Black eyes scanned your face carefully, ignoring the fuss as he effortlessly kept the problem duo in the air, patiently waiting for you to collect yourself; it was nice that your dilemma had been noticed.

“I’m fine now, thanks Ken-chin!” Beaming up at the taller boy, you gave him a reassuring nod. Saying no to people so dear certainly wasn’t a strong suit of yours, though fortunately for you, you had someone looking out for your wellbeing.

Dropping his whining charges back onto their feet, you had little doubt that both were already to jump you once more had it not been for Mitsuya’s hand shooting out to catch Kazutora by his ear, who very obviously and very painfully twisted the sensitive part as he forced your last clinger to release you. “Ow-ow-ow, Mitsuya, that hurts!”

“I asked,” the lilac-haired boy reiterated, that unquestionable tone of an older sibling demanding obedience leaking out from the usually level-headed Second Division Captain. “If you three are done.” Your giggles only turned into full blown laughter at Kazutora’s miserable look as he started to whine and complain about the unfair treatment.

Another twenty minutes was what it ultimately took for you to finally make it to your destination which turned out to be only the street after; if not for all the fuss and the dragging of feet, you were sure it would have only taken a mere five minutes. Yet every step forward only seemed to feed into the growing feeling of anticipation; you were only more and more certain that the same person Mikey was so eager to belong to was the ‘oji-san’ you had met before. No wonder he had a perfect part for your fixer-upper part lying around. No wonder those abyss eyes of his felt so familiar. Musing if your new friend had known when he recommended the shop after selling you that CB250T, you quickly left that train of thought behind; perhaps he wouldn’t have been so eager to help if he had known about your boys’ distaste of his existence.

As you turned the final corner, the white awning, stretching out lazily and throwing its shadow across the pavement, was the first thing you saw, long before you could see that tired yet warm storefront: a kingdom’s banner declaring the bike shop’s existence amidst the wider world. The road was otherwise quiet though not without activity, the occasional car speeding by and leaving nothing by the rumble of its engine behind as it raced down the street and disappeared round the next bend. Bathing in the unforgiving heat was a little easier without the additional weight, though the slight breeze that had picked up once more was a small relief to your panting skin.

The lit interior of the shop had barely come into view when your group of friends started to slow down into a leisurely stroll, and you could almost see the start of what would be rows of shiny new motorcycles formed into neat makeshift aisles lining the shop floor. Despite having only been here twice - once to detail your custom order for Mikey’s birthday bike and the other to pick it up - you were already looking forward to meeting the nice, friendly ‘ojisan’ again. There was no more doubt to be had, and you couldn’t quite hold back your laughter any longer as you turned to look at your blond-haired friend shuffling along sulkingly. “I think,” you giggled, covering your mouth with one hand. “I think I know who your older brother is, Mikey.”

That instantly got the group’s attention, most of all said Toman President, whose jaw seemed to unhinge and drop as he whirled to look at you. You didn’t think you had ever seen Mikey spin so quickly. “You do?” He demanded, and would have made a lunge for you if not for the instant double pair of evil eyes daring him to do so, courtesy of Draken and Mitsuya. Pah even took a step forward, bless his heart. Mikey backed off, just ever so slightly. “From where? How? Why?”

You did offer your hand for your needy boy to hold though, the other instantly going to alternate between patting a whimpering mob of duo-colored hair and a pouting head of long black hair. “Where did you think that custom fuel tank cover came from?”

The gears clearly turning in his head, everything clicked together in an instance, a shine coming to those usually abyss eyes. “You got it from… from here?”

Right as you were about to reply, it seemed whatever higher being that had been watching over you had had enough of your enjoyable afternoon, and all it took was a second for the world to shift. A glint of light, one that sparkled out from a previously hidden sidewalk right before Shinichiro’s shop, caught the corner of Pah’s eye, the boy turning slightly to take a closer look just as up ahead, the faded green front door of S.S Motor swung open. And out shot from the storefront a gutsinking familiar figure, wavy hair fashioned into a death hawk, golden earring catching the bright sunlight and glittering like a lighthouse beacon.

“BD?” The Third Division captain muttered confused as he took in the wild-looking yet spotless Yamaha RZ350, neatly tucked away behind an air-conditioning unit in the alley. “Black Dragon…?”

Your heart sank faster than a cement block dropped from a thirty foot crane into the open ocean. Fuck.

‎‎

The sound of your gentle chuckle, just loud enough to echo ahead and through the glass of the shopfront was all that was needed to both set Koko’s chest alight, and sink it like the Titanic at the same time. He knew your voice - your laughter - by heart at this point; no doubt he would be able to pinpoint it even in his sleep through two inch thick steel. Because how could he not? Ever since he met you completely by chance while you had been rummaging about the dark underbelly of Tokyo City, looking for specifically a Honda CB250T with that meager amount you had scraped together, Koko had been hooked like an addict. And much like said addict craving for another hit, Koko had given you his scrappy fixer-upper for next to nothing before he realized what he had done. All just to see you again. Thoughts of you and about you haunted him day and night, no matter what he was doing or where he was looking - the rising financier star saw you in everything he did.

The usually calculative boy still couldn’t quite tally every point that had him drawn to you off the top of his head, but that was a problem for a future him. Right now, at this moment, he had bigger problems.

You were outside the shop right now (he could just see the top of your hair over the row of display motorcycles), and as much as Koko was delighted to see you again so soon, given it was rare to have any sort of extra time with you outside of pre-scheduled and pre-planned dates, he was not ready for you in the slightest. Caught off guard, as if he had his pants down, the anxiety bubbling uncontrollably up his throat. As far as he knew, your Honda CB250T was done. Finished. So what were you doing here in this part of town? Were you all by yourself? Did you know he was here?

Every…outing he ever had the pleasure to go on with you, his image had always been meticulously crafted and perfected - you probably would have never seen him in something as disgustingly simple and tasteless as a school uniform, nor did he have any of his usual gifts for you on hand. Sure you had never cared about receiving anything in return for your precious time, but Koko had heard that gifts were very useful for wooing someone. And for someone as important as you, it was a matter of basic respect. Maybe he could show you his new bike first. Maybe you’ll accept him treating you to dinner instead, if you didn’t already cook that is. Koko didn’t have enough self-restraint to resist your cooking.

And then there was the matter of Inupi's presence. Throwing a nervous glance backwards at the two still speaking in the shop - past and current delinquent discussing matters Koko couldn’t discern - the presence of an obvious rival gang delinquent might scare you off: you clearly spent a lot of time in the presence of one Tokyo Manji Gang from what he had seen. Even if he didn't have any affiliations, Inupi very certainly did. But time was ticking, and the options he had on hand were few.

It was now or never. Taking a deep breath, the black-haired boy abruptly stood, marched over to the front door, and forced himself out into the hot afternoon.

The world fell silent as Kokonoi Hajime stumbled straight into full view of not just you, but you in the company of six figures he instantly recognized as the Tokyo Manji Gang whose glares lasered in on him like hyenas to an freshly abandoned carcass. He had made a gamble, and he had been wrong; you were not alone like he had expected.

‎

All you could do was stare back at those pair of black almond eyes with your own paid of quivering ones, adrenaline pumping through your veins in a vain attempt to squash the panic rising through your chest as Koko froze meters away, his darting eyes assessing the situation before finally landing on you. There was no doubt in your mind that all your friends knew who he was, judging from their intense predatory stare that they were leveling at him, for reasons that were beyond you despite being absolutely certain that only Baji had managed a glimpse of him previously during that fateful night. But no matter what played out from this moment onwards, it was only going to get clearer and clearer that you had been disobeying their explicit demands for you to keep away from a rival delinquent. It felt almost that time itself had crawled to a halt, with only your heavy breathing reassuring you that the world under your feet was still turning. But what now?

You really didn’t want to know the answer to that question, but alas, there was no such mercy granted to you.

‎‎

Koko collected himself as he straightened to his full height, spotless school uniform shirt pulled down tight. No delinquent or rival was going to scare him away from you, not after all that he had already been through. He had lost Akane, he would not lose you as well - no, you were worth everything he was worth. Every dollar and cent, he didn’t need it if he could have you. Your name was cheerfully called out as he raised one hand in greeting, pretending as if he didn’t see your face pale to an ashen gray usually reserved only for the dead, his gaze focused solely on you amidst the crowd of other less important people. You were here with him, and that was all that mattered.

One step was all the notorious financier had the time to take. The next words out from Baji’s mouth broke the camel’s back as the boy put two and two together, his head rapidly whirling between both Koko and the Black Dragons bike: the weight of the tension crushed the temporary peace in oblivion. “Wait. You’re that bastard-”

None of the six founders needed the reminder; how could they, when he was that bastard that had dared steal you away from them. That had the balls to kiss you? They’ve already spent the better part of last week following the two of you everywhere. Stalking was such a harsh word to use, given how your friends just had your best interest at heart - your Toman boys wanted for you to be safe. Which meant staying away from scumbag like the black-haired boy that now stood opposite of them, and not running your hand through his hair like you did for them, and absolutely not letting him lick cream off your cheek. Hell, Kazutora would have killed to have an opportunity to do it for you, so why?

Why him?

As if a well-rehearsed show, the wind began to pick up, and what was once a breeze now tore ferociously down the lifeless street. Throwing unsecure windows and clothes alike, the echoing sound of wood clashing and metal rattling was but background noise for the ongoing standoff on street level, the gale whipping their clothes and hair with unrelenting force. But for all the posturing that the founder of Toman did, a last ditch attempt to keep their monstrous sides lurking under the surface and away from your gentle, innocent eyes, it all seemed to be for naught as their warnings fell on deaf ears, Koko simply opting to ignore the boys.

His heart was racing, though the fear and anxiety that weighed his chest down was far from being caused by the delinquents that surrounded you, no. Peasants, louts, the lot of them: Koko couldn’t imagine wasting his time on such hooligans. No, he had his eyes on the prize, and every second he went without a word to you was another second he feared you deeming him as inadequate. Did you already think he was poorly dressed? That he was rude? Free hand going to anxiously fidget with the ends of his strands of hair, the boy ever so cautiously took another step closer. “How are you? Having a good day?”

You glanced around, nervously evaluating the unmoving boys around you - what should you do now? Was it safe for you to reply? Getting anyone else into trouble really wasn’t what you wanted to do, but you couldn’t forsee Koko simply leaving without digging himself into a larger hole either; the other boy wasn’t the kind to let things go so easily. Crossing your fingers and hoping against hope that a fight wouldn’t break out, you gathered your courage, raising one hand just enough for a small wave back, uncertain smile pulling at your lips. You wanted to tell him to run, to flee from here, but that would be too obvious. You were naive, not stupid. “Hey Koko-”

And the chaos of the storm broke free of its bottle in that instant, a flash of black that rushed past you faster than you could blink, and you heard the crash of flesh and bone against something you fervently prayed wasn’t another body before you could even turn to look.

Up till now, all your dear friends could do was watch this less than scum being all touchy feely with you, left to take their bubbling anger out on unwitting classmates and rival gangs. But no more. Now this piece of trash was in front of them, your secret relationship with him clear for the world to see. They needed no excuses to beat him into the ground.

‎

Horrified doe eyes landed on a scene of what could only be out of your worst nightmare, an enraged Baji match for match with what looked like a mob of sunflower blond hair, his leg striking again and again against a steel pipe. Koko thankfully looked none the worse for wear, having shifted back to make space for the arrival of the newest in what was a growing feud, though you couldn’t quite say the same for the suddenly seething group of Toman boys surrounding you. The air had changed, the quiet, serene suburban neighborhood having given way to an atmosphere of fire, of unbridled rage and a clear target in range that only added more fuel.

These were no longer your overly protective, clingy friends you pampered and adored, their straightened backs and stony looks looking so very foreign to your gentle gaze - no, they were the founders of the Tokyo Manji Gang, the up and coming gang destined to rule Tokyo one day.

And they had just hit their limit.

The First Division Captain went in for another swift low kick, an attempt to break through the defense of the other clad in the despicable all-white of a Black Dragon uniform, though his move was easily countered with the same annoying metal pipe talentedly wielded. An ired tsked, and Baji pulled away, sliding back to land a safe distance away and out of reach of the business end of the pipe. “Fucking Black Dragons,” were the words that barely made it out through gnashed teeth, the fierce glare in yellow eyes enough to shiver your bones despite not being directed at you. “You again.”

…Again?

It seemed your confusion had been written all over your face. “He was one of those that beat me up outside my house,” Kazutora muttered, his clutch on your arm tightening as if to stop you from pulling away, sandy brown eyes alternating between the two opponents. “Seishu Inui, I think.”

Inupi, you repeated in your head, right as you were shoved backwards when Kazutora went ripping forward as if on cue, right in unison with Baji jumping in for a second round. Inupi raised his pipe.

“Wait- don’t!”

“Shut up,” Mikey hissed, those empty eyes swinging round to meet yours in a sharp glare, and your heart stopped the same time that the rest of your body did. For the first time, the Tokyo Manji Gang President was truly mad at you, and you saw him in the same light as the poor souls that ended up as his unfortunate victims. “You stay out of this.”

You flinched.

Draken was quick to follow up, yanking you away from the front lines with little effort, the grip he had on your shoulders tight and unrelenting and black eyes narrowed at you. “You are in so much fucking trouble, you hear?” Was barked at you, the tall boy physically moving you a few more paces back as he glanced between the crestfallen expression on your face and the standoff. Shaking with the effort to keep his voice as low as he could manage and his tone even, it was still too much for you to handle.

All this time, you had assured yourself that your friends weren’t scary people, just misunderstood. You loved them back as much as they loved you, and you had never been scared of them, no matter how much your well-meaning classmates tried to warn you to stay away. You couldn’t stop the tears welling up in the corners of your eyes, helplessly watching the bloodthirsty brawl, your gaze drifting to meet Koko’s distant one, separated by the length of Shinichiro’s shop.

All you had wanted was a new friend.

‎‎

The sudden ringtone that blared out felt like a miracle at just the right time, bringing a relief to the heavy tension that blanketed the area as the beefing boys immediately whirled around to look for the source of the disruption in unison. You blinked, breaking out from the momentary spiral of thoughts, one hand slipping down to lightly touch at your pocket before your doe eyes turned to look down, almost as if you couldn’t believe what you felt. That was… yours? Who could it possibly be at this time?

But with the way your afternoon was going, nothing good could possibly come out of this unexpected phone call, you knew, the sense of foreboding that weighed on your stomach only adding to the bad omen you could feel rising through your chest, instantly wiping out any sense of hope you had seconds ago. You swallowed hard. Only one way to find out if this was your salvation or your doom. Without a second glance at the small screen - you didn’t dare to test your luck any further, only praying that this call was truly the break you needed - you pressed the receiver to your ear as quickly as you answered the call. “H-hello?” You ventured, sniffling slightly as your gaze nervously glanced around the boys still in a stand off against each other, their eyes now having instead turned to rest on you.

“HEY! I’m outside the house, where the fuck are you?” A loud bark blasted from the speaker of your phone, and you eeped, the small flip phone almost slipping from your grip as you jerked the device away from your pained ear at the sudden loud sound. The gruff voice came again, now seemingly sounding even more annoyed. “OI CAN YOU HEAR ME?”

You could feel your heart sink out of your gut and hit the floor. Today truly was not a good day. Your older brother only continued to rant into the thin, uncaring air about the shitty quality of phones these days between demanding if you could hear him and cursing and swearing.

“Ah nii-san, I can hear you fine,” you hurriedly reassured, pressing the phone carefully back to your ear, your free hand lifting to quickly swipe at your eyes and nose.

“Are you fucking crying again?”

You ignored the question, though the other on the phone definitely heard what was a very obvious sniffle. “I’m out at the moment, nii-san.” Your voice dropped to a whisper. This was a very bad time, you wanted to continue, but your throat had already clamped up as a shadow fell over you. Mikey.

A pause, almost as if whoever it was on the other side could hardly believe what you had said. “OUT?!” He bellowed, and you yanked the phone away from your ear once more. “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN YOU‘RE OUT? YOU NEVER GO OUT!”’

It was clear that everyone in a fifty-mile radius from where you stood had overheard your conversation at this point, and the growing realization you could see starting on Mikey’s face and spreading to every Toman founder present was not a good sign. Did they know your brother too?

“Shion Madarame?” “Black Dragons?” A look of surprise had washed over Inupi’s stoic look, his metal pipe hitting the ground with a clink as the sunflower blond boy cocked his head, icy-blue gaze scanning you up and down.

Uh oh.

The silence seemed to stretch forever, with every second that the delinquents around you stared at you mutely feeling like an entire eternity had already passed by. Even your usually loud, foul-mouth brother had fallen quiet, with only the sound of his harsh breathing crackling through the small phone microphone. You had no idea what the standoff was now about, given the sudden inclusion of your older brother, but this did not look good.

“Why the fuck are you with those fucking Tokyo Manji Gang fuckheads?” Your brother’s voice was calm. Level headed even, his tone not any louder than a regular person’s. But Shion was never quiet: your older brother had only one setting, which was loud and crude. Which only meant one thing - he was pissed to hell and back, and you were screwed.

You jinxed it. You knew you jinxed yourself. Heck, you must have jinxed your whole afternoon.

How did your brother of all people know Mikey and the rest?

“You’re related to the disgrac- the Ninth-Generation Black Dragon President?” Koko blurted out, and you turned your bewildered look on him.

And then in a single heartbeat, all hell broke loose.

#i can't believe its been so long since the last chapter ;-;#work has truly been exhausting #not sure if there's anyone still reading this #but i will still write lol #its just you and me and me and you and you and me #and your friend yan TR readers who still exist #doodoodoodoododooo steve #anyway next chapter should be out this coming week!

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