Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"What the hell did you just say, asshole?" Chifuyu growled as he glared at his gangmate from the same division, grabbing his collar in anger.

"You're just an ass-kisser to the captain!" He shook off Chifuyu's grip and argued back. That sentence made him snap, throwing a punch at his gangmate and at anyone who talked badly about him and Baji. 

Until Baji arrived on his bike, casting glances at the others on the floor, who were beaten up. The others scrambled to their feet, hastily bowing to their Captain in a flurry of reverence and urgency. In stark contrast, Chifuyu stood tall and unwavering, meeting his Captain's gaze with a mixture of respect and defiance. Baji’s eyes narrowed dangerously, as he stalked toward his Vice-Captain, a subtle storm brewing behind his unamused expression.

Without warning, he unleashed a powerful punch toward Chifuyu, the suddenness of it leaving the younger boy momentarily stunned. Before he could fully register the attack, a swift kick struck him hard in the stomach, forcing the air from his lungs. Then, just as quickly, Baji’s fist connected with his face, a sharp blow that sent him reeling, his balance crumbling as he tumbled to the ground in a dazed heap.

THUMP

With a thumping sound, he regained his senses and stared at the scenes in front of him.

"I quit."

"From now on, Keisuke Baji, the 1st Squad Captain... Will be Toman's enemy!" 

The abrupt announcement hit him like a bolt from the blue, leaving him with a jarring mixture of disbelief and shock. His mind raced as he struggled to process the surreal news that seemed almost impossible to accept. Baji-san, is he really quitting Toman and becoming our enemy? The same Baji-san who is loyal to his gang and friends? He couldn't believe that.

After the meeting following their fight against Moebius, things took a terrible turn. A new boy joined Toman and quickly became the 3rd squad captain after Pah-chin was arrested. During the nomination ceremony for the 3rd squad captain, the new kid punched Pah-chin in the face, causing chaos. Then Baji-san stepped in, delivering a punch to the new kid's stomach. At that moment, he declared his resignation and became an enemy of Toman.

He couldn't keep his mind on yesterday's events as he tried to contact Baji to explain what was he planning. Chifuyu was sure it had something to do with Tetta Kisaki—he'd been suspicious ever since he was suddenly introduced as the Third Squad Captain. What was Mikey even thinking?

Meow~

A kitten's call broke his reverie.  His face brightened as he picked the kitten up. "Ah, Peke J."  His phone buzzed. He snatched it up, his eyes lighting up again.

It was a message from Baji.

Chifuyu approached the location Baji had described over the phone. The building loomed before him, its weathered walls and cracked windows giving it a haunting, abandoned appearance.

 Layers of peeling paint hung from the exterior like old skin, while weeds crept through the cracks in the pavement, reclaiming the space that was once alive with activity. A sense of desolation hung in the air, amplifying Chifuyu's unease as he stepped cautiously closer.

Then his eyes lit up when he saw Baji, who was leaning against the wall, waiting for Chifuyu.

"Baji-san," he greeted respectfully the (former?) Captain of the 1st Division Squad of the Tokyo Manji Gang. "What are we planning today?" he added.

"You really came, Chifuyu," Baji mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper, laced with a hint of urgency. Chifuyu opened his mouth to respond, a question on the tip of his tongue, but before he could speak, a series of footsteps echoed down the corridor, sharp and decisive, cutting through the tension in the air.

The sound of a single footstep echoed in the stillness, quickly followed by another, until the rhythmic thud grew into a cacophony of hundreds. The Valhalla gangs surged forward, a relentless tide, encircling him and Baji with their menacing presence. The air crackled with tension as shadows closed in, their figures looming ominously in the fading light.

"Wha—!?" He raised his fist, primed to unleash a punch. But before he could act, a shadow darted in, grinning with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Welcome, welcome to our turf!” he cackled, his voice dripping with playful menace.

The newcomer emerged as a lanky teenager, his striking black hair punctuated by a bold yellow streak that cascaded down the center. The sides of his head were shaved, emphasizing the wild length on top that danced as he moved. A long, golden drop earring dangled from his left ear, catching the light with every shift, while the kanji characters inked on his hands—“Sin” on the left and “Punishment” on the right—offered a glimpse into his rebellious spirit.

Chifuyu felt a cold sweat trickle down his back, his heart racing as he sized up the situation. “What the hell is the meaning of this!?” he barked, a mix of defiance and confusion etched across his face. The lanky teenager simply chuckled, a grin spreading wider across his face, radiating confidence.

Just then, another voice chimed in, smooth and mocking. “This? This is Baji's loyalty test for us.”

Without warning, he shifted closer, and in an instant, a fist shot toward Chifuyu’s face with blinding speed, leaving him momentarily stunned, and then—

THWACK

He blacked out.

Chapter Text

THWACK

He blacked out.

But not Chifuyu.

Chifuyu’s instincts kicked in as he narrowly evaded Baji’s swinging fist, his heart pounding in his chest. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead, marking the close call. In a twist of fate, Baji's reckless punch found its mark on the person behind Chifuyu—an unintended act of kindness he certainly wouldn’t thank them for.

His eyes narrowed as they locked onto Baji’s face, which was contorted in an expression of utter disbelief. What was this reaction about? After all, he was the one who had ignited the fight! With a steely gaze, Chifuyu demanded, “What is this, Baji-san? What are you planning?” Each word dripped with intensity, reflecting both his confusion and betrayal. 

"This is so boring," the strange guy murmured with an exaggerated sigh, his disappointment palpable. Was it because Chifuyu had managed to avoid getting hit? That guy really was an oddball!

"Hanma shut the hell up!" Baji snapped, irritation creeping into his voice.

Hanma merely shrugged, his expression one of feigned indifference, as if the whole situation were beneath him. Baji then turned his gaze toward Chifuyu. "Chifuyu, just stand straight and don’t move, like a proper Vice-Captain," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. Chifuyu flinched at the directive, his brows knitting together in skepticism.

"This isn’t right, Baji-san!" he protested, desperation lacing his words. But Baji's eyes were void of the fierce energy that usually ignited the battlefield. This version of Baji felt foreign and unsettling. Chifuyu couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off as if he were watching a shadow of the strong ally he relied upon.

“I know what I’m doing,” Baji said, his voice low and steady, like a knife sliding into Chifuyu’s chest. “Didn’t I tell you? Toman is my enemy now.”

The words hit harder than any punch, making Chifuyu’s breath hitch. His body trembled, not from fear, but from something colder—betrayal. This wasn’t the Baji he had laughed with under streetlights, the one who shielded him in fights, who swore loyalty with blood and bruised fists. This version felt like a stranger wearing his best friend’s face.

“Valhalla’s the new gang I joined,” Baji continued, voice devoid of any regret. “And that means I have to beat you—to prove I’m loyal to them.”

He said it so calmly like it didn’t tear Chifuyu apart from the inside out. Like their history meant nothing. Chifuyu stared at him, heart pounding, refusing to believe what he was hearing. No matter how many times he blinked, Baji didn’t soften, didn’t smile, didn’t say it was a joke.

This wasn’t just a betrayal.

They're declaring a war.

Chifuyu’s eyes darkened, narrowing into furious slits as he stared at Baji. His voice came out low, strained like it was forced through gritted teeth. “So this is it?” he growled. “You’re not just turning your back on us—you’re declaring war.”

Baji didn’t flinch, didn’t blink. That calm, cold expression only made it worse.

Chifuyu snapped.

Before he could stop himself, he surged forward and grabbed Baji by the collar, slamming him against the alley wall with a dull thud. “Say it again,” he snarled, breath ragged, eyes glassy with rage and disbelief. “Say it again and I swear I’ll—”

His fists trembled, knuckles white with restraint he was rapidly losing. Every memory—every laugh, every fight they’d survived together—flashed through his mind, twisting into something sharp.

But Baji just stared back, silent.

And that silence hurt more than any punch ever could.

A slow, mocking chuckle echoed through the alley, slicing through the charged silence like a blade. Both Chifuyu and Baji froze, their eyes snapping toward the source.

Hanma leaned lazily against the rusted metal fence, arms crossed and amusement dancing in his eyes like fire. His grin stretched wide, sharp, and predatory as if he were savoring the taste of the chaos brewing between them.

“Well, well,” he drawled, voice laced with wicked glee. “This is getting interesting.”

He pushed off the fence with an exaggerated yawn, sauntering closer like he had all the time in the world. The tension between Baji and Chifuyu crackled in the air, but Hanma seemed to drink it in, delighted by the unfolding drama.

“But honestly?” He cocked his head, eyes gleaming. “Watching you two talk is boring as hell.”

Then, with a casual wave of his hand—like he was ordering another drink instead of someone’s pain—he said, “Finish him, Baji.”

The words dropped like a spark on dry kindling.

Chifuyu's heart slammed against his ribs as he turned back to Baji, searching his eyes for hesitation—for anything human.

But Baji was already moving.

The moment Hanma's words hit the air—“Finish him, Baji”—Baji moved.

No warning. No hesitation.

His fist came fast and brutal, aimed straight at Chifuyu’s jaw, but instinct kicked in. Chifuyu ducked, barely dodging the blow, and countered with a hard punch to Baji’s side. The impact reverberated through his knuckles, but Baji didn’t even grunt. It was like hitting a wall wrapped in muscle and years of violence.

“You bastard!” Chifuyu shouted, voice raw with betrayal. “You’re seriously going through with this?!”

Baji didn’t answer. He just came at him again.

They clashed in a flurry of fists and fury, the sound of flesh meeting flesh echoing in the alley as others watched them fight. Chifuyu held his ground, years of fighting beside Baji giving him just enough edge to read some of his moves. But his heart wasn’t in it—every blow he threw felt like it splintered something inside him.

Then Baji feinted left and caught him off-guard with a brutal punch to the ribs. Pain exploded through Chifuyu’s side, knocking the breath from his lungs. He staggered back, vision spinning, and that’s when Baji followed up with a vicious uppercut.

Chifuyu hit the ground hard, coughing, one arm curled protectively around his ribs. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. His ears rang, and the pavement felt cold beneath him.

“Shit…” he gasped, trying to push himself up, but his limbs trembled.

Hanma laughed like it was a damn comedy show. “Now that’s more like it. This is the kind of drama I live for.”

Baji stood over Chifuyu, fist clenched, but something flickered in his eyes—something dark and conflicted, buried just beneath the surface.

Chifuyu looked up at him, defiant even through the pain. “Do it then,” he spat. “If this is who you really are now, finish it.”

Baji stood over him, unmoving. The silence stretched something unspoken—regret, fury, grief. Maybe all three. His shadow fell across Chifuyu’s bruised body, and for a moment, it looked like he might hesitate.

But then his jaw tensed.

He raised his fist.

Chifuyu didn’t flinch. His eyes stayed locked on Baji’s, glassy but unwavering like he was trying to burn the image of his best friend into his memory one last time—before he became a stranger forever.

Baji’s fist came down.

It crashed into Chifuyu’s face with a sickening crack, and everything went white.

Chifuyu’s head snapped to the side as his body collapsed fully to the pavement, unmoving. Blood pooled beneath him, mixing with the dirt and dust of the alley. His breathing was shallow. Barely there.

Hanma let out a delighted whoop, clapping mockingly. “Beautiful. Just beautiful. That’s the kind of loyalty Valhalla rewards.”

Baji stood there, chest heaving, knuckles bloodied—his own and Chifuyu’s. But he didn’t speak. He didn’t smile. He just stared down at the broken boy beneath him, the silence in his expression louder than any apology.

And for the first time… Baji looked like he didn't enjoy it.

A dull ringing pulsed through Chifuyu’s skull, louder than thought, louder than breath.

Then pain.

Sharp, deep, everywhere.

He stirred with a strangled groan, every inch of his body screaming in protest. His eyelids fluttered open, heavy as stone, revealing the blurred world of cracked pavement and distant neon lights. The night air was cold against his skin, damp with blood and dust.

They were gone.

Valhalla. Hanma. Baji-san 

Gone like they’d never been there at all.

Only silence remained.

Chifuyu tried to move, but agony lanced through his ribs and jaw, anchoring him to the ground. He rolled onto his side with a pained gasp, coughing, and the taste of iron flooded his mouth. Blood clung to his lips, crusted over his face, matted in his hair. His Toman jacket was soaked in it, the once-proud symbol on the back now smeared and torn, like a cruel joke.

His fingers clawed weakly at the dirt, searching for anything—his phone, his strength, maybe even a reason to get up. But there was nothing.

Just the echo of Baji’s final blow.

The weight of betrayal settled over him like a second skin.

And still, despite everything—despite the blood, the pain, the hollow space where loyalty used to live—Chifuyu whispered his name:

“…Baji-san…”

The tears didn’t come. Not yet. Just the slow, suffocating ache of being left behind.

“Fuck…” Chifuyu rasped the word torn from his throat like it hurt to even say it. “I’m so weak…”

His voice cracked, thick with blood and humiliation. He let out a bitter, wet chuckle that dissolved into a cough, his body trembling from the effort. Every breath was a knife to his ribs, every movement felt like splintered glass grinding beneath his skin.

“I couldn’t even stop him…” he muttered, voice barely more than a whisper. “I couldn’t do anything…”

The laughter died quickly, swallowed by the cold night and the silence pressing in on him.

He gritted his teeth, forcing his elbows under him, and with a ragged groan, he pushed himself upright. His arms shook violently, his vision swam, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. Not now.

One hand braced against the alley wall, the other clutching his bruised side, Chifuyu dragged his battered body toward the flicker of streetlight at the alley’s end. Every step was agony. Blood smeared the wall where he leaned, his legs nearly buckling beneath him.

But he kept going.

Dragging his ruined Toman jacket behind him like a forgotten flag, he limped out of the alley—alone, broken, and burning with the weight of everything he’d just lost.

Chifuyu’s legs nearly gave out twice on the way back, but somehow—through sheer willpower and a blinding haze of pain—he made it.

The door creaked open with a familiar groan, and he stepped inside, shoulders sagging the moment the quiet warmth of his home wrapped around him. The lights were still off. No shoes by the door except his own.

His mom wasn’t home yet.

Good.

He exhaled shakily and stumbled toward the bathroom, gripping the walls for balance. Every movement sent fresh stabs of pain through his ribs, but he clenched his teeth and kept going. He couldn’t let her see him like this. Couldn’t let her worry.

The bathroom light buzzed to life, revealing his reflection—and he almost didn’t recognize himself.

His face was swollen, one eye nearly shut from bruising. Blood crusted along a split lip and dried across his jaw, and the collar of his Toman jacket was stiff with it. His shirt was torn, stained deep red. His knuckles were raw, skin split open. He looked like a ghost of the boy who had left home that morning.

He swallowed hard.

No time to break down.

Chifuyu pulled open the medicine cabinet with trembling fingers, grabbing what little first aid supplies they had—gauze, tape, antiseptic, painkillers. He hissed as he poured disinfectant over the worst cuts, jaw clenched so tight it ached. Then he started wrapping his ribs as best he could, fingers fumbling through the pain.

Each bandage was a silent confession of how close he’d come to being broken completely.

When he finally finished, he sat on the edge of the bathtub, dizzy and spent. His breathing was shallow, and his hands shook as he reached for the painkillers, swallowing two dry. Blood still stained his fingernails. His uniform lay in a heap on the floor, soaked through, unrecoverable.

He stared down at it, eyes heavy.

“…Baji-san…”

The name slipped from his lips again, softer this time. Less anger. More ache.

The clock ticked. The apartment stayed quiet.

Quiet. Too quiet.

Chifuyu sat curled on the bathroom floor, wrapped in a clean hoodie now, his bloodied uniform stuffed in a trash bag beneath the sink. The painkillers had dulled the ache, but not the weight in his chest. That stayed. Heavy. Crushing.

He pressed his forehead against his knees, bandaged arms wrapped tightly around them. The silence echoed like a scream in his ears.

Then—

A soft, familiar mew.

His head lifted slightly.

Peke J padded into the bathroom, tail twitching, black eyes wide with concern. The little cat let out another meow and gently brushed against Chifuyu’s side, purring low and steady.

“Hey, Peke J…” Chifuyu murmured, his voice hoarse and cracked.

He reached out with a trembling hand, and Peke J immediately nestled into his lap, warm and gentle and grounding. Chifuyu stroked the soft fur with slow, shaky fingers, his vision blurring as the cat purred louder, curling up like he was trying to glue Chifuyu’s pieces back together.

“I tried,” he whispered, voice breaking. “I really tried… but he still chose them. He still—he hit me, Peke J…”

His throat tightened.

“I couldn’t stop him. I wasn’t strong enough. I wasn’t enough…”

And finally—finally—the tears came.

Hot, silent, shameful. They slipped down his bruised cheeks, falling onto Peke J’s fur. He didn’t try to wipe them away. He didn’t try to hold them back. Not anymore.

He cried into the quiet, alone but not entirely.

Peke J stayed curled in his lap, soft purring never stopping, as if the little cat was saying the one thing no one else could:

You're still here. You're still you. And you're not alone.

Chapter Text

Eventually, he slowed, leaving his chest hollow brighter, like a dam had broken, and let the worst of it bleed out. Chifuyu stayed on the bathroom floor, arms wrapped around Peke J, the silence no longer unbearable—just tired.

He didn’t know how long he sat there. The light above buzzed softly, casting pale shadows on the tile, and Peke J’s warmth curled against his ribs like a reminder: breath. Rest. Survive.

When he finally stood, it was with shaky legs and quiet determination. His body still ached, every movement reminding him of the blows he couldn’t block, but the numbness had ebbed into something colder. Sharper. A fragile resolve.

He cleaned up the blood-streaked sink and threw out the bloodied gauze and empty pill packets. He washed his hands slowly, staring at the bruises on his knuckles. The ones Baji had once tended after a scuffle. The memory stung more than the pain.

“Guess it’s just me now,” he murmured to the mirror.

He left the bathroom and padded into his room, careful not to make a sound in case his mom came home early. He changed into a soft T-shirt and sweats, the hoodie already stained with dried tears. Peke J followed him, hopping up on the bed before he’d even pulled back the blanket.

Chifuyu hesitated for a moment at the edge of the mattress—then finally slid in, curling on his side. Peke J immediately nestled against his chest.

His eyes stayed open for a long time, staring at the ceiling, haunted by Baji’s fist and Hanma’s laughter. But the weight of exhaustion finally pulled him under, and sleep came not peacefully, but mercifully.

The morning sun crept through the thin curtains, soft and gold, brushing against Chifuyu’s swollen face like it didn’t know how much it hurt to be touched.

He stirred slowly, every muscle aching in protest as he blinked awake. Peke J was still curled up beside him, head resting on his arm, watching him with those gentle eyes that didn’t ask questions.

Chifuyu gave him a weak smile. “Morning, buddy…”

But his voice was hoarse, and speaking made his split lip throb again.

He winced and slowly sat up, groaning as pain flared through his side. His ribs were bruised, maybe worse. The makeshift bandages had held through the night, but they felt tight and uncomfortable now. Still—he was breathing. That counted for something.

The clock on his desk read 7:34 AM.

His mom would be home any minute.

Panic sparked low in his chest.

He forced himself up, stumbling into the bathroom with Peke J trotting at his heels. The mirror didn’t spare him—his left eye was dark and puffy, lip split and bruises painted his neck and cheek like violent brushstrokes. It was worse in the morning light.

Shit.

Chifuyu grabbed the concealer from his mom’s drawer—she never used it much, but it was there, thank god—and carefully dabbed it on, wincing as he blended it over the worst of it. He threw on a high-collared hoodie, tugging the hood up, then slouched his shoulders just enough to seem casual. Anything to look like he hadn’t been nearly beaten unconscious the afternoon before.

He was rinsing bloodstained gauze down the drain when he heard the familiar jingle of keys at the door.

His heart skipped.

Chifuyu quickly wiped his hands, shoved the trash deeper under the sink, and stepped into the kitchen like he’d just woken up.

“Morning,” his mom called out, dropping her bag by the door with a tired sigh. “You’re up early.”

“Yeah,” Chifuyu said, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Figured I’d make some tea.”

She stepped into the kitchen and ruffled his hair like always—careful, warm, loving—and he bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from flinching.

“You’re such a good kid,” she said softly, her voice full of quiet pride as she reached for a mug. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Chifuyu turned away to hide the sudden sting in his eyes. “I’m okay,” he whispered, more to himself than her. “I’m okay…”

And for now, that would have to be enough.

Chifuyu chose to forgo school today, fabricating a lie about being sick and enlisting his mother's help to notify his teacher. His mom, often away, navigated the demands of work with the hope of providing for them, yet she always made a conscious effort to carve out moments for connection. 

As he sat in the quiet of their home, he couldn't bring himself to hold it against her; after all, she was doing everything in her power to ensure their survival in a challenging world.

The old swing creaked beneath Chifuyu as he sat motionless, the rusted chains groaning softly with each barely-there sway. The small park was quiet at this hour—no kids, no noise—just the hush of wind through leaves and the faint clatter of the city beyond. It should’ve been peaceful.

But Chifuyu’s mind wasn’t.

His thoughts were trapped—looping, relentless—back to the chaos of yesterday. The alley. The blood. Baji’s fist slammed into his face without hesitation. The cold, unreadable look in his eyes as he chose Valhalla over everything.

Chifuyu clenched his fists, jaw tight, the ache in his ribs flaring again. He didn’t even notice the tears welling at the corners of his eyes. Not yet.

A defeated sigh cut through the silence.

He blinked and glanced up.

There—dragging his feet along the gravel path—was a boy with messy, bleached yellow hair styled into a half-hearted faux hawk. He looked completely lost, shoulders hunched, hands shoved into his pockets like he was trying to disappear into them. His eyes were red-rimmed and glassy like he hadn’t slept at all.

Chifuyu squinted.

That guy…

Recognition struck like a slow wave.

It was him. The boy who had stood trembling during the 3rd Squad Captain promotion ceremony. The one Baji-san had punched straight in the face for no clear reason—a humiliating blow that had dropped him to his knees. That had been the night before everything fell apart.

The night before Valhalla.

Chifuyu’s breath caught.

Hanagaki Takemichi.

He watched the boy aimlessly walking straight, gazing at the ground like he was searching for something—maybe his pride, maybe the strength to keep moving.

There was something strange about him. Fragile, sure. Out of place, absolutely. But… something about the way he carried all that pain—quiet, invisible to most—made Chifuyu sit up just a little.

He didn’t know why, but something about that broken-looking stranger tugged at the cracked pieces inside him.

And before he realized it, Chifuyu spoke.

“Hey! You—yeah, the bright blonde guy!”

Chifuyu’s voice cut through the stillness of the park, firm but nice, just enough to make the bleached-haired boy pause mid-step.

Takemichi looked up, blinking in confusion. His expression was a mix of exhaustion and surprise like he wasn’t used to being noticed—let alone addressed so directly.

“Huh?”

His voice cracked slightly as he answered, almost unsure whether Chifuyu was talking to him.

Chifuyu didn’t respond right away. He simply lifted a hand, fingers flicking in a subtle come here motion. It wasn’t a demand, but there was weight behind it—an unspoken insistence.

Then he tilted his head toward the empty swing next to him.

“Sit here.”

The wind rustled the chains gently as the second swing swayed as if waiting. Chifuyu didn’t look away, eyes steady and unreadable beneath his hood. His bruises were hidden, but the heaviness in his voice—his posture—gave him away.

Takemichi blinked again, pointing to himself in his head. Eh? Me? He eyed the boy on the swing more closely, hesitant steps freezing.

The guy had sharp, narrow eyes and messy blond hair that framed his face in a way that made him look perpetually pissed off. His hoodie was pulled up too tightly over his face—like he was trying to hide something. But even from here, Takemichi could spot the swelling on his cheek, the dark bruising shadowing the edge of his jaw, and the way his shoulders slumped like they were carrying something heavy.

Takemichi squinted, trying to be discreet.

That guy looks like he's been through hell. Hoodie, bruises… He’s definitely not “approachable” material.

His thoughts turned frantic.

He's scary! What if he's in a gang? Wait, no—what if he is the gang??

Takemichi’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

He's clearly not good news… better avoid him before he drags me into some shady stuff.

He muttered under his breath, almost to himself, “Just ignore him…”

He was just about to turn away when Chifuyu huffed, loud enough to catch him mid-step.

“The meeting was a total disaster for both of us, huh?”

Takemichi froze.

Meeting? His eyes slowly widened. He turned back, stunned.

“The… meeting?” he echoed, voice uncertain, suddenly very aware of how fast his heart was racing.

The quiet chuckle that escaped Chifuyu’s lips felt oddly out of place, given the exhaustion and pain that weighed on him. He leaned back ever so slightly on the swing, the chains creaking softly under his shifting weight.

“Baji-san scared the crap outta you, didn’t he?”

His voice was light, but there was a sharpness to it—like he knew exactly what had happened, what Baji was capable of.

Takemichi blinked, still trying to process everything. His eyes shifted to the guy in front of him, then back to the ground. Wait. He’s talking like he knows me... Confusion flickered behind his gaze as he spoke.

"You're Baji-kun’s friend?"

The words hung between them, heavy with unspoken questions.

Chifuyu didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he gave a small, knowing smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. His posture shifted slightly, shoulders loosening, as if offering some sense of peace to this strange boy who clearly had no idea what he was dealing with.

“Tokyo Manji Gang. 1st Squad Vice-Captain. Matsuno Chifuyu,” he introduced himself, the words casual but laced with the weight of the authority.

Takemichi’s eyes flickered with recognition.

Wait a second... 1st squad Vice captain?

A flash of memory hit him—yesterday. The night when everything had spiraled into chaos. The guy who had been beaten senseless by Baji. The one who had taken blow after blow without even flinching, the one whose name Baji had barely spoken, yet whose face was now burned into his memory.

His eyes widened, and without thinking, Takemichi slid forward, his feet scuffing against the gravel as he sprinted toward Chifuyu. His arm shot out, finger pointed accusingly at him, his tone sharp with disbelief.

“You’re the guy Baji-kun beat up to a pulp!”

The words burst from him in a rush, almost too loudly. His heart was pounding, the shock and horror from the night before still fresh in his mind.

Chifuyu blinked slowly, clearly taken aback by the sudden outburst. He tilted his head slightly, confusion flickering across his bruised features. But that quickly shifted into something more subtle—annoyance, perhaps?

“That’s kinda rude for someone you just met, don’t you think?” Chifuyu said, his voice steady but with a hint of irritation simmering beneath the calm surface.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he shifted on the swing, his gaze flicking over Takemichi, noting the unfiltered judgment in his eyes. There was something abot the accusation that didn’t sit right with him—something about Takemichi’s tone that felt off, like he was still processing what he had seen the night before, as if he couldn’t quite grasp the weight of what had really happened.

Takemichi’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again like a fish gasping for air.

“I—uh—sorry! I didn’t mean to say it like that! It just came out—” he fumbled, waving his hands nervously, eyes darting from Chifuyu’s unimpressed expression to the swing set beneath his feet. “I-I mean, you looked really bad that night! Not bad bad, just—hurt! A lot!”

Chifuyu stared at him for a second, lips pressed into a thin line.

Then he sighed.

“You’re not very good with words, are you?”

Takemichi gave a sheepish laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “Not really, no.”

Chifuyu shook his head with a small, tired smile. “Don’t worry about it.”

He leaned back again, eyes drifting up to the pale sky above them. His fingers gripped the rusted chains loosely, his voice quieter now, tinged with something heavier.

“Baji-san… didn’t hit me because he hated me.”

Takemichi blinked. “Huh?”

Chifuyu’s gaze didn’t move from the sky. “He did it because he needed to. Because that’s how deep in this mess he’s willing to go. Even if it means making people like you—and me—misunderstand him.”

Silence hung between them for a long moment, broken only by the gentle creak of the swings and the wind ruffling their hair.

Takemichi swallowed hard, guilt creeping into his chest. “So… he didn’t mean to hurt you?”

“No,” Chifuyu said simply. Then he looked at Takemichi, eyes sharper now, thoughtful. “But he did. And that’s what you saw. I’m guessing you don’t know the whole story, do you?”

Takemichi shook his head slowly, heart pounding again. “No… I don’t.”

Chifuyu looked at him for another long moment—measuring, deciding.

Then he said, “Then maybe it’s time someone told you.”

Chifuyu leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, hands dangling between them. His face was unreadable now—calm, but with a storm building beneath the surface.

“You should be a bit thankful to Baji-san, you know” he muttered. “If he weren't there to beat you up, things gets more worse than already is…”

Takemichi shifted nervously, unsure if he should sit or keep standing, but eventually he dropped onto the swing beside him,, the chains groaning under his weight.

“What… what do you mean?” he asked, hesitant.

Chifuyu didn’t look at him. His gaze was distant, locked somewhere in the space between memory and regret.

“Baji-san… he’s not with Valhalla because he betrayed Toman. I think.... He’s with them because he’s trying to protect Toman.”

Takemichi’s brows furrowed. “Wait—what?”

Chifuyu finally turned to look at him, eyes sharper now, voice low. “He’s undercover. He joined Valhalla to find out the truth. Something’s off—there’s a deeper reason all this is happening. He knew Kazutora was involved… and Hanma. And he knew Kisaki was moving in the shadows.”

The name Kisaki made Takemichi flinch. That man had already destroyed so much of his future.

“Baji-san didn’t want anyone to know. I know the only way to protect Toman was to make everyone hate him,” Chifuyu continued, his jaw clenching. “He made me think he betrayed Toman, to think I let my emotions control me. I think he beat me down in front of everyone so they wouldn’t suspect me either.”

Takemichi’s mouth parted, but nothing came out. His stomach twisted. Everything he thought he knew about Baji shattered in an instant.

He did all that… for Toman?

“But why tell me this?” he finally whispered.

Chifuyu studied him, expression unreadable.

“Because I saw how you looked at Mikey. Like you wanted to help. Like you needed to understand,” he said. “And because I think… you’re more than what you look like. Even if you’re kind of pathetic.”

“...Hey.”

Chifuyu smirked, just a little. “But if you’re going to get involved, you need to know the stakes. You need to know who you can really trust.”

Takemichi sat there in stunned silence, his heart pounding, his mind trying to catch up.

And then Chifuyu extended his hand.

“Let’s find a way to bring Baji-san back. Partner.”

Takemichi stared at it, wide-eyed.

And then, slowly, he reached out—and shook it.

Chapter Text

Afterward, they spoke with Mikey and Draken at the quiet cemetery, where his brother's grave stood just ahead, marked by fresh flowers and the weight of memories. 

The air heavy with tension and unspoken questions. As the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the pavement, Mikey finally broke the silence. His voice was quiet but laced with old pain as he recounted the past—how Baji and Kazutora had once broken into a motorcycle shop, not knowing it belonged to his brother, Shinichiro.

 With each word, the weight of betrayal and tragedy settled over them. Takemichi listened in stunned silence as Mikey revealed how that one reckless night had ended in Shinichiro’s death, and how it had shattered something inside him forever.

"It's been two years..." Mikey murmured, his voice muffled slightly by the steady patter of rain hitting the umbrella he held loosely above his head. He stepped forward toward the grave, the edge of the umbrella tilting just enough to let a few stray drops dampen his hair. Before him stood his brother's motorcycle—polished and untouched, a ghost of a better time.

"I’ve forgiven Baji," he continued, fingers tightening around the umbrella’s handle. "But... even if he didn’t know, even if it’s too late to change the past..." His voice grew colder, eyes narrowing as the rain reflected in them like fractured glass.

"I will never forgive Kazutora for killing my brother."

The silence that followed was tense, broken only by the soft drumming of rain on fabric. Takemichi swallowed hard, shifting slightly beneath his own umbrella. The air felt heavier, like the rain was carrying more than water—like it carried grief.

Chifuyu stood a few feet away, his umbrella tilted just enough to shield him, though he made no move, no sound. His eyes were hidden beneath shadow, his lips pressed into a line.

Mikey turned, his gaze sharp as it met Takemichi’s. "And I can't forgive Baji for siding with Kazutora either," he added, voice flat and final.

"Takemicchi."

The name dropped with weight, like thunder rolling low in the distance. Mikey took a step closer, boots splashing slightly in the muddy earth. "I asked you to bring Baji back," he said slowly, then his eyes slid to Chifuyu, expression unreadable. "So why is his squad’s vice-captain here… but Baji isn’t?"

Takemichi flinched under the question, his grip tightening around the umbrella’s handle. Chifuyu didn’t speak, but his eyes narrowed, and his shoulders stiffened.

Mikey's voice, though soft, cut deep.

"Just what do you want to accomplish?"

"Takemicchi, do you really want to die that badly?" Mikey’s voice was low, but it struck like a blow to the gut—sharp, cold, and laced with deadly seriousness. Rain pattered steadily on the canopy of their umbrellas, a soft, relentless rhythm that only heightened the tension between them.

Takemichi froze, eyes wide. "Ah—well..." he stammered, voice trembling as uncertainty gripped him.

Just what… do I want to do…?

The question echoed in his head, louder than Mikey’s threat. His breath hitched as he remembered the desperate conversation he'd had with Chifuyu—the one where Baji’s true intentions had been revealed. How Baji had joined Valhalla not to betray Toman, but to expose Kisaki. How Chifuyu had asked for his help, trusting him with that mission.

I want… The thing I want to do… that’s right…

His grip tightened around the umbrella’s handle. He lifted his gaze, locking eyes with Mikey, the rain blurring his vision but not his resolve.

Mikey-kun told me to bring Baji-kun back. I thought… if I did that, he’d kick Kisaki out. And if Kisaki’s gone from Toman… the future will change…

Hina might be saved.

The thought struck him like lightning, reigniting the fire that had started it all. His heart pounded as his memories surged forward—the future he’d seen, where Hina died in a fiery explosion, shielding him with her life.

No!

That wasn’t what I swore to do that time! I promised I’d protect her—no matter what!

His feet moved before he could stop them, splashing through puddles as he stepped toward Mikey, soaked shoes digging into the soft ground.

"Mikey-kun!" he called out, his voice cracking but clear. "I… I want to be the top member of Toman!"

Mikey’s eyes widened, startled by the sudden declaration. The air around them seemed to hold its breath.

Takemichi’s chest heaved as he pushed forward, standing tall despite the shaking in his limbs. "I’ll make you acknowledge me someday, Mikey-kun!"

He clenched his fists, his voice unwavering now.

"That’s what I want to accomplish!"

For a long moment, no one spoke. The rain fell in quiet sheets around them, broken only by the occasional distant rumble of thunder. Mikey stared at Takemichi, his face unreadable—caught somewhere between surprise and something deeper, something flickering quietly behind his eyes.

Then, slowly, Mikey let out a faint breath, almost like a laugh—but there was no humor in it. He lowered his gaze, his fingers flexing around the umbrella handle.

"You’re really something else," he muttered, voice low. "You’re weak. Always scared. Crying all the time."

Draken stepped forward, arms crossed, the rain streaking off his umbrella like a curtain. He looked Takemichi up and down with his usual steady, critical gaze. Then, a corner of his mouth lifted—just slightly.

"But you've got guts," Draken said. "And in Toman, that means something."

Mikey looked back up, his eyes sharper now, calculating. But he didn’t say anything else—not yet.

Takemichi stood firm, heart still pounding, legs nearly trembling beneath him. But he held Mikey’s gaze until the silence became heavy again.

Beside him, Chifuyu finally stepped forward, giving both Mikey and Draken a respectful nod. "We’ll do whatever it takes," he said quietly. "For Baji-san… and for the future of Toman."

With nothing more to say, the two turned, saying a respectful goodbyes towards their commanders. Their footsteps were muted against the rain-soaked earth as they began to walk away, umbrellas tilted against the downpour. The distance between them and the others grew, but the weight of the moment lingered—like the calm after a storm, full of questions, but also a strange, lingering hope.

Behind them, Mikey and Draken watched in silence.

"...That guy is an idiot," Draken said finally, almost to himself.

Mikey didn’t respond right away. His eyes remained fixed on Takemichi’s back as it disappeared into the misty grey and smiled.

"Yeah," he said at last. "He sure is."

"You sure you’re okay in the head?" Chifuyu asked dryly, casting a sideways glance at Takemichi as they walked side by side down the rain-slicked street. Their umbrellas bobbed slightly with each step. 

"You went way beyond just failing to read the mood back there."

Takemichi swallowed hard, cheeks flushing. "Y-Yeah, I guess so... Why the hell did I even say that?" he muttered, scratching his head in embarrassment.

He let out a shaky breath, still feeling the adrenaline pulsing through him. "My heart's still pounding like crazy right now!" he added, voice cracking slightly.

Chifuyu huffed a small laugh, the corners of his mouth twitching upward into a rare, amused smile. He stopped walking abruptly and turned to face Takemichi.

"How about this?" he said, holding out his hand.

"Huh?" Takemichi blinked, staring at the offered handshake in confusion.

"I'll help you become the top member of Toman," Chifuyu said, a spark of determination in his eyes. "In exchange, you help me with what I want to do."

Takemichi's mouth dropped open slightly. 

"Eh? Does that mean... you really think I can become the top member of Toman?" he asked, genuine hope shining on his face.

"Not in the slightest," Chifuyu replied instantly, deadpan, waving his hand dismissively.

"I knew it! You're making fun of me, aren’t you?!" Takemichi squawked, puffing up indignantly.

Chifuyu just chuckled under his breath, the small, rare smile lingering. "But I will help you," he said, and there was a real warmth behind his words this time.

Takemichi hesitated, feeling the sincerity hit him harder than he expected. Then, smiling despite himself, he reached out and clasped Chifuyu’s hand tightly.

"Understood!" he said. "I’ll help you out, too!"

Their handshake was brief but solid, a quiet promise exchanged under the grey sky.

Chifuyu grinned and pulled his hand back. "I'm counting on you, Partner."

As they started walking again, Chifuyu added, a mischievous lilt in his voice, "Oh, and by the way—we’re the same age, so you don’t have to be all formal with me."

He flashed a teasing smile and walked a few steps ahead.

"Ehhh?! We’re the same age?!" Takemichi yelped, rushing to catch up. "Why didn’t you tell me earlier?!"

Chifuyu laughed, the sound light and rare. "You switched gears real quick!" he teased over his shoulder.

Takemichi pouted, grumbling as he jogged beside him. "I mean, you’re a vice-captain, so I thought you were my senior... Ah—but you are my senior in Toman..." he added, mumbling under his breath.

"Mmn? Then in a situation like this—" Takemichi began, tilting his head thoughtfully.

Chifuyu cut him off, his tone sharpening with purpose. "First off, I want to properly investigate the connection between Valhalla and Kisaki."

Takemichi blinked and turned to him, curiosity sparking. "Got any leads?"

Chifuyu gave a firm nod, his expression grim beneath the steady drizzle. "I do."

Without wasting time, they made their way through the narrow, wet streets, the rain slicking the pavement in a shimmering sheen. Their umbrellas bumped lightly as they moved side by side, urgency pushing their steps faster.

They arrived at a rundown building tucked into an alley—one of the old haunts where former Moebius members used to gather. The place stank of mildew and stale smoke, and the broken neon sign above flickered weakly in the grey afternoon light.

Inside, a lanky man slouched against the wall, his eyes darting nervously as they approached. The tension in the air was thick, almost tangible.

Under Chifuyu’s steady glare—and a few well-placed threats—the man finally cracked. His words came tumbling out in a rush, bitterness and fear leaking from every syllable.

Kisaki. It had all been Kisaki.

The orchestrated fights. The brutal attack that left Draken bleeding out in the street. Pah-chin’s imprisonment. Every move had been calculated, every casualty a piece in Kisaki’s twisted game.

"And now..." the man muttered, glancing around as if afraid Kisaki might appear from the shadows. "Now he’s after Valhalla. He's got bigger plans. You watch yourselves. Kisaki... he’s a monster."

Takemichi and Chifuyu exchanged grim looks as they stepped back out into the rain, the heavy door creaking shut behind them.

Neither spoke for a long moment. The rain fell harder now, drumming steadily on their umbrellas.

But the truth hung unspoken between them.

Valhalla’s leader wasn’t just a figurehead.

It was Kisaki Tetta.

After parting ways with Takemichi, Chifuyu trudged home through the soft drizzle, his sneakers squelching against the wet pavement. The sky was still heavy and gray, but the rain had dulled to a gentle mist by the time he reached his apartment building.

As soon as he pushed open the door, a small, familiar sound greeted him—a soft, high-pitched meow.

"Peke J," Chifuyu murmured, a tired but genuine smile tugging at his lips.

The little cat padded up to him immediately, weaving around his ankles and rubbing his sleek body against Chifuyu’s leg, purring loudly like a tiny motor. Chifuyu crouched down, scratching Peke J affectionately under the chin, earning an even louder purr in response.

"Missed you too, buddy," he said softly.

After a moment, Chifuyu straightened up, toeing off his soaked shoes and making his way into the cramped kitchen. His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since that morning. He grabbed a pack of Peyoung Yakisoba from the cupboard, moving almost mechanically as he boiled water and stirred the noodles, the scent of the cooking sauce filling the small space.

When it was done, he carried the steaming tray into his room, the familiar weight of exhaustion settling on his shoulders.

Without thinking, he sat down at his low table and automatically split the yakisoba into two portions, scooping half into an extra bowl.

He froze for a second, staring at the two bowls.

It’s just a habit, he told himself, but the ache in his chest said otherwise.

They had done this countless times after fights—after long, bloody nights spent defending Toman. Baji would crash at his place, grinning wide despite busted lips or bruised ribs, and they’d share cheap yakisoba like it was a feast.

A small, stubborn part of Chifuyu still hoped. Hoped that maybe, just maybe, Baji would walk through the door again. Laughing, calling him an idiot, demanding more food.

He stared at the door without realizing it, the faint sound of rain ticking against the windows filling the silence.

Then—

The door creaked open.

Chifuyu’s heart leapt violently against his ribs. He twisted his head toward the sound, his eyes brightening with instinctive hope.

"Baji-san, let's share Peyoung Yaki—"

The words caught in his throat.

It wasn’t Baji.

Standing in the doorway was a boy of average height, his platinum blond hair messy from the rain, dark gray eyes half-lidded with boredom. He wore the Furin High School uniform—an open green gakuran jacket layered over a gray hoodie—paired with black jeans and scuffed black sneakers. A pair of bulky headphones hung around his neck, and a bright red lollipop stuck lazily out of his mouth.

The boy squinted at him, one eyebrow raising in unimpressed judgment.

"You look like shit," he said bluntly, voice flat.

Chifuyu stared at him, stunned, still half caught between reality and a dream that had crumbled too fast.

Finally, blinking out of his stupor, he rasped out, "What the hell happened to you, huh?"

Chapter Text

The boy leaned casually against the doorframe, still sucking on the lollipop as if he hadn’t just barged into someone’s apartment uninvited. His sharp gray eyes scanned the room lazily before settling back on Chifuyu, unimpressed.

"You gonna let me in or what?" he asked, not waiting for permission as he stepped inside and kicked the door shut behind him with the heel of his sneaker.

Chifuyu blinked rapidly, his mind scrambling to catch up. "...Ren?"

The boy—Kaji Ren—tilted his head slightly, "Tch. Took you long enough," Ren muttered, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his pants. "Yeah, it’s me."

Chifuyu shot up from where he sat, nearly upsetting the bowl of yakisoba. "What the hell are you doing here?!"

Ren shrugged, pulling the lollipop from his mouth with a soft pop and tucking it between his fingers. "Your mom's freaking out," he said casually, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "Said you weren't answering her calls. Told me to check if you were dead or something."

Chifuyu's throat tightened at the mention of his mother. He knew he hadn't exactly been the best son lately—not with everything going on in Toman. Between everything happening with Toman, Baji, Valhalla, and Kisaki, answering a worried parent felt like an impossible task.

He scrubbed a hand roughly through his hair, guilt tightening his chest. "Tch... I’ve been busy," he muttered, avoiding Ren’s sharp, knowing gaze.

Ren’s gaze flicked to the two bowls of Peyoung Yakisoba sitting side by side on the low table. He took it in silently, something flashing in his eyes, but he didn’t comment.

Instead, he dropped down heavily onto the floor, tossing his headphones aside. "You look like you have got beaten up mercilessly. Seriously. What the hell's been going on with you?"

Chifuyu scrubbed a hand through his damp hair, exhaling shakily. "It’s... complicated."

Ren shrugged, as if saying, Then explain it.

For a long moment, Chifuyu just sat there, Peke J hopping lightly onto his lap and curling up in a warm ball of purring fur. The apartment felt too small all of a sudden—too full of memories and unspoken words.

But somehow, the heavy weight in his chest lightened, just a little.

"Fine," Chifuyu muttered, "Well, whatever. I’m here in Tokyo now," Ren said, reaching over and stealing one of the bowls of yakisoba like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Guess I’m crashing with you for a while."

Chifuyu just stared at him for a moment, somewhere between exasperated and strangely relieved.

"...You’re unbelievable," he muttered, sinking back down across from him.

Ren smiled a bit around his lollipop. "Runs in the family."

They ate in a companionable silence for a few minutes, the rain tapping gently against the windows like an old, persistent friend. The warmth of the food settled something hollow in Chifuyu’s chest, though the knot of grief still twisted deep inside.

Ren slouched back against the wall, chewing lazily. His gray eyes, sharp despite his laid-back posture, kept flickering toward Chifuyu when he thought he wasn’t looking.

Finally, after finishing half his bowl, Ren spoke, voice casual but firm.

"So. Who were you waiting for?"

Chifuyu stiffened slightly, his chopsticks pausing mid-air.

Ren had noticed. Of course he had.

Chifuyu stared at the half-eaten second bowl of yakisoba sitting on the table, the noodles growing cold. His throat worked as he tried to find words that wouldn’t tear something open.

He set his bowl down with a small clack.

"...Someone important," he said quietly, his hand absently stroking Peke J's soft fur. "He’s... not coming back."

The words stung more than he expected. Saying it out loud made it real in a way nothing else had.

Ren didn't push. He just nodded slowly, letting the weight of Chifuyu’s words settle between them.

"Friend?" Ren asked after a moment, softer this time.

Chifuyu closed his eyes briefly, feeling the sting behind his eyelids. "Yeah," he whispered. "Something like that."

Or more.

Ren gave a small hum of understanding, tapping his chopsticks lightly against the rim of his bowl.

"I figured," he said, voice a little rougher now. "You don’t set out two bowls for someone you barely know."

Chifuyu let out a breath that was half a laugh and half a sob, scrubbing a hand across his face before Peke J meowed in protest at the sudden movement.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Ren leaned his head back against the wall, looking up at the cracked ceiling. "You don’t have to tell me everything," he said simply. "Not tonight. But if you ever need backup... you know where to find me."

Chifuyu swallowed hard, the lump in his throat nearly choking him.

"Thanks," he rasped.

Ren grunted, the corner of his mouth quirking into a ghost of a smirk. "What are cousins for, idiot?"

Chifuyu smiled faintly, feeling the first true warmth seep back into his frozen chest.

Later that night, the rain had faded into a low drizzle, barely more than a mist against the windows.

Ren had long since passed out on the couch, one arm thrown over his eyes, the empty yakisoba bowls stacked messily on the table beside him.

The apartment was dim and quiet, save for the occasional sleepy purr from Peke J, who was curled into a warm little loaf near Chifuyu’s lap.

Chifuyu sat cross-legged on the floor, a half-finished textbook open in front of him, but he wasn’t really reading. His mind kept drifting. His heart kept aching.

He fiddled absently with his phone, thumb hovering over Baji’s name in his contacts list.

He’s out there somewhere, Chifuyu thought, gripping the phone a little tighter. Still fighting. Still doing his best.

The ache inside him twisted into something fierce and stubborn.

"I’m still here too, Baji-san," he whispered into the quiet, voice barely more than a breath. "I'm gonna hold things down on this side... till you come back."

The words felt like a vow, heavy and sure.

Peke J stirred and crawled into Chifuyu’s lap, nuzzling against him like he understood.

Chifuyu smiled faintly, running his fingers gently down the cat's back.

"I'll wait," he murmured, his eyelids growing heavier, the exhaustion finally catching up to him. "No matter how long it takes... I'll wait."

Outside, the rain continued its slow, steady song, a soft promise against the night.

And somewhere out there, Chifuyu knew—

Baji was still fighting too.

The next morning, the rain had finally stopped, leaving the streets washed clean and glistening under a pale, early sun.

Chifuyu woke up to the soft weight of Peke J sprawled across his chest and the faint smell of something burnt coming from the kitchen.

He blinked blearily, pushing himself up, only to see Ren standing at the tiny stove, poking aggressively at what looked like a very questionable attempt at making scrambled eggs.

"...What are you doing?" Chifuyu croaked, his voice rough with sleep.

Ren glanced over his shoulder with a deadpan look. "Saving your sorry ass from starvation, obviously."

Chifuyu groaned and flopped back down onto the floor. "I'd rather starve than eat that," he mumbled into Peke J's fur.

Ren just snorted, turning off the stove with a dramatic flick of his wrist. "Whatever, Princess."

He sauntered back into the living room, tossing a towel at Chifuyu’s face before plopping down onto the couch again.

"You talk in your sleep, y'know," Ren said casually, grabbing the remote and flicking through the TV channels with one hand.

Chifuyu froze, towel halfway to his head. "H-Huh?"

Ren smirked around the lollipop he had somehow already gotten his hands on again. 

"All 'I'll wait' this and 'I'll hold down the fort' that," he said, mimicking Chifuyu's sleepy mumbling with a high-pitched whine that was definitely exaggerated.

Chifuyu’s face flushed red immediately. "Shut up! I wasn’t— I didn’t—!"

Ren only shrugged lazily, his smirk widening. "Whatever, tough guy. If you’re that loyal, whoever you're waiting for better be worth it."

He said it like a joke, but there was something a little more serious underneath, something that made Chifuyu’s heart clench unexpectedly.

Chifuyu yanked the towel over his face to hide his burning cheeks and mumbled into the fabric, "He is."

Ren's smirk softened into a real smile, rare and brief.

"Good," he said simply.

Later that morning, after forcing down a half-burnt breakfast (under Ren’s smug supervision), Chifuyu slung on his jacket and opened the door to leave.

"Oi. Where you think you're going?" Ren drawled from the couch, still half-lying down with one arm draped over the backrest.

"Meeting someone," Chifuyu said simply, pulling on his sneakers. "Important stuff."

Ren sucked loudly on his lollipop, unimpressed. "Tch. You’re not even gonna invite me? Rude."

Chifuyu rolled his eyes, grabbing his phone and shoving it into his pocket. "You're just gonna make things weird."

Ren stood up with a dramatic groan, stretching his arms over his head. "Weird’s my specialty," he said, smirking.

Before Chifuyu could retort, Ren clapped a hand roughly on his head, ruffling his hair in that annoying older-brother way.

"Relax. I’m coming with you."

Chifuyu scowled, batting his hand away. "I don't need a babysitter, damn it."

Ren only shrugged, unbothered. "Yeah? Tell that to the guy who talks to himself at night and eats instant noodles for three meals straight."

"Oi—!!" Chifuyu barked, his face heating up.

But Ren was already slipping on his sneakers, tugging his headphones around his neck casually.

"Look," Ren said, tossing a glance over his shoulder, more serious now. "You can do your 'important stuff.' I'll just be in the background. No questions asked. Just..." His mouth twisted, as if he wasn’t used to saying this sort of thing.

"Don't make me call Auntie and tell her you got your dumbass killed."

Chifuyu froze, something tight and unfamiliar swelling in his chest.

Ren wasn't teasing anymore. He was worried. In his own rough, careless way, he was watching out for him.

Chifuyu clicked his tongue and turned away quickly so Ren wouldn't see the stupid smile threatening to crack across his face.

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Do whatever you want, annoying cousin."

Ren just smiled, falling into step beside him as they headed out into the misty morning streets.

They eventually made their way through the damp streets, the mist clinging to their clothes and hair like a second skin.

When they reached the meeting spot, Takemichi was already there, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet, shivering slightly from the leftover chill in the air.

Takemichi's face lit up when he spotted them, but then his gaze snagged on Ren, and he blinked in confusion.

"Oh? Who’s this, Chifuyu?" he asked, tilting his head curiously.

Chifuyu glanced at Ren out of the corner of his eye, then gave a small, dismissive wave of his hand.

"He’s my cousin. Don’t worry, he’s harmless," Chifuyu said, though the tone of his voice sounded like even he didn’t quite believe it.

Ren gave a lazy shrug in response, hands tucked into the pockets of his pants, a lollipop stick jutting from the corner of his mouth.

The look he gave Takemichi was casual — almost bored — but there was a sharpness in his eyes that made it clear: harmless was highly conditional.

"I won't do anything," Ren drawled, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Unless you give me a reason."

Takemichi laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head. "R-right... nice to meet you," he said, offering a polite little bow.

Ren simply nodded in return, the gesture somewhere between respectful and disinterested.

Chifuyu sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Just ignore him," he muttered under his breath. "Anyway, let’s get started. We’ve got a lot to talk about."

As they moved off down the street together, Takemichi couldn't help but glance back at Ren every now and then, uneasy—but also weirdly reassured.

For all his rough edges, there was something about Ren’s presence that felt solid, dependable... even if it came with a slight threat of violence.

And as for Chifuyu—he walked a little straighter, a little steadier, knowing someone was guarding his back.

They made their way down the sloping path that led to the bridge tucked quietly beneath the main road, where the low rumble of passing cars overhead sounded like distant thunder. The mist from the earlier rain still clung to the air, dampening their footsteps against the cracked concrete.

"The fight’s tomorrow, huh..." Takemichi muttered, breaking the heavy silence.

Ren, walking a few paces behind them with his hands stuffed into his pockets, quirked an eyebrow at that. Fighting? Tomorrow? His sharp gray eyes flickered briefly between Chifuyu and Takemichi, but he said nothing — just silently filed the information away.

"Yeah," Chifuyu answered simply, not even sparing Ren a glance. He could practically feel the pointed look his cousin was giving him, but he ignored it, keeping his pace steady.

They continued forward, boots scraping lightly against the damp path, until finally, just ahead, they caught sight of a familiar figure.

Baji stood there by the bridge railing, his body slouched casually against the metal, head tilted back to gaze at the overcast sky. His long hair fluttered lightly in the breeze, and for a moment, he looked almost detached from the world, lost somewhere between thought and exhaustion.

Chifuyu slowed, heart thudding a little harder in his chest. He took a breath, then stepped forward.

"I’m sorry for calling you out all of a sudden," Chifuyu said, voice quiet but earnest.

Baji turned his head at the sound, his expression unreadable for a beat before a thin, crooked smile curved his lips.

"Chifuyu," he greeted, his voice low and rough, almost fond(Chifuyu's messing his own mind).

A second later, that thin smile twisted into a mischievous smirk.

"You want me to punch you some more, huh?" Baji teased, cracking his knuckles in warning.

Beside Chifuyu, Ren narrowed his eyes sharply, instinctively tensing. His fingers twitched slightly at his side, the urge to intervene flickering through him — but he stayed silent, his sharp gaze pinned to Baji, calculating.

Chifuyu caught the subtle shift in Ren’s stance and shot him a tiny, invisible shake of his head. It’s fine.

Ren huffed quietly through his nose but didn’t move. He didn’t like it — but he trusted Chifuyu enough to let it go.

For now.

"Baji-kun!?" Takemichi exclaimed in shock, his wide eyes darting between the two figures standing before him.

Baji, for his part, didn’t react much, merely shifting his gaze toward Ren with a raised eyebrow. His eyes held a certain cool indifference as he looked the older boy up and down. Ren stood there, leaning casually against the railing, arms crossed, the faintest edge of suspicion in his gaze.

That quiet tension when Baji looked at Ren — something unsettled stirred in his chest. It was clear Baji wasn’t exactly thrilled to see someone close to Chifuyu, though he wasn’t exactly giving away much. Still, the sharpness in his eyes made Chifuyu uncomfortable in a way he couldn't quite name.

"I guess you’ve gotten yourself a dog, Chifuyu," Baji commented, his tone playful yet edged with something that didn’t sit well.

Chifuyu’s eyes narrowed in a flash of irritation. He stepped forward slightly, planting his feet firm. "He’s not a dog, Baji-san," Chifuyu shot back, his voice sharp.

Baji chuckled darkly, clearly finding amusement in the tension between them, but his attention quickly shifted back to the task at hand. Chifuyu's heart raced in his chest, but he swallowed it down, not letting Baji’s offhand comment get to him.

"Anyway," Chifuyu said, his tone turning serious. "Have you got any lead on Kisaki?"

The sudden shift to business caused a momentary silence to fall over the group. Takemichi shifted nervously, glancing between Baji and Chifuyu, unsure of what was about to unfold.

Baji’s expression tightened at the question, eyebrows furrowing in mild confusion. 

"Hah?"

The silence between them felt charged, thick with unspoken words. Chifuyu stood there, unwavering, staring directly into Baji’s eyes as if daring him to deny it.

"You're acting as a spy... Aren’t you?" Chifuyu pressed, his voice low, but intense with the weight of his suspicion. His gaze was hard, a spark of frustration flashing in his usually calm eyes.

Baji’s eyebrow twitched at the accusation, but he didn’t deny it. 

Chifuyu stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he sized Baji up, more determined now.

"I did some looking myself," he said, his voice laced with tension. "Kisaki’s a pretty nasty guy, isn’t he?"

Baji’s lips pressed into a tight line, his posture shifting ever so slightly, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face.

The silence between them was palpable, heavy with the weight of what was being said. Then, Chifuyu dropped the final bomb, his words simple yet filled with finality.

"You don’t have to stay in Valhalla anymore."

Baji smirked, his lips curling into a devil-may-care grin as he tilted his head slightly, clearly amused by Chifuyu’s words. "What the heck are you talking about?" he chuckled, the sound low and almost mocking, as if Chifuyu’s concerns were nothing more than a minor annoyance.

But Chifuyu’s frustration was palpable, his hands balling into fists at his sides. His voice rose with a mix of anger and disbelief.

"Tomorrow, if the fight starts..." he said, his words sharp and firm, "Baji-san, you’ll become Toman’s enemy for real!"

There was no mistaking the gravity of what he was saying. His eyes locked onto Baji’s, full of hurt and determination. He didn’t want to believe it, but the reality of it was too heavy to ignore.

Baji’s gaze was unreadable, but his body shifted, leaning lazily against the cold metal railing with the same casual arrogance. His posture seemed almost too relaxed, considering the weight of Chifuyu’s words. His smirk widened just slightly.

"Chifuyu," he began, his voice low and steady, "Didn’t I tell you this over and over? I’m part of Valhalla now. After everything I did to your face..." He let the words trail off, but the meaning was clear. The history between them was written in pain and betrayal, and he wasn’t about to let that go.

Ren, standing at a distance, tensed visibly. His eyes narrowed, anger flaring in the depths of them. The way Baji spoke—so casually about the violence he’d inflicted—didn’t sit well with him. He knew exactly what Baji was talking about, and it was him who had beaten up his cousin.

Chifuyu’s stomach twisted with the memory of that fight, and he hated hearing it said so nonchalantly. But there was no room for hesitation now. Baji’s next words were more like a declaration, spoken with a tone of finality that sent a chill through the air.

"We’re gonna crush Toman tomorrow," Baji said, the words hard and cold, like a blow meant to settle the matter once and for all.

Chifuyu and Takemichi both stiffened at the declaration. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. The weight of the statement hung in the air, thick with tension, as though they were standing on the edge of something dangerous.

Takemichi shifted beside Chifuyu, his voice barely above a whisper but heavy with concern. "Chifuyu," he murmured, his expression caught between worry and determination.

Chifuyu blinked, torn between the burning need to confront Baji and the quiet request that followed. Takemichi’s eyes met his, searching. "Can I speak with Baji-kun for a while?" he asked, his voice calm yet urgent, as if understanding the complexity of the moment.

Chifuyu hesitated, his thoughts spinning. Part of him wanted to argue, to challenge Baji right here, right now, but another part of him knew it was better to give Takemichi this moment. To allow him to talk to Baji, to try to find a way through the mess of emotions and betrayal that had already begun to spiral.

He glanced at Ren, silently signaling that they’d leave the two of them alone for a bit. Ren met his gaze, and though his face remained unreadable, he gave a single nod of acknowledgment.

"Fine," Chifuyu muttered, his voice tinged with frustration. "I’ll leave you two to it." He turned and walked a few steps away, feeling the weight of the tension leave his shoulders—at least for a moment.

Both Chifuyu and Ren kept their distance, standing off to the side but not taking their eyes off the two figures in front of them. The late afternoon sun was bright and warm overhead, casting long shadows across the ground, but despite the golden light, the air around them felt heavy.

Takemichi spoke with desperate energy, trying to break through to Baji—trying to find any crack in his stubborn facade. His words were full of hope and hurt, the kind of hurt that begged Baji to come back, to remember what they were fighting for.

But Baji’s face stayed impassive, his dark eyes unreadable.

Without a word, he turned his back on Takemichi, walking away with slow, unhurried steps. The sunlight caught the edges of his figure, almost making him seem like a distant mirage as he grew smaller with each step.

The unspoken message slammed into Chifuyu's heart like a punch.

He’s not coming back.

The thought echoed inside him, hollow and merciless.

His chest tightened painfully, and he found himself frozen, simply staring at Baji’s retreating back under the bright, too-cruel sun.

He didn’t notice Ren watching him.

Didn’t notice the way the older boy’s brows furrowed slightly, a flicker of concern shadowing his otherwise calm face. Ren didn’t move closer, didn’t speak—but there was something in his gaze, something quiet and protective, that spoke volumes.

Chifuyu remained silent at Ren's side. The sunlight caught the faint tension in his shoulders, the way his hands clenched tightly at his sides, as if restraining himself from calling out after Baji.

The sun had dipped lower, casting a soft orange glow across the city as the two cousins walked home together, the rhythmic sound of their footsteps blending with the occasional hum of traffic. It was a peaceful contrast to the tension that had settled in their hearts.

Ren’s hands were shoved deep in his pockets, his gaze distant as he walked beside Chifuyu. The weight of the conversation that had passed between them earlier was still heavy in the air.

"So, the fight’s tomorrow..." Ren began, breaking the silence with a sigh, his voice calm but laced with an underlying concern. "And you’re really going through with it?"

Chifuyu didn’t answer right away, his thoughts still lingering on Baji’s words and the distance that had grown between them. But he nodded after a beat, his jaw clenched. "I don’t have a choice."

Ren glanced at him, his brow furrowing slightly. "I don’t get it, Chifuyu. Why do you insist on handling this alone? You’re gonna need my help if you’re planning to fight another gang— and fight that guy."

Chifuyu stopped walking for a moment, his eyes hardening as he turned to face Ren. "I’m not asking for your help, Ren. I’ve got my own reasons for doing this. I don’t need you to step in."

Ren raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback. "Chifuyu—"

But Chifuyu was already shaking his head, a faint but resolute smile on his lips. "I know you care, but this is something I need to do on my own. I’ve got my own fight, my gang's fight. You don’t have to worry about me." He looked away, his expression hardening. "You can’t do anything for me. You’re going back to Furin, and that’s where you belong."

Ren stared at his cousin, eyes narrowing slightly as he considered Chifuyu’s words. There was a mix of disappointment and something else—something like hurt—that flickered across his face, but he didn’t push the matter. Instead, he let out a deep breath, his voice low and heavy. "You know, it’s not about belonging to a place, Chifuyu. It’s about knowing when you need my help—and asking for it. You don’t have to do this alone."

Chifuyu didn’t meet his gaze, his eyes fixed firmly ahead. The last thing he wanted was to admit he was struggling. He wasn’t a child anymore.

"I’ll manage," Chifuyu replied, his voice steady but tinged with an edge of finality. "Just go back to Furin. I don’t need your help right now."

Ren fell silent, the words hanging in the air between them, unspoken yet understood. He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "Alright. But if you change your mind, don’t hesitate to call. I’ll always have your back, even if you don’t want it."

Chifuyu didn’t answer, but the flicker of gratitude in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed by Ren. With a quiet sigh, "Don't get your ass killed" Ren turned to head in the direction opposite of his, his steps slower now, almost reluctant.

As he walked away, Chifuyu watched him for a moment, the familiar tension in his chest still present, but something in the pit of his stomach eased just slightly. He wasn’t used to accepting help from his cousin, but maybe—just maybe—he didn’t have to do everything on his own.

As the last traces of the sun faded into the night, Chifuyu turned and continued his walk home, each step heavier than the last as the reality of tomorrow’s fight loomed closer.

Chapter Text

After that encounter, word spread fast. The air was thick with tension by the time Mikey called them to the shrine for a formal meeting. The late afternoon sun filtered through the trees, casting long shadows across the temple grounds. The sound of murmuring voices and shifting feet filled the air as the captains and members of Toman gathered, forming a half-circle beneath the sacred torii gate.

Chifuyu stood silently beside Takemichi, his posture rigid, eyes scanning the crowd. The wind stirred his bangs as he clenched his fists by his sides, trying to steady his breath. Takemichi fidgeted nervously next to him, heart thudding in his chest.

Then, a hush fell across the crowd as two figures stepped forward—Draken, towering and composed, and Mikey, his usual unreadable expression shadowed under his hooded eyes.

Draken's voice rang clear and sharp: "The pre-battle meeting for our clash with Valhalla... starts now."

In an instant, every member straightened, the atmosphere becoming tense, solemn.

Mikey took a step forward, his gaze sweeping across his captains and members. "Thank you, everyone, for coming today," he began, voice even but tinged with weariness. "Tomorrow, we fight Valhalla. They’re the ones who threw the first punch. We don’t stand to gain anything from this... but we have no choice."

He paused, the silence that followed heavier than any shout.

"And Baji..." he continued, voice tightening, "Baji has chosen to stand with the enemy."

A ripple of unease passed through the gathered crowd.

"We don’t go easy on traitors." Mikey's tone was sharp now, almost cutting. "That’s Toman’s policy."

Chifuyu’s shoulders tensed as he lowered his head, his jaw clenched. "There's really no stopping this now... Takemichi," he whispered, voice barely audible. Takemichi’s lips pressed into a thin line, eyes fixed on Mikey.

Then, something in Mikey's expression shifted. His eyes lost their edge, and he fell silent. The crowd watched, uncertain.

"...Can I be a kid for a while?" he asked suddenly, voice quiet, raw.

Confused glances passed between the members. Even Takemichi and Chifuyu blinked, stunned by the unexpected question.

Mikey sat down on the stone steps in front of the shrine, lowering his head with a soft, bitter smile.

"I don’t want to fight my friend."

The words dropped like a stone in still water. A long pause followed, heavy with disbelief. Draken’s lips tugged into a quiet smile. Mitsuya smirked with amusement.

But Kisaki—standing further back—narrowed his eyes, his brow twitching ever so slightly.

Then Mikey stood again, fire returning to his gaze.

"But that’s my answer!" he shouted, voice echoing through the shrine grounds. "So please—everyone—lend me your strength! Tomorrow, we fight Valhalla, and we bring Baji back! That’s our battle!"

A roar erupted from the captains and members of Toman. Cheers and chants filled the air, fists raised in unified purpose. The shrine trembled with the weight of their shared resolve.

Takemichi looked at Mikey with wide eyes, relief washing over him like a wave. "Mikey-kun..." he breathed, smiling.

Beside him, Chifuyu exhaled, the tension in his shoulders loosening as a flicker of hope sparked in his chest.

But amidst the explosion of cheers, where voices echoed with loyalty and fists were raised in fierce unison, one figure remained still—Kisaki Tetta.

Frozen in place, his sharp gaze lingered on Mikey, calculating.

A twisted grin slowly unfurled on his lips, eyes gleaming with something darker than pride.

“This is it,” he murmured under his breath, voice nearly lost beneath the chanting. “The thing I’ve always wanted…!”

His fingers tightened into fists at his sides, as if clenching victory itself.

Up at the front, Mikey’s eyes wandered toward Draken. He gave a small laugh—quiet, a little self-deprecating.

“Sorry, Ken-chin… Did I fail to act like a proper commander just now?”

Draken glanced at him, lips curling slightly. The usual scowl softened into something more brotherly.

“Then let that cheer be your answer,” he said simply.

Mikey looked out across his gang—the boys shouting his name, chanting “Toman” with everything they had—and a soft, genuine smile curved on his lips.

The sun blazed down on the broken concrete of the abandoned garage as the sound of motorcycles echoed through the surrounding streets. Dust stirred in the dry morning air as figures—dozens, then hundreds—began to gather like vultures circling a battlefield.

By the time Takemichi arrived, the place was already crawling with bodies.

Men in leather jackets, mismatched uniforms, scarred faces, and wild hair leaned against rusted-out vehicles or squatted on scrap piles. It wasn’t just Valhalla and Toman anymore. It was everyone.

“Eh? Who are all these people?” Takemichi asked, his voice tight with unease as his eyes darted across the crowd.

“They’re spectators,” Chifuyu said, tone level but edged with tension. He glanced toward the center, where Valhalla’s members were laughing and jeering. His eyes lingered—just briefly—on Baji, who stood among them like a ghost from another life.

“This fight... it’s more than just a brawl,” Chifuyu continued. “Toman vs. Valhalla—whoever wins today takes one step closer to ruling Tokyo.” He looked around, watching the crowd shift and whisper. “This clash drew out the big names. All the influential delinquents in Tokyo came to witness it.”

Takemichi swallowed hard as he scanned the sea of dangerous faces. “Yeah... looks like nothing but bad news out here.”

Chifuyu nodded subtly and motioned toward two men standing with quiet authority near the edge of the crowd. “Like those two,” he said. “The Haitani Brothers.”

The first was tall and lean with sharp purple eyes and shoulder-length black-and-blond hair twisted into braids. A long tattoo snaked from the back of his neck down past where it disappeared into his sweater. He sat with a lazy tilt to his posture, but there was something menacing in his stillness.

Beside him, the other brother mirrored his aura—blond hair parted neatly, circular glasses resting on his nose. His purple eyes gleamed behind the lenses, unreadable. A gray turtleneck hugged his frame, the lines of their matching tattoos barely visible above his collar.

“They can summon a hundred men with just a single shout,” Chifuyu said under his breath. “They’re like celebrities in Roppongi.”

Takemichi’s eyes widened. “A hundred?!”

Chifuyu shifted again, this time nodding toward a sleek, matte black car with the broken engine. Upwards sat a massive man with a commanding presence despite eating massive foods in his lap. His face was unreadable, but his fingers drummed against the car door with precise rhythm.

“That’s Leanman. Controls Ueno. They say he’s an absolute juggernaut,” Chifuyu added.

Before Takemichi could respond, a wild, high-pitched laugh tore through the air like a siren. Heads turned as a lanky man with unruly black hair and slouched posture strolled into the garage with exaggerated flair. His voice carried like a whipcrack.

“It’s party time! Toman and Valhalla ain't worth a damn!”

Dozens of men in matching white jackets bowed in perfect sync.

“Good work, sir!”

The man ignored them as he lazily stood infront of the garage. “I’m the one overseeing today’s fight. The name’s Hansen—from Ikebukuro’s Criminal Black Members”

Takemichi blinked. “Overseeing?”

“He’s one of the big names from the ’88 Generation,” Chifuyu explained quickly. “He, the Haitani Brothers, Leanman… they’re all here just to watch. Think of them as referees. But make no doubt—each of them is a powerful rival to Toman in their own right.”

Takemichi’s heart thudded as he stared at the growing crowd of giants. ‘Are they really just going to sit back and watch?’ he thought nervously, wiping sweat from his palms onto his pants.

Then Chifuyu turned with a sharp look. “What are you dilly-dallying for?” he asked. “Let’s go. Our group’s over there.”

Takemichi nodded quickly, scrambling to keep up as they moved through the jungle of chaos and tension—toward the battlefield where everything would be decided.

“Are you guys ready!? Fighters, make your entrance!!” Hansen's voice roared like thunder, bouncing off the cracked walls of the abandoned garage.

With a loud, metallic groan, the two iron gates at either side of the lot creaked open.

From one side, the members of the Tokyo Manji Gang strode out with steady, purposeful steps. Their captains flanked the front lines, each wearing their signature uniforms with fierce pride. At the very back, walking in perfect sync, were Mikey and Draken, their presence alone drawing a wave of whispers from the crowd.

From the opposite gate, Valhalla emerged like a rising tide—wild, chaotic, and bloodthirsty. Their captains spread out in loose formation, some cracking their knuckles, others grinning like lunatics. Kazutora walked among them, head high, golden eyes sharp with anticipation. Beside him was Hanma, hands in his pockets, amusement playing on his lips.

The crowd rippled with energy.

"Stay on guard, Takemichi."

Chifuyu's voice was low, but tight with warning. Takemichi swallowed thickly and nodded, barely able to pull his eyes from the overwhelming sight.

"Yeah..."

Mikey stepped forward alone. His footsteps were silent, but each one pulled at the strings of tension in the air like a drawn blade.

“Is that... Mikey?”

“The Invincible Mikey... he’s really here...”

The crowd murmured, eyes wide. Some of the fiercest delinquents in Tokyo held their breath, watching him as if they were looking at something divine... or deadly.

Mikey stopped, his expression unreadable.

"Thanks for overseeing this fight today, Hansen-kun," he said flatly.

Hansen smirked, running a hand through his messy hair. “Tch. If this fight sucks, I’ll beat the shit out of you all myself.”

His threat hung in the air like smoke, but Mikey didn’t even flinch.

“Representatives from both teams, step forward!”

Kazutora and Draken broke from their ranks and met at the center. Their glares clashed before they did—neither willing to look away. Every pair of eyes in the crowd fixed on them.

Hansen crossed his arms. “Five-on-five with your best men? Or a no-holds-barred free-for-all? You choose.”

Draken answered, his voice calm but edged with steel. “Valhalla picked this fight the second they laid a finger on one of ours.” His glance flicked to Chifuyu briefly. “So you decide, Kazutora.”

Kazutora’s brow twitched. “Hah?”

Draken didn’t budge. “We have just one condition—we’re taking Baji back.”

Kazutora blinked, taken off guard.

“If Toman wins, Baji comes home. That’s it.”

Kazutora let out a dry laugh, but his tone was bitter. “You’re out of your damn mind. Baji joined us on his own. You’re talking nonsense!”

Draken took a single step forward. It was calm, deliberate—and carried the weight of a threat.

“We’re taking Baji back. That’s all.”

Kazutora’s eyes widened. His lips curled into a snarl. “You bastard…”

Then he snapped.

“BRING IT ON!!”

“Hey, I said not to—!” Hansen began, but Kazutora cut him off with a snarl. Kazutora lunged and slugged Hansen square in the jaw, then followed with a brutal punch to his gut.

“So lame!” Kazutora spat. He turned to face Toman, arms stretched mockingly wide. “You think this is some kind of game? ‘Overseer?’ ‘Conditions?’”

He jabbed a thumb at his own chest, voice rising. “We came here to beat you all to death!”

The atmosphere shattered. The crowd erupted with noise. Whispers turned into roars. The tension snapped into chaos.

Hanma’s grin widened, devilish and gleeful. “Shall we begin, Mikey?”

Mikey’s face twisted—not with confusion, but with cold, quiet rage.

“Let’s do this, Toman!!” he roared.

The shout lit a fire in their ranks. “TOMAN! TOMAN!”

the chant echoed as the gang surged forward like a wave.

From Valhalla, the answer was just as vicious.

“KILL THEM!!”

The two armies collided with a deafening crash—and the battle began.

Chapter Text

The battlefield was chaos.

Dust and shouts filled the air as fists met flesh and bodies slammed against concrete. Screams, roars, and battle cries blended into one violent symphony—but amid it all, Chifuyu Matsuno was calm. Focused.

He stood tall in the middle of the clash, his black uniform fluttering as he surveyed the brawl with sharp, calculating eyes.

A Valhalla member lunged at him with a rusted pipe, shouting a wild war cry.

Chifuyu ducked, clean and quick, sidestepping the swing with practiced ease. In one smooth motion, he grabbed the thug’s wrist, twisted it harshly until the pipe clattered to the ground—and slammed his elbow into the guy’s jaw. The Valhalla member crumpled like a puppet with cut strings.

"Don't get cocky," Chifuyu muttered, already turning to face the next threat.

A group of three closed in on him, thinking they could overpower him with numbers.

Big mistake.

The first charged head-on. Chifuyu didn’t hesitate—he darted in, caught the guy’s collar mid-punch, and drove his knee into the thug’s ribs. A wet gasp escaped the man's lips as he dropped, breathless.

The second tried to blindside him.

But Chifuyu spun, eyes gleaming with precision, and planted a brutal side-kick to the attacker’s temple. The impact echoed, sending the guy sprawling across the pavement with a pained groan.

The third hesitated—fear flickering across his face.

Chifuyu tilted his head, cracking his knuckles slowly. “Come on then,” he said coolly, voice low and steady like a veteran soldier.

The thug didn’t last long.

He charged, but Chifuyu was faster. A clean jab to the throat, a sweep to the legs, and a final fist to the face—the guy hit the ground and didn’t get back up.

Takemichi, a few feet away, barely managed to block an attack with his forearms, panting hard. His eyes widened when he caught sight of Chifuyu.

He wasn’t just holding his own—he was cutting through the chaos like a blade.

"Chifuyu... You're incredible," Takemichi breathed.

Chifuyu didn’t respond. He was already moving, already reading the battlefield like a chessboard.

He caught sight of another Valhalla captain trying to overwhelm one of Toman’s younger members—Chifuyu dashed in without hesitation, delivered a punch to the side of the attacker’s head, and yanked the younger member behind him.

"Watch your back next time," he said sharply, eyes scanning for the next threat.

Fists bruised and blood running down his jawline, Chifuyu stood in the storm like it was nothing new.

Not a hero. Not a commander. Just a fighter doing what he must.

And somewhere near the edge of the fight, Baji—still watching from the sidelines—narrowed his eyes at the scene.

His gaze locked on Chifuyu.

“Dumbass,” Baji muttered, but his chest felt... tight. Watching Chifuyu fight, fiercely and without fear, just to protect Toman—just to protect the others...

He clenched his fists.

“Why do you always make things harder, Chifuyu…”

Adrenaline coursed like fire through Chifuyu’s veins.

Each heartbeat was a drum in his ears, every movement sharp and instinctive—just like Ren had drilled into him over the summer in Furin. Those long, sweaty days of sparring, of relentless footwork and fist control, were now paying off tenfold in the chaos around him.

He spun, elbowed, dodged—his body moving with deadly precision. But even as he held his ground, his eyes were everywhere.

That’s when he saw him—Takemichi, bruised and crawling, grabbed roughly by a Valhalla thug who loomed over him like a predator ready to strike.

No time to think. Just move.

“Oi!” Chifuyu barked, legs already pumping. He closed the distance in a flash and launched his foot, kicking the Valhalla thug clean across the temple. The guy’s head snapped sideways, and he stumbled back—

—just as Mitsuya’s kick slammed into the thug’s stomach, sending him flying backwards into the crowd.

Chifuyu blinked in surprise, then let out a quick breath, grateful. "You’re a lifesaver, Mitsuya-san.”

Mitsuya didn’t reply right away. Instead, he turned his gaze on Takemichi, who was still wide-eyed on the ground.

“Stand up, Takemichi.” Mitsuya extended a hand, and Takemichi scrambled to grab it.

“Mitsuya-kun! Thanks for the hel—”

But before he could finish, Mitsuya yanked him forward by the collar.

“Wha—?! Mitsuya-san?!” Chifuyu shouted, alarmed, stepping forward instinctively—but he paused when he caught the flash of restrained frustration in Mitsuya’s eyes.

Mitsuya’s voice was low, sharp, almost growling with fury.

“What are you even doing here, you moron?! We’re in the middle of a warzone!” he barked, shaking Takemichi slightly by the collar. “And you’re a part of our Second Squad, aren’t you?!”

Takemichi blinked, stunned by the sudden scolding.

Chifuyu relaxed, watching quietly. Mitsuya’s words weren’t meant to scorn—they were a reminder. A wake-up call. In this battlefield, you either stood your ground, or you were crushed beneath someone else's.

Another Valhalla punk charged forward, eyes wild and fists cocked—intent on taking one of them out.

But Mitsuya was faster. His fist shot forward with surgical precision, slamming into the guy’s jaw and sending him staggering back into the chaos.

“Don’t let your guard down!” Mitsuya barked, glancing sharply between Chifuyu and Takemichi.

Takemichi flinched, startled—and ashamed.

‘He’s right,’ he thought, teeth clenching. I can’t let myself get taken out now. I won’t be able to do anything—not save Baji, not help Mikey, not protect anyone—if I go down here…

His eyes narrowed, trying to steel himself.

Gotta focus. Just focus on the enemy in front of me.

But then—

Two towering figures emerged from the chaos, shadows against the pale sky, eyes locked onto him with cold, predatory glares.

Takemichi’s breath hitched.

‘W-Wait… wait… wait!!’ his mind screamed. ‘They’re already here?! I’m not ready for this—I’m just a small fry! A low-level punk up against real monsters—!’

His knees threatened to buckle, and he could feel his eyes sting—tears of sheer panic threatening to fall.

And then—

A quiet chuckle, low and familiar, warmed his back like a blanket in winter.

“You really that scared?”

Takemichi snapped his head back, startled.

Chifuyu stood just behind him, blood on his knuckles, a bruise blooming on his cheek—but that calm grin was still on his face. His tone wasn’t mocking. It was steady, grounding.

“Just focus on the guy in front of you, partner.”

Takemichi blinked. Something in those words—partner—cut through the fog of fear. Chifuyu’s eyes were sharp but calm, like he’d already decided a hundred times over not to fall here.

Like he had Takemichi’s back no matter what.

“Chifuyu…” Takemichi whispered, breath catching in his throat.

“I’ll watch your back,” Chifuyu grinned, then winked. “So don’t get dropped before I do.”

Something clicked in Takemichi’s chest. His fear didn’t vanish—but it shifted, reshaped into resolve.

“Everyone gets scared during a fight.” Chifuyu’s voice cut through the noise again—calm but firm.

He turned fully to Takemichi, eyes steady despite the chaos around them.

“But what matters is what you do with that fear. How you handle it—that’s what separates punks from the ones who stand tall.”

Takemichi stared at him, breath shaking.

Then—

A flash of a memory.

Hina.

Her smile. Her hand in his.

Her lifeless body.

Gone. Because I wasn’t strong enough.

Something inside him cracked—and then locked into place.

“Chifuyu…” he murmured, but Chifuyu didn’t need to hear the rest. He just gave a small nod and turned to cover his flank again.

Then—

A Valhalla thug lunged at Takemichi, fist raised, teeth bared.

Takemichi’s heart pounded, but this time—

He didn’t run.

He let out a shout—half war cry, half defiance—and threw his fist forward.

It collided with the guy’s face in a solid, awkward punch that sent shockwaves up his arm.

His knuckles screamed in pain.

But the guy stumbled back.

Takemichi gasped for breath, pain throbbing in his hand—but his eyes widened in disbelief.

I… I landed it!

No, it wasn’t clean. It wasn’t cool.

But it was real.

“I… I can do this…” he whispered.

Chifuyu glanced back with a proud little smirk.

“That’s it. Now don’t stop.”

And Takemichi didn’t.

Draken’s fist collided with another Valhalla member’s jaw, sending the guy flying. He took a second to shake the blood off his knuckles and turned sharply.

“Mitsuya! You okay?” he called over the roar of chaos.

Mitsuya ducked a punch, countered with a brutal hook to the ribs, and wiped the blood from his lip with the back of his sleeve.

“Yeah, holding steady!”

Draken glanced around, sweat clinging to his temple as he scanned the battlefield.

“Damn… There’s too many of them.”

“Right?” Mitsuya grunted as he shoved another Valhalla punk aside. “We’re outnumbered two to one—150 versus 300. And they’re not just random thugs—they’re older, bigger, and way more vicious.”

He watched one of their own get tackled to the ground and stomped on. Before the next blow could land, Draken charged forward, slamming his fist into the attacker and knocking him off his feet.

“Tch… morale’s crashing,” Draken muttered, eyes narrowing as he saw more of their squad hunched over, bleeding, struggling just to breathe. We can’t hold on like this.

Then—

A sharp, piercing voice ripped through the noise.

“COME AND GET ME, YOU PUNKS!!!”

Draken’s eyes snapped up, and what he saw made his chest jolt.

Takemichi—bloody, bruised, absolutely wrecked—was standing in the middle of it all, swinging wildly at Valhalla members who easily dodged his flailing fists. But he didn’t stop.

He roared, again and again, throat raw, body trembling.

“YOU WON’T TAKE ME DOWN!!! I’M GONNA FINISH THIS FIGHT!!!”

Around him, even the Valhalla punks hesitated.

And Toman’s bloodied ranks… stared.

Is that Takemichi…? Still standing? Still screaming?

Then—

“I’M GONNA FIGHT…” he gasped between ragged breaths.

“AND KICK—ALL—YOUR—ASSES!!”

And finally, his knees gave out. His body dropped—

But Mitsuya caught him before he hit the ground.

He smiled, brushing Takemichi’s sweat-soaked hair from his eyes.

“Not bad… Takemichi.”

Something snapped inside the wounded Toman members.

They clutched their bleeding limbs, grit their teeth, and pushed themselves up.

“That idiot…!”

“Damn it, I can’t let him show me up…”

“LET’S SHOW THEM WHAT TOMAN IS MADE OF!”

The air crackled as rage turned to resolve.

Their spirits reignited.

One by one, the fallen began to rise—roaring back into the fight.

Draken glanced over, eyes widening slightly at the sight of Mitsuya cradling an utterly exhausted Takemichi, his smile soft but proud.

“They’re fine now,” Mitsuya said simply, as if that one sentence carried the weight of an entire army’s morale.

A slow smirk spread across Draken’s face. He rolled his shoulders, loosening the tension in his arms, cracking his knuckles like war drums.

“Looks like they didn’t need protecting after all…” he said, voice rising with growing heat. “Time to go offensive.”

Takemichi blinked up at him, dazed, chest still heaving from his outburst. Draken looked down and grinned.

“You opened my eyes, Takemichi.”

Then, his expression hardened—eyes snapping to the Valhalla punks circling them.

“LET’S GO, YOU BASTARDS!!!” Draken’s roar boomed across the battlefield like a shockwave.

Fueled by his voice, Toman members surged to their feet, battle cries erupting like thunder. Morale reignited, fists clenched, they charged forward with renewed fire.

Chifuyu stepped up beside Takemichi, dust and blood streaked across his cheek as he grinned.

“Look at that, Takemichi,” he said, jerking his chin toward the battlefield. “Now that Draken’s free to move…”

Draken was a storm in motion. One Valhalla fighter lunged at him—only to get flattened by a spinning elbow. Another tried to flank him but got sent flying with a straight punch that cracked like thunder.

“DON’T GET IN MY WAY!!!” Draken roared, plowing through the enemy lines like a bulldozer. Each punch, each kick, sent opponents sprawling.

Valhalla members stared at him—eyes wide, breath caught between awe and terror.

“He can shift the tide of this whole damn war by himself…” Chifuyu said, his voice rising with pride, fists clenched.

“That’s Toman’s Second-in-Command—Ken Ryuguji!”

As the chaos swallowed the garage, Chifuyu's breath steadied.

His heartbeat pounded like a war drum in his ears, blood hot with adrenaline—but his eyes were sharp. Focused. The noise faded. Only the enemy in front of him mattered now.

A Valhalla punk lunged toward him, snarling with a makeshift pipe in hand. Too slow.

Chifuyu stepped to the side in one smooth motion, catching the thug's wrist mid-swing and twisting hard—the metal pipe dropped with a clatter. Before the guy could react, Chifuyu's knee slammed into his gut, knocking the wind out of him. The moment he doubled over, Chifuyu finished with a sharp roundhouse kick to the temple. The Valhalla member crumpled to the ground.

“You picked the wrong day to mess with me,” Chifuyu muttered, already scanning the field for the next target.

Two more came at him from both sides. Chifuyu didn’t retreat.

He remembered Ren’s voice from summer training at Furin: “Stay light. Anticipate. Your eyes will buy you the time your body needs.”

He ducked low, just under a hook punch, grabbing the attacker's shirt and using his momentum to slam him into the other guy. They tumbled over one another, giving Chifuyu just enough room to move in and deliver a solid heel stomp to knock the wind out of them both.

“Damn…” one of the Toman fighters nearby muttered, catching sight of him. “Since when did Chifuyu fight like that?!”

Takemichi, still catching his breath, looked up with wide eyes. That wasn’t the same Chifuyu from before. This one was precise, fierce, and utterly unrelenting.

Chifuyu turned, shirt torn and lip bleeding, but his grin was wolfish. His fists clenched tighter.

Ren’s training wasn’t for nothing. I’m not just someone who stands in the background anymore.

Another gang member rushed him with a shout—but Chifuyu didn't flinch. He met him head-on, ducked low, and struck him square in the liver with a brutal jab, dropping him instantly.

“Come on!” he shouted to the nearest Valhalla crew, blood on his teeth as he smiled. “Who’s next?!”

One of them took a step back.

Chifuyu stood tall amid the bodies—dust swirling, blood on his knuckles, eyes blazing.

Toman won't fall today. Not on my watch.

The garage was a storm of fists, blood, and chaos—but Chifuyu kept moving like he was born in the thick of it. His muscles screamed, sweat clung to his skin, and his breath was ragged—but his eyes burned with focus.

He heard it before he saw it—Mitsuya’s voice, gritting in pain.

Chifuyu whipped his head around. Across the chaos, Mitsuya had just taken a hit to the ribs, staggering a little as three Valhalla members cornered him.

“Mitsuya-san!” Chifuyu didn’t think—he ran.

One of the Valhalla thugs raised a steel rod and swung.

CLANG!

The rod met Chifuyu’s forearm—he gritted his teeth, pain searing up his arm, but he didn’t stop. He drove his elbow into the attacker’s chin, sending him flying backward.

The second thug rushed with a kick—Chifuyu blocked with his already aching arm and punched low into the guy’s thigh, then brought his heel down on his knee with a brutal crunch. The thug screamed, dropping like a sack of bricks.

“Two down—” Chifuyu spun and barely dodged the third, but Mitsuya caught him.

“I’ve got this one,” Mitsuya said, breathless but smiling through the blood. He grabbed the thug’s collar and kneed him square in the face.

Both stood back-to-back, breathing heavily.

“You good?” Chifuyu asked.

“Never better,” Mitsuya smirked. “I owe you one.”

Chifuyu chuckled, but there was no time to rest. The crowd shifted—more Valhalla members were breaking through, aiming straight for Takemichi, who was still on his knees, trying to recover.

“No—!” Chifuyu launched forward again, legs burning, and body-checked a thug just as he raised a fist, knocking him clean off his feet.

He turned on the next one and growled, “You want him? Go through me.”

More of Toman saw it—Chifuyu, bloodied, standing like a wall over Takemichi.

“Damn, is that Chifuyu?” one of the newer recruits muttered. “He’s like a beast out there.”

“That’s our vice-captain,” another grinned.

The morale shifted. As if Chifuyu’s fire was contagious, the rest of the squad rallied behind him, surging forward with renewed rage.

“FOR TOMAN!” they screamed.

Valhalla started buckling—Chifuyu’s defiance had sparked a turning point.

Mikey, still fighting his way to Kazutora, paused and glanced toward the second squad. He saw the silhouette of Chifuyu—blood-soaked, barely standing, but undaunted.

A faint smile tugged at Mikey’s lips.

“Good,” he muttered. “You’re leading well, Chifuyu.”

And somewhere above the battlefield, standing among the spectators, Haitani Ran raised a brow.

“That kid… Chifuyu? He’s got bite,” he mused.

His brother Rindou smirked. “Let’s see if he can hold out long enough.”

The clang of fists and screams echoed through the garage, a battlefield carved out of concrete and fury.

Baji stood near the heart of the Valhalla formation, arms folded, watching the chaos unfold. His eyes were sharp, yet something burned under his chest—restlessness, unease. Even now, after declaring himself Valhalla’s member, he couldn’t bring himself to fight full force.

Then—his eyes locked onto a familiar flash of movement.

Chifuyu.

Blood streaked his temple. His shirt was torn, knuckles raw, but his stance was unshaken. He twisted around a taller thug, ducked low under a wild hook, and delivered a brutal uppercut to the guy’s chin, sending him reeling back. Another came from behind—Chifuyu pivoted and kneed him hard in the ribs, then elbowed him in the throat without hesitation.

Baji’s eyes widened, genuinely stunned.

“That little bastard’s gotten good.”

Chifuyu caught sight of Baji briefly—and for a flicker of a second, Baji swore he saw that same fire from their first days together. The kind that said: "I won't back down."

Valhallas grunts tried to surround him, but Chifuyu moved like a blade—fluid, relentless. No wasted effort. His fists weren’t wild—they were trained. Focused. 

Baji's jaw clenched.

Since when can he fight good? You serious, Chifuyu?

One Valhalla punk tried to blindside him. Chifuyu spun on his heel, grabbed the guy’s collar, and slammed his forehead into his nose—blood sprayed, and the man dropped.

Baji blinked.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath.

“When did you start fighting like that…?”

Another Valhalla member beside Baji scoffed. “That first squad vice-captain’s putting on a show, huh?”

Baji’s hand twitched at his side, fists curling. “That ain’t a show,” he muttered. His lips twitched, part grimace, part grin.

“That’s Chifuyu when he’s serious.”

For a moment, pride settled in his chest, almost like guilt.

You really are trying to hold Toman together without me, huh?

Baji glanced away, heart thudding louder than the battle.

Don’t make it harder for me to walk away, Chifuyu.

Chifuyu ducked under a wild swing, landed a solid punch to his opponent’s gut, and sent the guy sprawling. His breathing was steady now, movements honed and sharp—until a bloodcurdling scream shattered his rhythm.

“MIKEY!!!”

Chifuyu’s head snapped up, heart lurching into his throat. On top of a tower of stacked cars, Mikey’s body slumped forward, a steel crowbar clanging to the floor beneath him. Blood dripped from his forehead like ink on parchment.

“Mikey-kun!” Takemichi cried out, frozen in horror.

Chifuyu’s fists clenched, but then— 

Twitch.

 Mikey’s fingers curled. He slowly sat up, head still hanging low.

Chifuyu let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Of course he got back up. That was Mikey. Unbreakable.

But then—

“Am I your enemy?” Mikey’s voice was eerily calm.

Across from him stood Kazutora, crowbar still gripped tight, his face twisted into something grotesque—an echo of pain masquerading as purpose.

“I... I suffered because of you,” Kazutora seethed. “It’s your fault I got sent to juvie!”

Mikey blinked slowly, blood trailing down one temple. “What the heck are you saying?” His voice wasn’t angry—just... tired.

Kazutora’s body trembled, veins bulging along his neck. His next words dripped with venom. “Of course you’re my enemy.”

He climbed higher, planting himself like a preacher before a congregation. His arms stretched wide as he looked down at Mikey, eyes fever-bright.

“Did you know, Mikey?” His tone was laced with dark reverence. “If you kill people, it makes you a bad guy. But if you kill enemies... it makes you a hero.”

Silence blanketed the battlefield.

“What the hell is he saying…?” Takemichi whispered, pale.

Draken’s jaw tightened. “Kazutora…”

Hanma let out a twisted laugh. “He totally lost it!”

But Chifuyu didn’t laugh. He didn’t speak. He only stared.

That guy… That’s the name Baji-san wrote in that letter.

 The one he never let anyone else read. Kazutora.

Chifuyu’s brows furrowed. His jaw locked.

“What did you see in him, Baji-san…?” he whispered, heart twisting.

Kazutora looked like a man who’d already drowned—still walking, still talking, but utterly consumed. 

Two Valhalla members clamped down on Mikey—one at each arm, holding him in place like he was just another punching bag. Blood was already streaking down his face, his body limp but his eyes… those black, silent eyes still burned.

Kazutora descended from the pile of wreckage like a shadow. His crowbar glinted under the dull light as he walked up to Mikey, face twisted in obsession.

“Hold him tight,” he ordered, voice sharp with a wild edge.

But when he looked into Mikey’s eyes, Kazutora froze. The blank, cold fury behind those lashes made his smirk falter.

Whack. 

The crowbar slammed down onto Mikey’s skull.

Blood splashed the ground like red rain.

Takemichi gasped, heart lurching into his throat. Hanma, watching from a distance, chuckled darkly. “That’s the end of him.”

Kazutora raised the crowbar again. Another sickening crack echoed as metal met bone. Mikey’s head jerked but didn’t fall. The spectators, dulled by violence, didn’t even flinch.

Ran Haitani watched with lazy eyes. “Mikey lost.”

“No!” Takemichi shouted, his voice cracking. He stared up at the scene in disbelief. “They’re holding his arms and legs— that’s not a fight!!”

Draken lunged forward, fury written across his face, but Hanma blocked his path with a lazy grin.

“Your opponent’s me, remember?” Hanma taunted, dancing back with maddening glee.

Kazutora raised the crowbar a third time, eyes wild, blood staining his hands like war paint.

“To become a hero... I will kill the enemy.”

The weapon swung again, smashing against Mikey’s head. Blood streamed down his face, soaking into his collar. The Toman captains—Mitsuya, Smiley, even Chifuyu—stood rooted in place, jaws clenched. The air turned cold. Dead.

“Mikey-kun!!” Takemichi screamed, heart breaking.

Then— A low murmur. Barely a whisper through the blood.

“Kill the enemy?”

The two Valhalla grunts holding Mikey flinched.

Mikey’s head slowly lifted. His gaze locked onto Kazutora, and in that moment, everything shifted. The air thickened. Time slowed.

“So that’s the reason…” he muttered, a deep, deadly calm in his voice. “…you killed my brother?”

Kazutora’s eyes widened—terror creeping into his expression for the first time.

Crack! Mikey threw his head back and smashed it into the face of the man behind him. The grunt howled and fell.

The second captor tightened his grip, but Mikey’s leg rose—with him still clinging to it.

“He’s lifting me?!” the grunt cried, stunned.

Crash! Mikey’s heel came down like a guillotine, driving into Kazutora’s skull. The Valhalla leader crumpled without a word, unconscious before he hit the ground.

And Mikey… Mikey stood in the wreckage of three broken men. Blood trailing down his face. Chest rising and falling slowly. A monster awakened.

And it was only the beginning.

Chapter Text

Flashback: Summer Training with Kaji Ren

 Months earlier — Furin High’s rooftop.

Chifuyu hit the pavement again. Hard. His elbows scraped, breath rattling as his vision blurred. But he gritted his teeth, pushing himself back up on shaky legs.

Across from him, Ren stood tall, arms crossed, gaze sharp and unreadable.

“That was the fifth time you left your left side open.” Ren’s voice was cool. Not mocking. Just real.

Chifuyu spat blood and grinned. “Then I’ll block it the sixth.”

Ren raised a brow. “You think heart makes up for skill?”

“No,” Chifuyu panted. “That’s why I’m here.”

The words made Ren pause. Then, finally, he stepped forward.

“You’re Vice-Captain now. Not just some scrappy middle-schooler behind your captain's shadow,” he said. “That means when it gets bad—real bad—you stand, no matter what. Even if you’re scared. Even if you're bleeding.”

Chifuyu’s fists clenched tighter. “I’m not scared.”

Ren smirked. “You should be. But I know you’ll still fight.”

He suddenly lunged, and this time, Chifuyu blocked it—barely.

Ren nodded once.

“You’ll do fine.”

---

Back to Present – Battlefield

The garage was deathly still for a heartbeat, the clang of metal and grunts of fighting momentarily eclipsed by hushed, awed whispers. All eyes were drawn to the top of the stacked wrecked cars—where Mikey stood amid the crumpled bodies of three Valhalla captains, each taken down in a devastating blur of violence.

Mikey swayed.

His chest heaved with shallow, labored breaths. Blood matted his hair, streaking down his bruised face, staining the front of his uniform. Then—like a puppet with cut strings—he dropped gracefully to one knee.

Takemichi gasped, his breath hitching in his throat.

“…Hey.”

“Mikey took a knee…”

“He’s tired…”

“He’s losing too much blood.”

“…Think we can finish him off?”

The whispers hissed through the air like snakes.

From the base of the wreckage, Hanma and Draken broke apart from their clash, chests heaving, blood splattered across their faces. Hanma grinned like a hyena, licking his lips.

“Nice one, Kazutora,” he chuckled darkly.

Up top, Mikey hadn’t moved. Blood trickled from a split at his temple, eyes glassy but defiant.

“Hey… he’s not moving!”

“This is our chance!”

The muttering grew louder, more vicious. One of the remaining Valhalla captains straightened from the crowd like a vulture spotting a carcass. His eyes gleamed as he raised a baston—a short, brutal baton glinting under the dim garage light.

“All of you, follow me!!” he roared.

“We’re gonna crush Mikey!”

A savage cheer answered him.

“Let’s go!!”

“Yeah!!!”

A dozen Valhalla grunts surged forward, scrambling up the stacked cars like rabid animals. Their boots scraped against rusted metal, hands clawing for handholds as they ascended toward Mikey’s limp figure.

Takemichi’s eyes widened in horror.

“That’s bad! Another Valhalla captain’s still standing!”

He squinted at the man’s face.

“Wait… do I know him from somewhere…?”

But there was no time to think.

“Mikey!” Takemichi screamed, voice cracking. “Someone—help him!!”

Across the battlefield, chaos ruled.

Mitsuya gritted his teeth, elbows flying as he fought off a wave of Valhalla soldiers.

“Move, dammit!” he snarled, driving a fist into one opponent’s jaw—but more kept coming.

Hakkai had two on his back, barely shaking them off before a third slammed into his side.

Smiley let out a strangled laugh as someone yanked his hair and pummeled his face.

“There’s too many of you assholes!” he hissed, blood flying from his nose as he struck back.

The Toman captains fought hard—but they were outnumbered.

Chifuyu ducked under a punch, spun, and drove his knuckles into someone’s face. Another came from the side—he blocked, twisted their wrist, and dropped them with a knee to the ribs.

“Damn it! There’s no end to them!!” he shouted, chest heaving.

Nearby, Draken battered Hanma over and over again, fists cracking against bone. But Hanma only grinned wider, soaking the damage like a man possessed.

“What the hell are you, a damn zombie?!” Draken barked, sweat and blood dripping down his jaw.

And still—no one could reach Mikey in time.

The Valhalla swarm was closing in.

Mikey, wounded and unmoving, remained kneeling in the wreckage. The blood pooling beneath him glistened under the harsh garage lights.

Takemichi’s chest heaved as his eyes darted across the battlefield.

All the captains were occupied.

Mitsuya, Hakkai, Smiley, Chifuyu—each one was drowning in a sea of Valhalla fists.

“What now…?” he whispered, panic swelling in his throat. His fists clenched at his sides as he looked up at the mountain of cars.

And at Mikey, still on his knees, bleeding. Vulnerable.

“I must save him!”

With a roar of defiance, Takemichi sprinted toward the wreckage.

“MIKEY-KUN!!” he shouted.

But he wasn’t alone.

Valhalla grunts stormed toward the same pile. One caught Takemichi mid-run with a brutal punch to the cheek.

“Get outta the way!” the man barked.

Takemichi stumbled, blood in his mouth.

“Takemichi!” Chifuyu shouted from the fray, locked in combat with two Valhalla punks.

Chifuyu snarled, headbutting one in the nose with a sickening crack, then slamming his fists into the others’ faces.

Meanwhile, Takemichi kept running—taking blows as he did. Fists pummeled his ribs, a boot kicked his thigh, someone grabbed his face and tried to drag him down. He bit down hard on the arm, forcing them to let go.

“Outta my way!!” he roared, shoving two grunts aside.

He scrambled up the wreckage, bruised and gasping.

And then he froze.

The Valhalla captain had reached the top.

He loomed over Mikey’s kneeling figure, Baston raised high, eyes manic.

“Your boss’s head is mine!!”

Takemichi’s breath caught in his throat.

It’s over…!

But just as the baton was about to fall—a fist slammed into the captain’s jaw.

Kisaki.

He moved like a ghost, striking fast and cold. The Valhalla captain crumpled, stunned, only for Kisaki to slam his foot down on his head with a sickening crunch.

Takemichi gasped, wide-eyed.

“Tokyo Manji Gang 3rd Squad Captain, Tetta Kisaki,” Kisaki declared, voice firm.

“My squad will take full responsibility and protect our leader.”

More Toman members surged up behind him, throwing Valhalla attackers back down the car stack. The tide shifted.

Takemichi stared at the unconscious Valhalla captain, brain whirring.

“Wait… I’ve seen him before… with Kisaki…”

His stomach turned.

“Eh? What does this mean…?”

Below, the battlefield churned. Mitsuya looked up and chuckled.

“Wow. Not bad at all, Kisaki.”

Chifuyu, breathing hard, clicked his tongue.

“Tch… trying to be president or something?” he muttered under his breath, fists clenched.

Baji will take him down.

He didn’t say it aloud—but he believed it with everything he had.

Takemichi blinked, realization slamming into him.

“I see it now…!”

“It doesn’t matter to Kisaki who wins this fight!”

His eyes locked on Kisaki, rage bubbling.

Cheers broke out among Toman’s ranks:

“He protected Mikey!”

“Kisaki’s awesome!”

“Pretty good work for a new guy!”

Takemichi’s heart twisted.

''This is how he wins Mikey’s trust… if Toman wins, he’ll look like a hero. And if Toman loses, we’ll be absorbed into Valhalla anyway. Either way, Kisaki comes out on top…''

''This whole fight plays into his plan to take over Toman!!''

Smiley snorted from below.

“He really swooped in to take the good part…”

Takemichi trembled.

“Damn it… what is this guy?! Everything’s under his control, even when no one realizes it!”

“KISAKI! Good work!”

Takemichi’s head snapped toward the voice.

Draken.

The vice-captain called out with sincerity, completely unaware of the snake he’d just praised.

Takemichi’s eyes filled with despair.

“No… You’ve got it all wrong, Draken-kun…”

“This guy—Kisaki—he’s trying to take over Toman… and he tried to kill you!!”

His thoughts screamed louder than his voice ever could.

“I’m leaving Mikey to you!!” Draken yelled, placing his trust in the wrong hands.

Takemichi could only stare, heart breaking.

And the tears began to fall.

Suddenly, the sharp clatter of footsteps echoed across the battlefield.

Someone was sprinting toward the car stack—

A glint of metal in his hand.

“I’ve been waiting for this… Kisaki!!”

CRACK!

The crowbar slammed against Kisaki’s head.

The self-proclaimed tactician of Toman collapsed instantly, his body hitting the metal surface with a dull thud.

Cheers erupted from Valhalla.

“BAJI!!!”

Valhalla howled in celebration.

“Baji, stop it!!” Draken shouted from below, fury and desperation in his voice.

“We’re here to bring you back!!” Mitsuya added, his fists clenched in frustration.

But before Baji could go for another strike, a Toman member grabbed him by the collar, yanking him down off the car stack.

Kisaki’s body was curled in pain, but he was conscious.

“Are you okay, Kisaki-san?!” the Toman member asked urgently.

But Kisaki didn’t answer immediately.

He sat up slowly, blood trickling down his temple, then ripped off his cracked glasses, chucking them to the ground.

“Buzzing. Buzzing…” he muttered through clenched teeth, glaring murderously at Baji.

“He’s like a damn fly circling around me…”

His gaze turned sharp.

“Beat him to death.”

Toman members moved in, ready to obey.

But Baji stood up, crowbar still in hand, a crooked grin on his bloodied face.

“Bring it on.”

“KISAKI!!” Baji shouted, Takemichi's heart raced.

He looked on, helpless.

“This is bad…”

Then—Chifuyu broke from the crowd, rushing toward Baji.

“Baji-san!!”

He threw his arms out wide, placing himself between Baji and the others. Baji halted, taken aback for just a second, then his eyes narrowed, his face turning cold.

“Chifuyu.”

The way he said it—no warmth, no kindness—hit Chifuyu like a slap. His throat tightened.

But he didn’t move.

“What are you doing?” Baji asked, his tone laced with ice.

“Baji-san, don’t do this.” Chifuyu’s voice cracked.

“If you take down Kisaki now… you’ll be turning against Mikey-kun!”

Baji’s eyes darkened.

“If you want to beat Kisaki for Toman, now is not—”

WHAM.

Baji’s fist collided with Chifuyu’s face, sending him stumbling back.

Blood spilled from Chifuyu’s mouth as he steadied himself, gasping.

“Don’t get full of yourself, Chifuyu,” Baji growled coldly.

“I only kept you around because you were useful in fights. I don’t care what you think.”

Chifuyu froze.

His heart shattered at the words—cruel, dismissive, calculated.

He stared at Baji with wide, devastated eyes.

Then something in him snapped.

He spat blood and straightened up, trembling but defiant.

“I’m the 1st Squad Vice-Captain! Ryusei entrusted me to protect you!!”

His voice cracked, but his resolve held strong.

“If you’re really going through with this—then I won’t hold back, either!”

He snarled, fists rising.

Baji stared him down.

“Then do it.”

Cold. Flat. No hesitation.

Chifuyu panted, breath shaky. His whole body trembled from pain and betrayal.

Baji adjusted his stance.

Chifuyu's breath came in ragged gasps. The blood dripping from his lip tasted bitter, but not as bitter as the cold words still echoing in his mind.

“I’ll give you ten seconds.”

Baji’s voice rang out like a sentence.

He took a step back, standing tall—composed, fearless.

“Ten.”

Chifuyu’s fists clenched at his sides. His vision blurred, not from the punch, but from the ache in his chest.

“Baji-san…”

“Nine.”

Chifuyu swallowed hard.

You don’t mean it.

He had to believe that.

He had to.

“Eight.”

A single breath. In and out.

Chifuyu raised his fists.

“Seven.”

Their eyes locked. For a split second, the Baji Keisuke he knew flickered behind the cold mask. But it vanished just as quickly.

“Six.”

Valhalla began to gather around, sensing the tension.

Toman’s members looked up in horror.

“What the hell are they doing?!”

“Are they really gonna fight each other?!”

“Five.”

Chifuyu took a step forward. His knees shook, but his heart blazed.

“Baji-san… if you’re going to throw everything away—Toman, Mikey-kun, your own squad—then I’ll be the one to stop you.”

“Four.”

Baji didn’t move. Just watched.

Chifuyu saw something. A faint twitch in his jaw. Conflict. Pain. But he stood tall.

“Three.”

Tears spilled from Chifuyu’s eyes, but he didn’t look away.

“Two.”

“Even if you hate me after this…”

He raised his fist.

“…I’ll still protect you.”

“One.”

A moment of stillness.

And then—

Crack!

Chifuyu’s foot snapped toward Baji’s head the instant he counted “one.” Baji’s arm came up just in time to block it, eyes narrowing in surprise.

“You’ve changed,” he muttered, steadying himself.

“I’m not the same naive person you once knew, Baji-san!” Chifuyu snapped, landing back on the ground, chest heaving. “If stopping you means knocking you unconscious to bring you home—then I will!”

He charged again, fists raised—but Takemichi threw himself between them, wrapping his arms around Baji’s waist in a clumsy tackle.

“Chifuyu! We have to protect Baji-kun!” he shouted desperately. “Let’s stop him together!”

Chifuyu froze for a breath, stunned. Takemichi…? His eyes met Takemichi’s, and for a flicker of a second, Chifuyu felt relief. He wasn’t alone in this.

But then— A shadow passed behind Baji.

No.

Chifuyu’s blood ran cold as he saw the glint of steel in Kazutora’s hand, creeping behind Baji’s unguarded back.

A knife.

What the hell—?!

The world slowed. Memories of Baji leaving him, whispering something about Kazutora and his sins, surged through Chifuyu’s mind.

Is he going to stab him?! 

No. Not like this. 

NOT Baji-san!

Without hesitation, Chifuyu lunged.

Crack! 

His foot slammed into Kazutora’s wrist, sending the knife clattering across the ground with a sharp clang.

But pain flared immediately in Chifuyu’s leg—hot, slicing. The knife had grazed him mid-kick, but he didn’t stop.

Everyone stared—Baji, Takemichi, even Kazutora—as Chifuyu stood panting, his leg trembling slightly.

He grabbed Kazutora by the collar, yanked him up, and punched him hard across the jaw.

“You bastard!!” Chifuyu shouted, voice trembling with rage. “What the hell were you thinking?! Stabbing Baji-san?!”

Kazutora didn’t answer. His eyes were wide. Blank.

Chifuyu’s vision wavered slightly from the pain in his leg, but his grip stayed firm.

“He’s your friend, dammit!”

“Baji…” Kazutora’s voice came out in a hoarse whisper. His eyes were wide, empty, like he wasn’t truly present. Then, his jaw clenched. “It’s his fault…”

Chifuyu’s eyes narrowed, fury bubbling under his skin. “You bastard,” he spat, and shoved Kazutora back hard. The other boy stumbled, eyes flickering with something between guilt and madness.

“Baji-san?!” Chifuyu turned, voice sharp with concern.

But Baji didn’t look at Kazutora. He didn’t even glance at the knife on the ground. His gaze locked onto Takemichi. “I’m going to defeat Kisaki,” he said, voice low and unwavering. “So shut up and watch, Takemichi.”

Then he turned to Chifuyu. His tone softened—just slightly. “You stand down, Chifuyu.”

Chifuyu stiffened, wounded by the cold distance in Baji’s eyes.

But before he could answer, Takemichi stepped forward, fists clenched. “I’m going to crush Kisaki and become the top member of Toman!” he declared, meeting Baji’s eyes with fire of his own.

Chifuyu blinked, startled by Takemichi’s resolve. Then he gave a small nod. “Yes. Please… let us fight alongside you.”

Baji stared at them for a long second—then suddenly stepped forward and slugged Takemichi in the face. The boy reeled back, shocked.

Without a pause, Baji spun and kicked Chifuyu hard in the side, sending him staggering.

“Don’t get in my way,” Baji said coldly, already turning toward the chaos.

Takemichi slammed into the ground with a sharp cry, dust rising around him as he clutched his bruised cheek. Pain bloomed hot across his face, but it was nothing compared to the ache in his heart. He looked up, wide-eyed, lips trembling.

“Baji-kun…” he breathed, voice barely a whisper, as if saying the name hurt.

Across from him, Chifuyu stumbled back, the brutal kick to his side knocking the wind clean out of him. He staggered, one hand gripping his ribs, the other curled into a tight fist at his side. But it wasn’t the blow that left him gasping.

It was the way Baji had looked at him. The way he’d said it.

“Don’t get in my way.”

So cold. So unlike the Baji he knew.

Chifuyu stood frozen, shoulders tense. His bangs fell across his eyes, hiding the emotion that twisted his face—grief, confusion, heartbreak. His voice came out hoarse.

“Why…?” he whispered, chest rising and falling rapidly. “Why won’t you let us fight beside you?”

Takemichi groaned, slowly pushing himself up on shaky arms. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, but his gaze had hardened.

“He’s trying to protect us,” he muttered, breathing heavy. “He’s pushing us away on purpose… because he’s planning something. Something dangerous.”

Chifuyu’s eyes widened slightly, then narrowed with grim understanding. “He wants to bear everything alone…”

They both turned to look up.

Baji was already walking, his figure cutting through the chaos like a blade. His steps were steady, calculated, his body weaving between unconscious Valhalla members and scattered debris like a beast on the hunt. The wind caught the ends of his coat, fluttering it behind him like a banner of war.

As he passed Takemichi, he didn’t even look down. But his voice, low and distant, drifted out like a final request.

“Take care of Mikey for me.”

Takemichi’s eyes widened. “Wait—what…?”

Chifuyu took a half step forward. “Why are you in such a hurry, Baji-san?!” he called out, panic rising in his throat.

Baji didn’t answer.

Instead, he lifted his hand, yanking his long hair into a tight ponytail, eyes dark and focused. His fingers slid over the cool metal of the crowbar he’d dropped earlier. The moment it was in his grip, the air around him seemed to shift.

A wild, unrelenting grin stretched across his bloodied face.

“Well then,” he growled, voice sharp with adrenaline, “Fifty guys from the 3rd Squad… versus me.”

He rolled his shoulders once, crowbar raised.

“Bring it the hell on!”

And with that, Baji launched himself forward, charging straight into the wave of Toman soldiers like a man with nothing left to lose.

Takemichi stood frozen, eyes wide as Baji became a blur of motion.

"He's really... taking them all on," he breathed, stunned.

The first Toman boy lunged—Baji dodged low, crowbar slamming into his gut with a crack that echoed across the battlefield. Another rushed in from the side. Baji twisted mid-step, elbowed him in the throat, and drove his boot into the next guy’s chest. They fell like dominoes.

One by one. Two by two. They came at him in waves—and Baji broke them all.

Chifuyu watched, breath caught in his throat. His bruised ribs ached with every breath, but he couldn’t look away. His fist tightened, and his voice came out soft, almost reverent.

“…That’s Baji-san.”

His captain, his best friend, still standing tall even after everything. Fighting alone against impossible odds—and winning.

Takemichi stumbled to his feet, dazed, heart thundering. He could barely believe what he was seeing. Baji wasn’t just strong—he was relentless. Every swing of his crowbar was precise. Every dodge was instinctual. He was a storm tearing through the ranks of their own gang, not hesitating even for a second.

The battlefield became quiet in the aftermath of chaos. Broken groans, fallen bodies. One by one, the members of the 3rd squad crumpled at Baji’s feet, unconscious or too injured to move.

Only one remained.

Kisaki.

He stood at the top of the wrecked car stack, arms crossed, glasses cracked, expression unreadable.

Baji slowly raised his head, blood dripping from a gash on his temple. His chest heaved with every breath, but his eyes were sharp, locked onto Kisaki like a predator cornering its prey.

All around them, the noise faded. Even Valhalla had gone quiet, their cheers dying into stunned silence.

Takemichi could barely speak. “He did it… He took down all fifty of them…”

Chifuyu nodded silently, lips tight.

And now, only the true target remained.

"Checkmate," Baji mumbled, voice low and rough as he pressed the cold metal of the crowbar against Kisaki's throat.

Kisaki’s breath hitched. He tried to keep his usual smug calm, but the subtle tremble in his jaw betrayed him. Blood trickled from his brow, dripping onto his broken glasses at his feet. His fingers twitched slightly—calculating, like always—but there was nowhere left to run. Nowhere left to manipulate.

"Huh… You really did it," Kisaki grunted, his voice tight. He swallowed hard, the crowbar pushing into his skin just enough to leave a mark. "You actually made it this far, Baji."

Silence swallowed the garage. Even the groans of the fallen were drowned out by the tension crackling in the air.

Takemichi held his breath.

Chifuyu stood frozen, torn between awe and dread.

Baji stared down Kisaki with eyes like burning coal. “This is for everything. For what you did to Pah, for what you’re planning with Valhalla. For trying to tear apart Toman from the inside.”

Kisaki didn’t flinch. “And what?” he sneered, blood running down the corner of his mouth. “You think taking me down here will stop the gears already in motion?”

Baji’s expression darkened. "I’m not stupid enough to think that killing you’ll fix everything."

His grip on the crowbar tightened.

“But I can make damn sure you don’t hurt anyone else again.”

Then, a blur—

“BAJI-KUN!!!”

Takemichi’s scream came too late.

A sickening crack rang out as a figure barreled into Baji from behind.

Kazutora.

The knife.

Baji gasped, the crowbar slipping from his fingers as blood splattered the ground.

Time stopped.

“Baji-san…?”

Chifuyu's voice was barely a whisper, cracked and trembling.

Baji staggered forward, clutching his side, his white shirt blooming red. He didn’t scream. He didn’t cry. He just turned his head slowly, as if even that was exhausting.

Kazutora stood behind him, face pale, hand still clutching the hilt of the blade.

“I-I had to,” he whispered. “You were going to kill Kisaki. You would’ve destroyed everything. You… you left me…”

Chifuyu fell to his knees, breath gone from his lungs. “No. No, no—Baji-san…”

Baji looked down, blood dripping from his lips. He turned one last glare to Kisaki—who had already stepped back into the shadows, untouched, smirking faintly.

Then Baji fell to his knees.

Then to the ground.

And everything else shattered.

"Fuck!! You asshole, Kazutora!!" Chifuyu screamed, voice cracking as it echoed through the bloodstained garage. He charged forward and slammed his fists against Kazutora’s chest. “I fucking kicked the knife out of you to make you stop—to make you think—and you still did it?!” His voice broke into a roar, raw and shaking with grief.

Kazutora didn’t defend himself. He just stood there, wide-eyed, trembling, looking down at the blood coating his hand. “I… I didn’t mean to—he was—he was gonna ruin everything…”

“You stabbed him!” Chifuyu’s fists pounded against him again. “You stabbed Baji-san!”

Takemichi dropped beside Baji, hands trembling as he lifted the boy into his arms. “Baji-kun—Baji-kun, stay with me, okay?! Hey!!” His voice wavered, eyes wide as he pressed his hands against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. But there was so much of it. Too much.

Baji coughed, blood splattering onto his lips. “T-Takemichi…” he muttered, barely above a whisper.

“Don’t talk!” Takemichi pleaded, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Help is coming! You’re gonna be okay, just—just hang on, okay?! Please!!”

Chifuyu knelt beside them, one hand shaking as it brushed Baji’s blood-matted hair from his face. “You idiot… Why didn’t you dodge…?”

Baji blinked up at them, struggling to breathe. “I didn’t think… he’d actually do it…”

“You always put everything on your own shoulders,” Chifuyu whispered. “Why didn’t you just let us help you…?”

Then a new voice broke the stillness.

“Kazutora.”

Mikey.

He stood at the edge of the wreckage, silent, his expression unreadable. Blood still streaked his skin, his breath unsteady—but his eyes were razor-sharp.

Kazutora turned, eyes full of panic. “Mikey, wait—I didn’t mean to! I was just—he was—he tried to kill Kisaki! He left me behind—!”

But Mikey was already walking. Each step slow. Measured. Final.

“You killed him…”

“No, I—I had to—he—he left me!” Kazutora backed away.

“You stabbed Baji.”

The words were quiet, but they hit harder than any blow.

Mikey’s fist shot forward, and Kazutora flew back, slamming into the metal of a car door. The clang rang through the air like a funeral bell.

Takemichi tried to speak—tried to stop it—but the fury in Mikey’s eyes swallowed the world.

“You killed my brother.”

And the storm broke loose.

Mikey’s fist cracked against Kazutora’s jaw, sending him collapsing to the ground. But he didn’t stop. Mikey’s face was blank, his eyes dark—no longer the boy his friends knew. He raised his fist again.

“Mikey, stop!!” Takemichi cried out, voice desperate. “You’ll kill him!”

But Mikey couldn’t hear. His rage had consumed him.

Sirens wailed in the distance—an ambulance, police cars—growing louder by the second. The chaos around them slowed as all eyes turned to Mikey, whose knuckles were already stained with blood.

Then—

A bloody cough echoed.

Baji stood up.

Everyone froze.

His legs trembled, blood pouring from his side, but he staggered forward—toward Mikey. “That’s enough…” he wheezed. His voice was faint but sharp like glass.

“Baji…?!” Mikey spun around, stunned.

Takemichi and Chifuyu both shouted in horror as Baji suddenly gripped the crowbar for balance—and with a shaky breath, he grabbed a knife from his pocket and stabbed himself again.

“BAJI!!!”

Blood spurted from his gut, splattering onto the gravel as he sank to his knees. His face was pale, but his eyes locked with Mikey’s, fierce and pleading.

“You… didn’t see anything, Mikey,” he said, coughing blood. “Kazutora didn’t stab me.”

“What…?” Mikey stepped back, eyes wide with disbelief. “What the hell are you saying—?!”

“I stabbed myself… so you wouldn’t have to carry that hate,” Baji rasped. “You’ve already lost too much, Mikey. I couldn’t let you lose yourself too.”

He swayed, and Chifuyu rushed to catch him from behind, tears spilling. “Baji-san—why?! Why would you go this far?!”

Baji smiled weakly. “Because I had to… fix what I broke.”

Takemichi knelt beside him, cradling Baji’s head. “Fix what…?”

Baji’s fingers curled into Takemichi’s sleeve. “Kisaki… He told Mikey that night… ‘I’ll get Pah out of prison. In exchange… make me the 3rd squad captain.’ That’s how this all started.”

Chifuyu’s eyes widened. “You knew?”

Baji nodded faintly. “Kisaki is not our 3rd Squad Captain! Toman was formed by the six os us... Pah is the only captain of the 3rd squad!”

He looked at Mikey, blood dripping from his mouth. “So don’t hate Kazutora… Hate me. I’m the one who let it come to this…”

“Baji—stop talking! Please!!” Takemichi pleaded.

Baji turned his head slowly, looking at Chifuyu. His lips moved in the barest whisper. 

“Chifuyu…” Baji croaked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Chifuyu leaned in, his hands trembling as he held Baji’s head gently. “Yeah?”

“I’d kill for some Peyoung right now…” Baji said with a weak chuckle, his bloodied lips barely curling into a smirk.

Chifuyu froze. His breath hitched painfully in his throat. “I’ll buy you some,” he promised, voice cracking.

“We’ll… split it, right?” Baji asked, his eyes half-lidded, but there was a boyish glint there—a memory of simpler days, of laughter and trash talk over instant noodles.

Chifuyu couldn’t stop the tears that poured down his cheeks. He nodded frantically, clutching Baji’s shirt like a lifeline. “Y-Yeah. Half and half. Like always.”

Baji smiled—soft, content, like he was finally at peace. “Thank you… Chifuyu…”

And then he went still.

The sirens were close now—blaring, growing louder. Red and blue lights painted streaks across the wreckage. Paramedics shouted orders as they rushed in, but to Chifuyu, the world had fallen completely silent.

Takemichi staggered beside him, numb.

Most of the delinquents had already scattered like rats. The cops were closing in. Draken pulled Mikey by the arm, trying to get him to move.

But Mikey stood frozen.

His eyes were locked on the small, worn charm sticking out of Baji’s jacket pocket—the one they had given him back when they first formed Toman. His fingers curled into fists.

“…He kept it?” Mikey whispered.

Draken swallowed hard. “Mikey, we need to move.”

Mikey finally tore his gaze away. He turned, and without a word, ran with the others into the night.

Kazutora remained behind. Kneeling beside Baji’s body, his face blank, broken.

“I’ll stay,” he said, voice hollow. “It’s the least I can do. After what I did…”

Chifuyu stood slowly, wincing as pain flared up his leg, but his gaze never left Baji.

“No,” he said firmly. “I’m staying too.”

Kazutora blinked at him.

“I’ll wait with him… I promised I’d protect him.” His hands clenched into fists. “I won’t leave him alone.”

He gently pressed two fingers to Baji’s neck.

The pulse was faint.

But it was there.

“…He’s still alive,” Chifuyu breathed, eyes wide.

The paramedics were almost upon them now.

“He’s still alive!!” he shouted, standing up and waving frantically. “Over here! Please save him!!”

Chapter Text

The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, casting a sterile glow across the emergency room. It smelled of antiseptic, sharp and clean—so unlike the battlefield they had come from. Chifuyu sat on the hard plastic chair outside the operating room, his shirt stiff with dried blood, his leg throbbing from the cut he’d ignored. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

A nurse had given him a blanket and a bottle of water. Neither helped.

He stared at the red “In Surgery” light above the door, willing it to go off, praying that Baji would still be breathing when it did.

He could still hear his voice—“We’ll split it, right?”—as if Baji had whispered it into his ear just a second ago.

The door finally slid open.

A doctor stepped out, removing his mask. Chifuyu shot to his feet.

“He’s stable,” the doctor said, eyes kind but tired. “He lost a lot of blood, and the wound was deep. But... he’s alive.”

Chifuyu nearly collapsed.

“Can I… see him?”

“Just for a moment. He’s sleeping.”

---

Inside the recovery room, it was quiet.

Baji lay on the hospital bed, wrapped in fresh bandages, a mask resting over his nose to help him breathe. His skin was pale, and his chest rose and fell in slow, measured breaths.

Chifuyu approached carefully, as if afraid to wake him. His throat tightened at the sight. Baji was alive. Still here.

He pulled the chair closer to the bed and sat down heavily, eyes never leaving his friend’s face.

“I filled out everything,” he murmured, as if Baji could hear. “Told them exactly what happened.”

He swallowed hard. “Kazutora confessed. Told them he stabbed you… even though you tried to cover for him. Said he had to own up to it. He’s... in custody now.”

He sighed, wiping his face with his sleeve. “You idiot. Why’d you stab yourself just to protect him? You think that’s what we wanted?”

Baji didn’t answer. Just kept breathing, steady and quiet.

“…But I get it,” Chifuyu whispered, voice cracking. “You were trying to protect all of us. Even if it meant taking all the blame.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the edge of the bed.

“You always do that. Carry everything alone.”

The monitors beeped softly. Baji’s fingers twitched.

Chifuyu’s eyes widened, and he stood up quickly.

“Oi… Baji-san? Can you hear me?” he asked gently.

No response. But he was breathing. That was enough for now.

Chifuyu sat back down and placed his hand over Baji’s.

“I'll become stronger, so that you'll no longer hide your burdens,” he promised. “You’re not alone anymore.”

---

The hospital hallway was unnaturally quiet, as if the world itself was holding its breath.

Footsteps echoed faintly down the corridor—light, measured, but unmistakable. Chifuyu, half-asleep in the chair beside Baji’s bed, blinked awake. He looked up toward the door just as it creaked open.

Mikey stepped in.

His black jacket was stained and scuffed, his knuckles scraped raw. His expression was unreadable—too calm. Too still. Like the surface of water just before it boils.

He stopped a few steps into the room. His eyes locked onto Baji.

“…He looks like shit,” Mikey murmured.

Chifuyu stood, unsure whether to speak. “He made it. Barely. They said if it was a minute later—”

“I know,” Mikey interrupted softly. “I heard.”

He walked closer, hands in his pockets, eyes fixed on the steady rise and fall of Baji’s chest.

Chifuyu watched him in silence. This wasn’t the invincible Mikey everyone feared. This was the boy beneath the legend—Mikey, the friend.

“…Why’d he do it?” Mikey asked quietly. “Why cover for Kazutora?”

Chifuyu swallowed. “He didn’t want you to hate him more. He thought… if he took the blame, maybe you’d forgive Kazutora one day.”

Mikey flinched almost imperceptibly.

“He said it himself,” Chifuyu added, voice thick. “‘Take care of Mikey for me.’ That’s what he said before taking on the entire third squad. He still believed in you… even when he knew he might die.”

The silence that followed was heavy.

Mikey stepped up to the bed and slowly reached into his pocket. When he pulled his hand out, he was holding a small, frayed charm—the one Baji had kept hidden in his jacket.

“…He still had it,” Mikey murmured, fingers trembling as he placed the charm on the nightstand beside Baji.

“That day… when we made that promise to protect Toman together. He never let it go.”

Chifuyu looked down, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from crying again.

Mikey sat in the chair Chifuyu had vacated, leaning forward so his forehead rested on the edge of the bed, just beside Baji’s hand.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t listen to you. I let all of this happen.”

Baji didn’t stir. But the monitors beeped steadily, as if in answer.

Mikey shut his eyes. His voice cracked for the first time “Come back soon… okay? I can’t do this without you.”

"Mikey"

Mikey blinked, caught off guard by the tremble in Chifuyu’s voice.

“Can I… talk to you for a moment..?” he asked, almost too quiet.

Mikey didn’t say anything for a long moment. Finally, he nodded, just once. “Okay,” he said simply.

---

Several days later.

The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor had become background noise — steady, unchanging. Mikey sat slouched in the chair nearest the hospital bed, arms crossed, his eyes half-lidded but sharp. Draken stood by the door, tall and quiet, a shadow of steady strength. Takemichi and Mitsuya sat on the other side of the bed, both watching Baji like he might vanish if they blinked.

It had been days.

Takemichi leaned forward, chin in his hands. “I keep thinking he’ll wake up any second now,” he murmured. “He’s breathing, his vitals are stable, but…”

“But he’s not Baji unless he’s yelling at us for being dumbasses,” Mitsuya said softly, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

The room fell into another silence, heavy and waiting.

Then — a twitch.

A finger. Just a small flicker of motion.

Mikey’s eyes snapped open. “Did you see that?” he whispered, straightening in his chair.

Takemichi stumbled to his feet, nearly knocking over the stool. “H-He moved! I saw it!”

Baji’s brow furrowed. His eyelids fluttered.

“…ugh…” A hoarse sound escaped his throat, like a growl at first, rough and dry.

“Baji?” Draken stepped forward now, voice low but firm. “Can you hear us?”

Baji groaned, shifting slightly against the mattress. His eyes cracked open slowly — dark and unfocused, then narrowing in confusion.

“Mikey…?” His voice was barely audible, dry like sandpaper.

Mikey leaned forward, his eyes filled with something raw. “Yeah, I’m here.”

Baji blinked, expression groggy but growing sharper. “Where…? The fight— Kazutora—”

“Don’t move,” Mitsuya said quickly, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’re in the hospital. You're safe.”

“You nearly died, dumbass,” Draken added, but his voice was thick with relief.

“Chifuyu…?” Baji’s gaze darted around the room, unfocused. “Where’s Chifuyu?”

The room went still.

Takemichi glanced at Mikey, then down at the floor. Mikey stood slowly and crossed the space to Baji’s side, eyes unreadable.

“He’s not here,” Mikey said softly.

Baji frowned, clearly confused. “Why not? Is he—?”

“He’s okay. Physically, at least,” Takemichi rushed to reassure. “He made sure you got to the hospital in time. He fought like hell to save you.”

“But he left,” Mikey said bluntly, folding his arms. “Said he didn’t want you to wake up and see a reminder of what happened.”

“…Idiot,” Baji muttered, closing his eyes again, as if the effort of being awake had already exhausted him. “He really ran off? Just like that?”

“He said he’d come back when he’s stronger,” Takemichi murmured. “Said he wanted to protect you better next time.”

Baji was quiet for a long time. His chest rose and fell, slow and measured.

Then he cracked one eye open, and though his face was pale and drawn, there was fire in his gaze.

“Next time he shows up,” Baji croaked, voice still hoarse, “I’m punching him in the face.”

Mikey barked a laugh, short and sharp. Draken grinned.

“Sounds like Baji’s back,” Mitsuya muttered, relief flooding his voice.

Takemichi wiped his eyes quickly. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he comes back.”

The rhythmic clatter of the train on the tracks filled the silence that followed. Outside the window, the city slowly blurred into distant fields and smaller towns, each station a step further from Tokyo—and from Baji.

Chifuyu leaned his forehead against the glass, the cool surface grounding him even as his chest ached with every passing second.

"Regretting it right now?"

Ren’s voice was calm but carried a weight only a cousin who truly knew him could bear. He sat across from Chifuyu, one arm slung over the back of the seat, eyes half-lidded, watching him carefully.

Chifuyu didn’t answer right away. His fingers tightened on his thighs, knuckles whitening.

"I already thought about it… there’s no going back," he mumbled, but even as he said the words, his reflection in the window frowned back at him.

Ren raised an eyebrow. “You say that like you’re proud of it. But you look like a guy who just left his soul back in Tokyo.”

Chifuyu let out a breath. “I didn’t leave it behind,” he said. “I gave it to someone. And now I’m trying to figure out who I am without him.”

“Baji, huh?” Ren said softly.

Chifuyu didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

“You could’ve waited. Let him wake up, let him see you were still there.”

“I couldn’t,” Chifuyu whispered. “He nearly died. And I couldn’t stop him. Every time I see him like that, unconscious and hooked to machines, I feel like I failed.”

Ren sighed. “You think running away’s gonna fix that?”

“I’m not running.” Chifuyu looked at him, eyes sharper now. “I’m trying to find myself again. Maybe that means being somewhere else. Maybe that means meeting new people, getting stronger. I don’t know. But I couldn’t just sit in that hospital and watch him fade in and out while doing nothing.”

Ren studied him, then nodded slowly. “Alright. Then let’s see what Furin's got for you.”

Chifuyu turned back to the window, eyes tracing the outline of the distant mountains.

In his chest, the pain remained—but for the first time, he was letting it breathe.

As they stepped onto the familiar streets of Makochi, Chifuyu could feel the weight of the air shift, the tension thickening with every step. The streets seemed to hum with a quiet energy, the kind that only a place like Furin High could bring—where every corner held a memory, a challenge, a reminder of what had been lost and what had been gained.

Ren kept pace beside him, his presence solid and unwavering, though Chifuyu could sense the subtle unease in him, too. They walked in silence toward the school’s imposing gates, and as they neared the entrance, the crowd parted like water before a ship, all heads turning toward the figure waiting for them.

There he was—Umemiya Hajime.

With his striking white hair slicked back, blue eyes gleaming with mischief, and the scar over his brow giving him just enough edge to keep people wary, he leaned lazily against the school gate like he didn’t have a care in the world. Dressed in the extended dark green uniform of Furin’s top brass, cuffs rolled up casually and the white shirt beneath untucked at the waist, he looked more like a punk king than the head of one of the most feared school factions.

When his gaze landed on Chifuyu, he lit up—not with menace, but with a grin so wide it nearly split his face.

“Oi oi, look what the train dragged back!” Umemiya called out, pushing off the gate and spreading his arms like he was welcoming a long-lost brother. “Fuyu-chin! You missed me, huh?”

Chifuyu blinked. That... was not the reception he’d prepared himself for.

Before he could react, Umemiya was already beside him, slinging an arm around Chifuyu’s shoulder with the ease of someone who had no sense of personal space—or just didn’t care. “Man, it’s been what, a year? Half a year? Time’s weird when you’re ruling the underworld of high school politics.” He winked at Ren. “Yo, Ren-kun. You finally convinced our prince of stoicism to come back?”

Ren raised an eyebrow, but didn’t speak. He knew better than to get pulled into Hajime’s playful rhythm.

Chifuyu cleared his throat. “I’m not here for nostalgia.”

“I know, I know,” Umemiya said breezily, ruffling Chifuyu’s hair like they were old pals, even if the last time they saw each other had ended with blood on the pavement. “You’re here for business. Power moves. Revenge, maybe?” He squinted dramatically. “No, wait—heartbreak! It’s heartbreak, isn’t it?”

“Umemiya-san—” Chifuyu started, his voice low.

But Hajime just laughed, stepping back and holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll behave.” He smiled again—genuine, yet always carrying something unreadable behind it. “Still, you’re back. That’s enough for me. Whatever happened out there… you’re home now, yeah?”

There was a pause, long and thick with the weight of things unspoken.

Then Chifuyu nodded once, slowly. “Yeah. I guess I am.”

Umemiya's grin softened. “Good. Now come on, I’ll show you to the usual hangout spot. You look like you haven’t had a decent lunch in days. And I’ve got so much gossip to catch you up on. Did you know two of the first-years tried to fight each other? In first day of school?”

Ren gave Chifuyu a sidelong glance, but Chifuyu simply sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little as he followed Umemiya into the school grounds.

Maybe this wouldn't be easy. But with Umemiya being… well, Umemiya—it might not be as unbearable as he thought.

---

Day before Baji's awake, the talk

The hospital room was quiet, the sterile hush broken only by the soft, rhythmic beep of the heart monitor. Dim lighting pooled above the bed, casting long shadows over the pale form lying beneath the thin blanket. Baji’s chest rose and fell with faint effort, his face unnaturally still—serene in a way that didn’t suit him.

Chifuyu didn’t blink. Didn’t speak. He just watched, as if staring hard enough could wake Baji up. His hand hovered inches from Baji’s, but he didn’t touch—afraid it might feel like saying goodbye.

Across the room, Mikey stood near the window, his silhouette outlined by the flickering streetlights outside. His hands were buried deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched. He hadn’t spoken in what felt like hours.

“…Can I talk to you for a minute, Mikey?” Chifuyu asked, voice low and hoarse from silence.

Mikey turned, gaze unreadable, and gave a quiet nod "Okay," Together, they slipped out into the hospital hallway.

The corridor was cold and silent, illuminated by the harsh glow of fluorescent lights that buzzed faintly above. It smelled faintly of antiseptic and something heavier—grief that lingered like cigarette smoke.

Chifuyu stopped by a vending machine, not even glancing at it. He stared at the floor, fists clenched at his sides, knuckles pale.

“I should’ve stopped him,” he said, barely louder than a whisper. “I knew. I knew he was planning something. That he was carrying it all on his own again. But I… I let him go through with it.”

Mikey said nothing, just listened, letting Chifuyu unravel.

“I kicked the knife away from Kazutora,” Chifuyu continued, voice cracking now, trembling with guilt. “I thought I stopped it. I thought… I thought it was enough. But Baji still—” He choked on the words, lips pressing together hard. “He still stabbed himself. Because he didn’t want you to bear that blood. Because he wanted to protect all of us.”

His voice dropped. “I couldn’t stop him. I couldn’t save him.”

Mikey’s voice was soft when he finally spoke. “You did save him.”

Chifuyu looked up, eyes red. “What?”

“If you hadn’t acted, he wouldn’t be alive right now,” Mikey said, his voice oddly gentle. “You got him to the hospital. You kept Kazutora from crossing a line he couldn’t come back from. You gave him a chance.”

Chifuyu shook his head. “It wasn’t enough.”

There was a beat of silence, and then, more firmly, he said, “I’m stepping down as Vice-Captain.”

Mikey’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re what?”

“I’ll hand the position over to Takemichi. He’s the one who tried so hard to save Baji from the start. And… when Baji wakes up, I don’t want to be there. I don’t want him to look at me and remember that night. He needs peace—not a constant reminder of what happened.”

Mikey’s jaw tightened. He looked at Chifuyu long and hard, like he was trying to memorize the lines of a decision he couldn’t change.

“You’re wrong,” Mikey said at last. “You stayed when none of us knew what to do. You were always the one at his side.”

Chifuyu gave a weak smile—bitter and tired. “Still… I’ve made my decision.”

He turned to walk away, boots heavy against the linoleum.

He hesitated, just once, and glanced back. “If he wakes up… tell him I’m sorry. And tell him…” Chifuyu’s voice faltered, then steadied. “Tell him I meant it. I would’ve split the Peyoung with him.”

He didn’t wait for a response, just walked down the hallway—each step heavier than the last.

Then Mikey’s voice echoed after him.

“We’ll wait for you.”

Chifuyu froze in his tracks.

“Toman. Everyone. And hell, Baji too—we’ll wait for your return,” Mikey said, steady and resolute, his eyes glinting beneath the fluorescent lights.

Chifuyu didn’t look back. He simply stood there, shoulders tense, heart hammering.

And then—silently—he kept walking, vanishing into the hallway’s dimness, leaving Mikey standing alone in the pale hospital light.

A Few days later

The wind in Makochi had a bite to it—sharp, clean, and honest. Chifuyu sat on the rooftop of Furin High, his back against the rusting fence, a half-eaten melonpan in one hand and his phone dark in the other. No new messages. Not from Toman. Not from Baji.

Below, the chaos of the school continued as if untouched by the storm in his heart. Laughter, shouts, footsteps—Furin was always alive. But here on the rooftop, it felt like a separate world. Isolated. Still.

He sighed and leaned his head back, eyes closed, the sky a blur of grey and fading blue above him. Ren had told him to rest, to take it easy. But peace was a distant concept when his chest was heavy with regret, and his thoughts spun like blades.

"Still not sleeping, huh?" came Umemiya Hajime's voice behind him.

Chifuyu didn’t turn. "I don’t need sleep. I need peace."

Umemiya whistled low, dropping down beside him with a can of soda in hand. "That’s worse, y'know. Sleep you can fake. Peace? That stuff needs time."

They sat in silence for a while. The breeze tousled their hair. Far below, first-years were being herded by upperclassmen, a scuffle breaking out near the vending machines. Umemiya didn't press. He never did. And Chifuyu appreciated that in ways he couldn't say.

"I saw the news," Umemiya said eventually. "Valhalla. Bloody Halloween. You were there."

Chifuyu's jaw tightened. "Yeah."

"And the guy?"

Silence. A crow passed overhead.

"Alive," Chifuyu said eventually. "But barely."

"You left him."

Chifuyu finally turned to meet Umemiya's eyes. "I had to. I needed to breathe. To think. I couldn’t stay there, not after everything."

Umemiya nodded slowly, not judging. "You running away?"

Chifuyu looked down at his bruised hands. "Maybe. But not forever. Just long enough to find out who I am without him. Without Toman."

---

Meanwhile, back in Tokyo

The hospital garden was quiet except for the soft burble of a koi pond. Baji sat hunched in a wheelchair, one arm in a sling, the other holding a can of lukewarm tea. The air smelled of antiseptic and late autumn.

He looked pale, thinner than before, eyes still ringed with healing bruises. Yet the fire in them hadn’t dimmed. If anything, it burned more silently.

"You’re healing fast," Mitsuya said as he walked over, holding another tea.

Baji accepted it without thanks. "Did he say anything?"

Mitsuya hesitated. "Chifuyu? No. Not directly. He just... left."

"Figures."

"But he left this at your mom," Mitsuya added, pulling a small, crumpled note from his pocket. He held it out.

Baji stared at it. The handwriting was familiar. Sharp, precise.

"I’ll protect you from afar this time. Don’t look for me. —Chifuyu"

The paper trembled slightly in his hand.

"That idiot..." Baji muttered, pressing the note to his forehead. "He always does this."

---

Back in Makochi

The night sky was clear, a spray of stars scattered across the black. Chifuyu stood outside the Furin Buildings, leaning against the wall.

Ren appeared beside him, tossing a pack of Pocky into Chifuyu’s lap.

"You ever gonna go back?"

Chifuyu didn’t answer right away. "I don’t know if I can."

"You stepped down, not vanished. He’ll be waiting, you know."

Chifuyu gave a bitter laugh. "Yeah. That’s the problem."

They stood in silence, air curling around them.

"You think this place will fix you?" Ren asked.

"No," Chifuyu said. "But maybe it’ll help me find the pieces."

Far above them, a window opened. Umemiya leaned out, waving a convenience store bag.

"I got Peyoung!" he called cheerfully. "Come up before it gets soggy, Fuyu-chin!"

Chifuyu looked up, the corners of his mouth twitching.

Maybe he hadn’t come here to forget. Maybe he came to remember who he was before everything went to hell.

Maybe that was enough.

For now.

Next day

The wind carried a quiet chill through Makochi as Chifuyu Matsuno sat on the school rooftop, overlooking the town that had become both his refuge and his exile. The faint sound of people's shouting below mingled with the rustle of wind against the chain-link fence, but his mind was elsewhere. He gripped the edge of the bench with white knuckles, his leg wrapped tightly with gauze beneath his slacks. It throbbed dully, a reminder of what he’d kicked away—and what he’d left behind.

Umemiya Hajime stepped up beside him, dropping a can of cola between them without a word. He didn’t need to ask what Chifuyu was thinking. Instead, he sat and looked out at the horizon, slouched comfortably like this rooftop had always been his throne.

“You’ve been quiet lately,” Umemiya said after a while, cracking his can open with a hiss. “More than usual.”

Chifuyu didn’t look at him. “I didn’t come here to talk.”

“Too bad,” Umemiya grinned. “I did.”

The silence stretched, not quite comfortable but not hostile either. The Furin students below laughed, shouted, and argued—just like Toman had once done. But here, Chifuyu wasn’t a vice-captain. He wasn’t even a fighter anymore. Just another outsider trying to disappear.

“You know,” Umemiya continued, voice light but steady, “I always wondered what it’d take to break you. You were like steel when we first met. Cold, sharp, untouchable. But now?” He looked sideways. “You look like a sword that cracked itself in half.”

Chifuyu chuckled bitterly, finally meeting his eyes. “I left before it could finish breaking me.”

“From him?”

Chifuyu didn’t respond, but the answer hung heavy between them.

---

That night, Chifuyu lay on his back in the apartment, staring at the ceiling much like Baji had. The hum of the heater buzzed beside him. His phone sat dark on the desk across the room. No new messages.

He’d blocked every number from Tokyo before boarding that train. Except one.

He reached for the phone now, thumb hovering over the screen.

“Baji-san…” he whispered. But he didn’t dial.

Instead, he tucked the phone beneath his pillow and rolled over.

Outside, the streets of Makochi pulsed with life. Somewhere in Tokyo, Baji sat in a hospital room wishing for Peyoung and answers. And between them stretched a silence so thick, it could only be broken by time—or something stronger.

But for now, they stayed apart. For now, the wound needed space to heal.

Even if both hearts still bled for each other.

---

“Huh?” Chifuyu blinked at Takemichi, staring at him like he’d just watched him inhale a dozen bowls of ramen in one breath. “What do you mean… ‘came from the future’?”

The question came out flat, confused, almost accusatory.

They were standing behind the alley next to the convenience store, the flickering streetlamp casting a dim orange glow over them. The air was cool—quiet—too quiet. It was the night before Chifuyu would vanish, the night before he’d board that train to Makochi. And now Takemichi had called him out like this, with a look so serious it made Chifuyu’s skin crawl.

“Um… I mean…” Takemichi fumbled, scratching at the back of his neck, sweat dotting his temples despite the chill. His voice trembled as he started.

And then he told him everything.

The accident. The inexplicable return to the past. How he had joined Toman with one desperate mission: to save his girlfriend, Hina. That he could only jump twelve years back from the present. He told him about the betrayals. About Mikey. About Draken. About Kisaki—how deep his manipulation went. And finally... about Chifuyu. About his future.

About his death.

Takemichi’s voice cracked as he admitted it. That he hadn’t planned on telling anyone. That he didn’t know what consequences it might cause. But if there was one person he couldn’t keep it from—it was the one who believed in him when no one else did. The one who died for him in another world.

Chifuyu stared at him, unmoving. The silence between them stretched thin.

“So…” Chifuyu’s voice came out low. “I die in the future?”

Takemichi paled. “Kidding!” he suddenly yelped, flailing his arms. “I’m kidding! I’m just… totally joking, ha. Ha ha…”

Chifuyu didn’t respond right away. His eyes narrowed, focused, as though Takemichi’s face held a puzzle he was just now solving.

“Somehow,” Chifuyu said slowly, “I always kinda knew.”

Takemichi’s nervous laughter faded.

“There were… things about you that never added up,” Chifuyu continued. “You’d act all clumsy and pathetic one second, then come out with some insane gut move that no one else could pull. And sometimes… you just looked different. Like you were carrying the weight of something huge.”

Takemichi’s shoulders stiffened.

“That day before Bloody Halloween,” Chifuyu went on, a faint smile curling the edge of his mouth, “I overheard you tell Baji-san: Don’t die.” He let out a soft chuckle, but it was bitter. “I remember thinking, ‘What the hell is this guy talking about?’”

His expression sobered. “But now I get it. You knew. That’s why you were so desperate. That’s why you used my help.”

Chifuyu’s voice quieted. “You were trying to save him.”

Takemichi nodded, gaze lowered. “Yeah. I knew I couldn’t do it on my own. But I believed… you could.”

“Well…” Chifuyu shrugged, eyes softening. “In this present, he’s alive. Barely breathing—but he’s alive. That’s something, right?”

“Yeah…” Takemichi’s voice cracked, and he turned his head away as tears pooled in his eyes. “It’s more than I could’ve hoped for.”

Chifuyu’s expression turned resolute, brows drawn, mouth firm. “You look incredible, you know that?”

Takemichi blinked through his tears, caught off guard.

“You’ve been fighting all this time, all alone,” Chifuyu said, his tone sharp with admiration. “No one cheering for you. No one even knowing what you’re really doing. And still—you stood your ground. You never ran.”

He stepped closer, eyes glinting with quiet pride. “Be proud of yourself, Takemichi. Even if the results aren’t perfect. That doesn’t matter.”

Takemichi gasped softly, his chest aching as the tears broke free. He covered his face with a sleeve, trembling.

“Nobody saw you,” Chifuyu continued, his voice rough but steady. “But I see you. You fought. You bled. And you never gave up. I respect you for that, dude. A lot.”

Takemichi tried to laugh, but it broke apart with a sob. “So… you actually believe me? Even though all of that sounded like total bullshit?”

Chifuyu gave him a lopsided grin, eyes wet but shining. “Of course I do, dumbass.”

He held out a fist.

“We’re partners, right?”

Takemichi let out a breathless laugh and bumped his knuckles against Chifuyu’s.

“Yeah. Partners.”

---

“That future sounds shitty,” Chifuyu muttered, dragging out the word as he hunched over a steaming bowl of ramen. His chopsticks clattered as he slurped up the noodles with a frown. They were tucked into a quiet corner of a 24-hour ramen shop, its flickering neon sign buzzing above the window. The night outside was heavy, still, but inside—inside was warmth, and the weight of things unspoken.

He scooped up the bowl and shoved it toward Takemichi without looking. “You want some?”

Takemichi blinked, caught off guard, but took it with a quiet “Thanks,” resting it between his palms like it was something sacred.

“So… Kisaki kills me?” Chifuyu said casually, too casually, like he was talking about an exam score. “That’s so lame.”

Takemichi winced. “Yeah… it happened because… you were undercover. You were trying to leak info about Kisaki to the cops,” he explained quietly, watching the broth swirl in the bowl as if it held all the answers he didn’t have.

Chifuyu’s brows rose slightly. “Huh. That actually sounds like something I’d do…”

He leaned back, the wooden bench creaking under him as he stretched his arms. “So then, where’s Baji-san in all this? He’s still alive here, in this timeline.”

Takemichi hesitated. The spoon in his hand paused midair. “He’s… dead,” he said finally.

The words hit Chifuyu like a punch to the gut.

Takemichi kept going, voice rough. “Kisaki manipulated Mikey. Twisted him into… killing Baji-kun. It destroyed him, Chifuyu. And you—well, the future you didn’t take it lightly either.”

Chifuyu’s eyes widened, his jaw clenched. “What the hell—?!”

He slammed his palms on the counter, rattling the bowl, face contorted with fury. “Kisaki… I’ll kill him.”

The air thickened, heavy with rage.

Takemichi, still clutching his spoon, blinked up at him with wide eyes. “But… not right now,” he mumbled, quickly stuffing his mouth with noodles like it would keep him safe.

Chifuyu exhaled hard, slumping back into the seat. “Right… not now,” he echoed, though his hands were still trembling slightly with restrained anger.

He went quiet, staring at the table as his thoughts ran wild. Then he spoke again, voice low. “As the Third Division Captain, Kisaki’s got over a hundred men under his command. And then there’s the newly formed Sixth Division—made up of all those Valhalla guys. It’s not just numbers anymore… he’s got influence.”

He tapped his fingers on the wooden surface, lips pursed. “And us? You and me? Right now, we’re not exactly a ‘functioning unit.’ We’ve got loyalty, yeah—but that’s not enough. Not against that.”

Takemichi nodded slowly, the truth of it sitting bitter on his tongue. “That’s… a really big gap.”

Chifuyu glanced at him then, his expression softening.

But behind that softness was resolve.

He smiled—a small, thoughtful curve of his lips—and leaned forward slightly. “I’ve been thinking,” he said quietly, eyes fixed on Takemichi. “Thinking real hard.”

Takemichi looked up, confused. “About what?”

Chifuyu's gaze was calm, steady, and sure. “I’m going to hand over the position of First Division Vice-Captain. To you.”

The words landed like a brick.

Takemichi froze, blinking at him, ramen forgotten.

“W-What?” he stammered.

“You heard me,” Chifuyu said, his voice firm, but his smile still there, faint and bittersweet. “You're the one who’s been fighting all along, Takemichi. Maybe you didn’t throw the hardest punches or lead the biggest gang—but you changed the future. You tried to save everyone. And now, I’m going to help you do it—for real.”

Takemichi could only stare, stunned, as the weight of those words sank in.

Chifuyu meant it.

He wasn’t just passing the torch.

He was trusting him with everything.

“But what about you?” Takemichi asked, his voice cracking faintly in the quiet of the ramen shop.

Chifuyu didn’t look up right away. He simply stared at the empty bowl between them, a hand curled around his soda can, the fizz long gone. When he did answer, it was with a soft chuckle—dry, hollow, not laced with any humor.

“Me? I’ll protect you, Toman… and Baji-san,” he said, voice gentle but firm. Then he looked up at Takemichi and added, “But not from up close—just… from a distance.”

He laughed again, but it was brittle, like glass on the edge of cracking. Bittersweet. Pain dressed as humor.

Takemichi’s eyes widened. “You can still protect Baji-kun with me, Chifuyu!” he insisted, leaning forward. “We can do this together! You don’t have to go!”

Chifuyu shook his head, his smile soft and broken. “I’m weak, Takemichi,” he admitted quietly. “I couldn’t protect Baji-san when it mattered. His mom told me to keep him safe. She looked right at me, and I said I would. But I couldn’t.”

His voice grew quieter, as if the weight of the memory made it harder to breathe.

“…Ryusei could’ve done it. He was always better at this. At leading, at fighting… at being there when it counted.” Chifuyu’s gaze dropped to the table again. “Hell, even he would’ve been a better Vice-Captain for Baji-san than me. I wonder if that idiot’s doing alright...”

Takemichi tilted his head. Ryusei? He didn’t know the name, but the way Chifuyu spoke of him—like he was someone important, someone worthy—made Takemichi curious. Someday, he wanted to meet this person. But right now…

Chifuyu inhaled deeply, then sat up straighter, resolve settling into his features.

“That’s why I’m entrusting you with this, Takemichi,” he said. “The First Division. Baji-san. Mikey. Toman. I’m passing it all to you.”

Takemichi’s mouth parted in protest, but Chifuyu was already standing, slipping his hands into his jacket pockets.

“I’m going somewhere I can get stronger,” he said, eyes glowing with quiet fire. “When we meet again, Takemichi… that’s when I’ll be ready. That’s when I’ll know—I can protect them. Both of them.”

Takemichi blinked, stunned, as the words sank into him. His eyes welled up once again—his heart swelling with the pain of goodbye and the pressure of responsibility.

“Wh-Why are you always saying things like that…?” he choked out.

Chifuyu laughed again—this time lighter, realer, even if it carried a crack of emotion. “What, crying again? You’re such a crybaby,” he teased, reaching out to flick Takemichi’s forehead.

Takemichi sniffled, blinking back tears with a soft glare.

“We’ll meet again, don’t worry,” Chifuyu added with a grin, stepping back into the dim hallway of the ramen shop.

And with that, he turned away—shoulders squared, steps firm—but not without one final glance over his shoulder.

“Until then, partner.”

End of the Valhalla arc.

Chapter Text

It was supposed to be one day.

Just one peaceful day.

That’s all Nirei wanted. Was that really so much to ask?

Apparently, yes.

Nirei mentally screamed as a rough hand suddenly yanked him by the collar, his sneakers scraping against the pavement. A tall guy in a black jacket loomed over him, reeking of cheap cigarettes and hostility. Nirei’s eyes widened, his usual cheerful mask cracking into pure panic.

‘Okay. Okay, just shake him off. Just—’ He tried to pull back, but the guy’s grip was iron. ‘Why can’t I move?! His grip’s insane!’ Nirei cried internally, heart pounding in his chest like a trapped bird.

“What’s with you Furin brats always getting in the way, huh?!” the unknown thug barked, spittle flying as he shook Nirei like a ragdoll.

“W-W-Wait! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to bump into you, honest!!” Nirei squeaked, arms flailing in surrender. “It was an accident!! I swear I mean no harm!!!”

The guy scoffed, face contorting with suspicion. “No harm? Bullshit. You Furin punks always have some kinda motive. Think I don’t know how your school works?!”

Nirei squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for a punch—

—but it never came.

Instead, the sound of a thud cracked through the air like a whip.

The thug’s head snapped sideways as a sharp kick landed clean against his temple, sending him sprawling to the ground. Nirei blinked in shock, eyes adjusting to the new figure standing between him and danger.

A boy. Not much taller than Nirei. Definitely younger.

His hair was bright blond, short but scruffy, like he’d been too busy punching people to care about combing it. His sea-blue eyes were sharp, narrowed with a fury far too big for someone so small.

“You bastards picking on innocent bystanders now?” the boy growled, voice steady and low with anger. He glanced over his shoulder at Nirei, gaze softening just slightly. “You okay?”

“I—uh—yeah…?” Nirei mumbled, still clinging to his collar like it was a life vest.

The boy stepped closer, eyes briefly scanning the jacket Nirei wore — the distinct green of Furin High School.

‘A Furin uniform? He’s one of theirs? A first-year…?’ The Boy thought.

Chifuyu didn’t say anything, but something clicked in his head.

Nirei, for his part, stared at his savior in total awe and confusion. 'That wasn't Kaji-senpai?! But who the heck—why is he so cool?!'

The thug groaned and tried to get up, but Chifuyu kicked his knee out from under him without even blinking.

The boy turned down to the recovering gang member, who now looked more cautious than pissed.

“Get lost,” the blond snapped coldly. “Or I’ll let you taste the pavement again. And next time, I won’t hold back.”

The gang member growled but staggered away, nursing his jaw. He didn’t dare pick a second fight.

Once the alley emptied, silence fell.

Still sitting on the pavement, Nirei looked up at the strange guy who’d just saved his life. The boy didn’t look back. He just stood there, brushing invisible dust off his knuckles like it was just another day.

“…T-Thanks,” Nirei mumbled.

The boy gave a soft grunt, almost a nod. “Be careful who you bump into.”

Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “I’m Matsuno Chifuyu.”

Nirei blinked. “ Akihiko Nirei. First year.”

“…Fitting.”

“Huh?”

“You’re jumpy like a stray kitten.”

Nirei’s mouth opened to protest, but then he caught Chifuyu’s small, amused smirk.

Chifuyu stared down at the boy still crouched on the pavement, brushing dirt off his scraped knees with trembling fingers. His blonde hair was short and messy, like he’d rolled out of bed and forgot to fix it — or just didn’t care. His dark brown eyes were wide, darting between Chifuyu and the retreating thug like a startled animal.

A stray cat.

That was the first thing that came to Chifuyu’s mind.

He liked cats. Always had. And this one? This boy — with his oversized jacket, his nervous little flinch, the way he froze the second Chifuyu’s gaze landed on him — he looked just like one of those timid cats that wandered the back alleys of Tokyo. The kind that would crouch under a bush when someone walked by, then peek out with cautious eyes as soon as your back was turned.

‘Cute,’ Chifuyu thought before he could stop himself.

He stepped closer out of instinct, just a small movement — but it made the boy stiffen again, like he was ready to bolt. Chifuyu blinked.

‘Yup. Total scaredy cat.’

There was something oddly familiar about him. The nervous expression… the wide, honest eyes…

Takemichi?

No. Not quite. This kid had neater eyebrows, and his hair wasn’t as—well, weird.

‘Sorry, partner,’ Chifuyu thought with a smirk, ‘but your hair looks like instant noodles.’

The boy still hadn’t spoken. His mouth opened a few times, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t get it past his throat.

“You go to Furin?” Chifuyu asked, finally, breaking the silence. He tugged lightly on the hem of the green jacket the boy wore — it was just a bit too big on him, sleeves nearly swallowing his hands.

“Y-Yeah…” the boy mumbled, shoulders twitching slightly.

Chifuyu grinned. “Great. Can’t wait to see you there.”

He gave a lazy wave like it was just another casual afternoon.

The boy blinked up at him, eyes following, a dazed kind of confusion painted across his face. He slowly lifted his hand and waved back, though it looked more like a reflex than anything.

‘Can’t wait to see me there…? Wait— is he a new student?!’

Nirei’s thoughts scrambled in panic.

What he didn’t know — what he couldn’t have known — was that Chifuyu Matsuno wasn’t a new Furin student.

He was still in middle school.

He just happened to be hanging around Furin’s building everyday.

But before Chifuyu could turn and walk away, something sharp cut through the air.

Instinct screamed first.

He ducked.

A foot sliced just past his ear—fast, close, and deliberate. Chifuyu pivoted on reflex, eyes narrowing as he met a flash of stark contrast: black and white hair, eyes of blue and gold, and a snarl to match both.

“Who the hell are you?” the boy growled, his tone low, hostile, like a cat backed into a corner. “And why were you picking a fight with Nirei?”

Chifuyu blinked, stunned for half a second. Picking a fight? He hadn't even raised his voice to the guy.

“I wasn’t—” he started, irritation rising.

“W-Wait! Sakura-kun, he wasn’t fighting me!” Nirei scrambled to get between them, his voice panicked. “He saved me! That guy in the alley— he kicked him—!”

But Sakura’s eyes didn’t waver. Cold, suspicious, untrusting. “He looks like he just crawled out of a brawl,” he said, voice dripping with judgment. “Covered in bruises. You sure he’s not from some gang? Probably mixed up in bad shit.”

That hit harder than it should’ve.

Something twisted in Chifuyu’s gut. His jaw clenched tight. Bad gang? The words rang in his ears, louder than they should. Toman’s name flared to the front of his mind—Baji-san's smile, Mitsuya-san's steady hands, Takemichi’s stubborn hope, Mikey-san's forgiveness, Draken-san's loyalty, Everyone's— all of it rising in his chest like a wave.

Toman was never a bad gang.

His hand clenched into a fist before he even knew it. The sting of betrayal in that guy's tone—one he didn’t deserve—burned too deep. He launched forward, fist drawn back, aiming not to hurt but to shut the guy up—

—but something smooth and swift intercepted him.

A palm.

Strong, open, and calm.

Chifuyu’s fist stopped cold, cradled in another’s hand like it was nothing.

He followed the arm up, eyes widening.

A tall figure stood between them, dressed in Furin’s colors with a light changshan beneath, curtain-like brown hair falling to either side of a warm, amused face.Wears a leather eyepatch on his right eye and a pair of yellow tassel earrings hanging off a red gem on either side. His brown eye was patient, but sharp—and somehow, still smiling.

“Sakura-kun,” the newcomer said softly, as if stopping fights was his morning routine, “perhaps calm down first, yes?”

Chifuyu stared, wide-eyed, not because the guy had blocked him—but because he’d done it so easily. Effortless. Like it was as simple as catching a falling leaf.

“He’s the one who saved our Nirei-kun, remember?” the tall boy added lightly, as if they weren’t in the middle of a near-fight. “Let’s not scare him off.”

Sakura scoffed and turned his head, lips twitching in something between annoyance and surprise. “He looked shady.”

Chifuyu pulled his hand back slowly, stepping away with a tense breath.

“I'm not shady, and I wasn't picking a fight,” he muttered. “Maybe don’t jump-kick strangers next time, Sakura-kun.”

Sakura clicked his tongue and looked away, but didn’t press further.

The tension hung in the air a beat longer before the tall one—clearly the peacemaker—offered Chifuyu a polite nod.

“I’m Hayato Suo,” he said. “That’s Haruka Sakura, who tends to get... heated. You okay?”

Chifuyu straightened, his breath steadying. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Suo’s smile didn’t fade. “You’ve got quick reflexes. And good aim.” He glanced pointedly at Sakura, who muttered something under his breath.

Chifuyu didn’t respond. His mind was still reeling—not from the fight, but from that one phrase. Bad gang. His nails dug into his palms. He hadn't come to Furin for this. He’d come to leave all that behind.

But it was clear—he’d have to earn his place here too.

---

Chifuyu’s footsteps echoed against the pavement as he turned the corner out of Furin’s courtyard, hands jammed deep into his jacket pockets. The air was cooler now, wind tugging faintly at his hair as the late afternoon sun dipped behind the rooftops.

He hadn’t looked back.

Not when Suo had smiled like he hadn’t just caught a punch mid-air.

Not when Sakura kept glaring like he’d just insulted his whole bloodline.

And not when Nirei had waved goodbye with both hands, like Chifuyu had just saved his cat.

He let out a slow breath.

Bad gang…

The words still stung. Not because they were unfamiliar—but because they sounded exactly like what people had always thought of them. Toman. Just another name in the long list of teenage violence. But they didn’t see the parts that mattered—the bond, the ideals, the fights they chose to protect something.

That was what Baji-san had believed in. What he had believed in.

Now he was here. In Furin. Among strangers, under a borrowed roof, and trying to start over without letting the past define him.

A familiar figure sat waiting on the low wall beside the vending machine near the back of the building.

Kaji Ren.

“Yo,” his cousin greeted casually, holding a bottle of soda he hadn’t opened. “You make any enemies yet?”

Chifuyu stopped, gave a quiet huff of dry amusement, and sat down beside him.

“Pretty sure one of your first-years tried to murder me with a roundhouse kick.”

Ren’s brows rose. “Sakura Haruka?”

“Yeah.”

“Figures.”

They sat in silence for a moment, broken only by the quiet clink of Ren’s bottle against the stone wall.

“He thought I was picking on Nirei guy,” Chifuyu muttered. “Called me a bad gang kid. Said I looked shady.”

Ren didn’t laugh. He just gave a small, thoughtful nod. “He’s not exactly wrong. You do look like you’ve been in a few back-alley fights.”

“…Not helping.”

Ren leaned back slightly, glancing up at the sky.

“They’re protective, y’know. Especially Haruka Sakura. It’s not easy for him to trust anyone. His whole life, people looked at him weird just for how he looks. So now, he jumps to conclusions fast. Fights faster.”

Chifuyu sighed. “Reminds me of someone, honestly.”

Ren tilted his head, but didn’t pry. “So, what’d you do?”

“…Nearly punched him in the face.”

“Classic.”

“But the Suo guy stopped me. Effortlessly.”

Ren chuckled now, quiet and warm. “Yeah. Hayato Suo’s scary like that.”

There was another pause. Chifuyu stared at the drink in Ren’s hand, the color of it glinting orange in the light.

“Do you ever miss it?” he asked softly. “The—you know— stuff. The loyalty. That feeling of being part of something.”

Ren didn’t answer immediately.

Then, “Sometimes. But I think what we miss isn’t the fights. It’s the people.”

Chifuyu looked down at his scraped knuckles. “I thought I was done with that kind of world. But then I saw Nirei guy frozen in that alley and I didn’t even hesitate. My body just moved.”

“Because that’s who you are.”

Chifuyu blinked at him.

Ren offered a shrug. “Protective. Even when it hurts. Even when it costs you.”

“…Is that supposed to be comforting?”

Ren smiled. “No. It’s supposed to remind you that you’re still you— even if you’re not in Toman anymore.”

Chifuyu was quiet for a long moment.

Then: “Thanks.”

They sat there a little longer.

Chifuyu eventually leaned back on his hands, looking toward the school building.

“That Sakura guy is a pain in the ass,” he muttered.

“You’ll like him,” Ren replied. “Give it time.”

Chifuyu didn’t answer.

But a small, grudging frown tugged at the corner of his mouth.

---

The morning was unusually peaceful at Furin High.

The rooftop, often reserved for secret smokes, naps, or quiet brooding, was currently occupied by a single figure kneeling by the large cluster of potted plants nestled in the corner—plants Umemiya Hajime insisted were “very important for rooftop vibes.”

Chifuyu Matsuno, sleeves rolled up, was gently watering a hibiscus like he had nothing better to do. Truthfully, he didn’t. He was bored. And the plants were the least annoying thing to deal with.

He heard the rooftop door slam open behind him.

“Fuyu-chin!” came the bright, unmistakable voice of Umemiya Hajime. “Perfect timing! I wanted to introduce you to someone.”

Chifuyu blinked, glanced over his shoulder—and immediately froze at the sight of three silhouettes stepping onto the rooftop behind Hajime.

One had nervously twitching hands and wide eyes. One had an unreadable smile and a curtain of brown hair. And one—

“YOU?!”

Sakura’s voice cracked like a whip.

Chifuyu raised an eyebrow, still crouched by the plants. He turned around slowly, setting the watering can down with practiced indifference.

He stared blankly at the three familiar faces, especially the one gaping at him like he'd grown another head.

Nirei looked like he wanted to disappear. Suo blinked in polite amusement.

Sakura looked like he’d bitten a lemon and then punched it.

“Oh!” Hajime clapped his hands. “So you already know each other? That’s even better! I’ll leave you kids to bond—don’t scare him off, okay?” He winked at the trio and vanished before anyone could protest.

That left three Furin first-years standing in awkward formation across from one utterly unimpressed middle schooler.

Chifuyu sighed, standing up and brushing dust from his pants. “Great.”

“What the hell are you doing here?!” Sakura snapped, stepping forward like he was ready to fight a second time.

Chifuyu deadpanned. “Unlike you, I do more with my day than hover on rooftops looking for fights.” He gave an exaggerated wave, dismissive and lazy. “Go on, scram. You’re bad for the plants.”

He made the motion deliberately—like he was waving off a stray cat. A stingy, loud, hostile stray cat. Chifuyu liked cats. Sakura, however, was an exception.

Suo gave a short laugh before stepping forward with an easygoing smile. “Nice to meet you again. I believe we still don't know your name?”

“Matsuno Chifuyu,” he replied, thumb pointing at his own chest. “I’m a middle schooler, by the way. So it’d be super lame if one of you” —his eyes flicked to Sakura— “picked a fight with me. Might ruin your high school rep.”

He said it with a smirk and a shrug, knowing exactly what he was doing.

Sakura twitched. His eyebrow twitched. His jaw twitched. His entire soul twitched.

Nirei quietly buried his face in his hands like this was some kind of tragic rerun.

“Oh no,” he whispered. “He’s provoking Sakura-kun again.”

Suo tilted his head, amused. “He’s good at it.”

Chifuyu crossed his arms. “It’s not my fault he’s easy to irritate.”

“You want me to prove it?!” Sakura stepped forward again.

“Want me to film it?” Chifuyu shot back coolly.

Their faces were inches apart now, matching glares, sharp angles of pride and teenage ego crackling between them like static.

“...Are they gonna kiss or fight?” Suo murmured, half-joking.

(RELAX GUYS, IT'S A HARMLESS JOKE)

Nirei choked.

Chifuyu and Sakura broke eye contact at the same time— one scoffing, the other glaring twice as hard to compensate.

“Whatever,” Chifuyu muttered, turning back toward the plants.

“I’m watching you,” Sakura growled.

“Good. Maybe you’ll learn something.”

This rooftop morning had definitely gotten louder.

Suo sat down first.

Right on the ledge of the rooftop, hands folded in his lap, like he wasn’t fazed in the slightest by the verbal sparring that had just taken place.

“So,” he said casually, “You water the plants often?”

Chifuyu raised an eyebrow, crouching again and checking the soil in one of the smaller pots. “Only when Umemiya-san disappears and I get bored.”

“You call him Umemiya-san?” Suo asked, tone teasing. “How polite. Reminds me of someone”

Chifuyu glanced over. “He gives me food and a good training. And he's kind of my cousin's friend— well, superior. I’m not dumb enough to be rude to someone that gives me rice balls.”

Suo laughed, soft and low, resting his chin on his hand. “Fair. Respect the hand that feeds.”

Sakura stood off to the side, arms crossed, watching them both like a hawk.

“Don’t get too chummy,” he muttered under his breath.

Chifuyu didn’t even look up. “I heard that.”

“I meant for you to.”

Nirei, crouched awkwardly next to a patch of mint, whispered, “Please don’t start again…”

But Suo was still watching Chifuyu with curious eyes. “So you’ve been around Furin a lot?”

Chifuyu nodded, sitting back against the railing. “Yeah. I crash here sometimes.”

“That explains the familiarity.” Suo’s gaze sharpened slightly. “You don’t act like a middle schooler.”

Chifuyu shrugged. “I don’t feel like one either.”

There was something older in his voice when he said that—something Suo picked up on but didn’t comment on. Instead, he nodded with a little smile and let the silence stretch comfortably.

Sakura fidgeted. He hated this. Hated the way Suo could just... talk to people. Hated that Nirei wasn’t even scared of Chifuyu anymore. Hated the weird twist in his gut when Chifuyu leaned back and smile like he belonged here.

And hated, most of all, how interesting Chifuyu was.

“So,” Sakura said suddenly, voice sharp, “if you’re so used to Furin, why haven’t we seen you before?”

Chifuyu tilted his head, eyes narrowing faintly. “You weren’t worth noticing.”

Suo gave a low whistle, impressed.

Sakura’s nostrils flared. “You little—!”

“Anyway,” Suo cut in smoothly, standing up and brushing off his pants, “Nirei, didn’t you want to show me that one corner of the campus with the vending machines that eat coins?”

“I—uh—yes?” Nirei blinked, confused. “Wait, are we leaving them alone?”

Suo smiled with all his teeth. “Yes.”

And just like that, he dragged Nirei away with a surprisingly firm grip.

Leaving Chifuyu and Sakura alone.

The silence hit like a dropped brick.

“…You always this annoying?” Sakura muttered, scowling at the plants.

“Only when I get bored,” Chifuyu replied, not looking up. “But you’re fun to tease, so thanks for that.”

“Don’t get used to me.”

“Already did.”

Sakura let out a sharp exhale through his nose, like he was debating whether or not to jump off the rooftop or push Chifuyu off it instead.

“…Tch. Whatever.”

But he didn’t leave.

He sat down beside the plants.

Didn’t say anything.

Didn’t even look at Chifuyu.

Chifuyu didn’t say anything either.

They sat in silence for about thirty seconds.

Then:

“You always crouch like a cat?” Sakura muttered, arms crossed as he glared at Chifuyu from a cautious distance.

“You always scowl like someone pissed in your lunch?” Chifuyu shot back, not bothering to look up from the herb pot he was poking.

Sakura’s eye twitched. “You’ve got a big mouth for someone so short.”

Chifuyu glanced at him. “You’ve got a big attitude for someone with a two-tone head. How’d that happen, huh? Forgot what hair color you wanted?”

“Genetics, you ass.”

“Ah. Explains the personality split too.”

“You wanna fight?” Sakura snapped, standing up suddenly.

Chifuyu looked up at him with a bored expression. “Not really. I already beat up someone bigger than you this morning. My quota’s full.”

Sakura bristled, stepping closer. “Then maybe you want a rematch from earlier?”

“You mean when you nearly kicked my head off before asking what my motives are?” Chifuyu stood too, brushing off his hands. “Yeah, real friendly welcome.”

Sakura clicked his tongue, fists clenched. “You were looking at Nirei funny!”

“I look at everyone funny. My face just does that.”

“You were smirking!”

“I always smirk! I smirk in my sleep!”

Sakura blinked. “...That’s concerning.”

Chifuyu shrugged. “So’s your blood pressure.”

They glared at each other, the air between them crackling with the kind of tension that could only exist between two stubborn teenagers who had decided on instinct that they didn’t like each other.

Chifuyu tilted his head. “You gonna hit me or what?”

“…No,” Sakura muttered, looking away.

“Huh. Restraint. You can do that.”

“Shut up.”

“You started it.”

“You started it with that stray-cat look you gave Nirei!”

“You mean the one where I helped him not get concussed in an alley? Yeah. Real suspicious behavior.”

“I don’t trust delinquents.”

Chifuyu’s smirk vanished for a fraction of a second.

“…Yeah, well,” he said, voice lower now, “not all of them deserve to be trusted.”

Sakura frowned, something in Chifuyu’s tone making him pause—but before he could ask what that meant, the rooftop door swung open.

“We’re back!” Nirei called cheerfully, holding a can of juice in each hand.

Suo stepped out behind him, gaze flicking immediately to the two of them. “Still alive? No blood? No broken planters?”

Sakura scoffed and looked away. “We were fine.”

Chifuyu just waved lazily. “Welcome back. Saved me from death by lecture.”

“Oh, you’re getting one,” Suo said with a smile. “Just later.”

Chifuyu groaned.

Sakura turned to Nirei and Suo, walking over like he hadn’t just been locked in a growl-fest with Chifuyu for the last five minutes. But even as he moved away, his head tilted slightly, and he muttered:

“…Thanks. For helping Nirei.”

It was quiet. Almost too quiet to catch.

But Chifuyu heard it.

He blinked, startled.

“…Huh,” he muttered under his breath, and his smirk returned.

“Tsundere,” he called after Sakura.

“I will push you off this roof!”

After the rooftop unexpected reunion settled into a more civil lull (or at least no threats of rooftop homicide), the four boys found themselves seated under the shade of the water tanks. Nirei sipped his tea contentedly, Suo leaned back on his elbows, and Sakura was pretending very hard not to be side-eyeing Chifuyu every two minutes.

“So,” Suo said casually, eyes half-lidded, “you’re a middle schooler. And you’re… hanging around Furin a lot...”

Chifuyu raised an eyebrow. “What about it?”

“You planning to enroll?”

“…Maybe?.”

“Why?” Sakura said, scoffing. “You’re already stronger than most of the newbies. Not like you need the name.”

Chifuyu shrugged. “Never said I was coming here for the name.”

Nirei blinked. “Then why are you here?”

There was a long pause. Chifuyu tapped his finger against the rim of his drink can, then tilted his head, expression unreadable.

“…Call it rehab.”

Suo lifted a brow. “Rehab?”

“From what, drugs?” Sakura deadpanned.

Chifuyu gave him a look. “No, idiot. I meant… mental rehab. From people. From expectations. From gangs.”

That made them pause. Even Sakura’s usual sarcasm froze.

Nirei tilted his head. “Were you… in one?”

Chifuyu was quiet for a beat too long. Then:

“I used to be with Toman.”

Silence fell like a dropped brick.

“…You mean the Toman?” Suo asked slowly, his usually calm tone tightening slightly.

“Yeah.”

“As in the one that was involved in the Bloody Halloween a week ago? That Toman?”

Chifuyu nodded.

“Weren’t they just—?”

“Yup.”

“And weren’t there rumors someone almost died in that fight?”

“…Yeah,” Chifuyu said, a sharp glint flashing in his eyes before it vanished. “There were.”

Sakura sat forward, brows knitting. “You were in that mess? What the hell?! Why would you come here?”

Chifuyu looked up at the sky.

“…Because I didn’t know where else to go. And Ren said I could stay.”

Suo blinked. “Ren?”

“Kaji Ren?” Nirei squeaked.

“The hot-blooded second-year senpai who knocked out a whole biker gang by himself because they broke his headphones? That Kaji Ren?”

Chifuyu gave them a tired, crooked smile.

“My cousin.”

All three of them:

“WHAT?!”

Chifuyu winced, covering one ear. “Can you not scream like I just said I’m dating your sister?”

“But—but—but—” Nirei stammered. “He’s like, scary! And intense! And you’re—!”

“A cat boy,” Sakura supplied.

“Shut up!” Chifuyu and Nirei said at once.

Suo laughed lightly, though his eyes were still fixed on Chifuyu with something thoughtful. “I guess that explains the attitude. You’ve got that same simmering vibe.”

“I do not simmer,” Chifuyu said flatly.

Sakura muttered, “You boil, idiot.”

Chifuyu sighed and got up. “Anyway, I’m not here to make friends. So don’t get used to seeing me.”

As he started walking toward the bench, Suo called after him, “Too late. We already have your name. And your past.”

“Damn it,” Chifuyu muttered as he descended, “they are worse than Mikey and others.”

The rusted door to the rooftop groaned open with the weight of footsteps, creaking as sunlight spilled over the cracked concrete. Chifuyu didn’t look up. He was crouched beside Umemiya’s tomato patch, aggressively watering them like they were enemies he was reluctantly nurturing.

“Fuyu-chiiin~!” a familiar, singsong voice rang out behind him. “How’s the bonding session going with our adorable little kouhais?”

Chifuyu deadpanned at the tomatoes. “Bad. Get them out before I burn these plants.”

The watering can tilted dangerously.

A sharp gasp followed, as expected. “Not my precious tomatoes!” Umemiya practically lunged forward, shielding the vines with his arms like a mother hen guarding her chicks.

Chifuyu still didn’t turn. But the second set of footsteps caught his attention. They were heavier, quieter—measured like a blade sheathed in skin. He glanced over just as Kaji Ren, his cousin and one-man-threat-to-all-things-sane, stepped into view, cracking his knuckles with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Are they bothering you?” Kaji asked, voice calm in that not actually calm way that made people instinctively reconsider their life choices.

Suo took a careful step back.

“No more than usual,” Chifuyu muttered. “But if one of them breathes near me again, I’ll throw someone off this roof.”

“You tried to punch me!” Sakura snapped from the side, his mismatched eyes sparking with insult.

Chifuyu stood slowly, setting the watering can down with just a bit too much force. “You tried to kick me first, dumbass. I was helping Nirei-san.”

“Enough,” Kaji cut in, stepping forward, lazy smile never leaving his face. “If they keep yapping, I’ll push them off the edge myself.”

Another scandalized gasp from Umemiya. “Ren-kun! We do not push the first-years off rooftops! That is against… against everything!”

Neither cousin responded.

Nirei looked like he wanted to evaporate. “I swear we weren’t doing anything! I-I mean, we’re not trying to bother him! I think we’re… bonding? Maybe?”

Suo just offered a half-apologetic, half-curious smile. “I was asking about his past. Toman isn’t exactly a name we hear up here often.”

Chifuyu’s shoulders tensed at that—just slightly—but he didn’t speak.

Sakura folded his arms, chin lifting. “I just don’t like his attitude.”

Chifuyu finally turned, giving him a look that could curdle milk. Then he raised a single finger. Middle one.

Ren snorted. “Sounds like a healthy friendship already.”

Chifuyu rolled his eyes and crouched back down, resting his arms on his knees. “They can stay,” he said at last, voice gruff but reluctant. “But if anyone here calls me ‘Fuyu-chin’ again, I’m burning this entire rooftop garden.”

Suo chuckled. “Understood.”

“Too bad!” Umemiya beamed. “It suits you!”

Chifuyu didn’t even reply. He just grabbed the watering can again and aimed it at Umemiya, water splashing dangerously close to the tomato stems.

Umemiya shrieked, diving behind Ren with all the drama of a theater major. “My tomatoes! My heirloom varietals! Why is this rooftop always cursed with violence?!”

Ren only sighed, clearly used to it. “We done here?”

Chifuyu paused for a moment, staring at the city beyond the edge of the rooftop, the distant hum of life below.

“…Almost.”

Behind him, Suo and Nirei exchanged glances. Sakura huffed, but he didn’t leave. Didn’t snap another insult either.

The sun dipped low behind the buildings, casting long, stretched shadows over the street. Chifuyu crouched beside an old woman in front of a small grocery store, gently repacking a torn paper bag that had exploded into a mess of rolling apples and cracked sweet potatoes.

“Here,” he muttered, slipping the last apple into a sturdier bag she had fished from her purse. “Careful on your way home.”

“Oh, bless you, young man!” she beamed, patting his arm with a grateful squeeze before tottering off.

Chifuyu rose, brushing grit from his knees. He barely had time to take a breath before—

“Well, well. Look who it is.”

That voice. That smug, nasal drawl scraped across his ears like nails on a chalkboard.

Chifuyu didn’t need to turn. He knew exactly who it was.

The punk he’d drop-kicked to protect Nirei. The one with the glass jaw and bruised ego. And now, clearly, a bigger grudge.

“You’ve got some balls showing your face around here again,” the guy snarled, his busted lip still raw. “Middle school brat thinks he’s some kind of hero?”

Chifuyu turned slowly, calm but cold. “I think I’m someone who doesn’t waste time with trash.”

The thug lunged with a wild punch.

Chifuyu moved to block—but didn’t need to.

Crack!

A blur zipped past him—black and white hair flashing—and Sakura’s fist slammed into the guy’s jaw with surgical precision. The thug reeled back, gagging.

“Touch him again,” Sakura said darkly, eyes flickering gold and blue, “and I’ll break more than your pride this time.”

Chifuyu blinked.

Then Suo stepped up beside him, hands in his back, cool and composed as ever. His voice was soft, but it cut like a blade.

“You’ve already lost once. Stay here and you’ll leave with more than a bruised jaw.”

Nirei popped in behind them, arms wide like a human barrier—though he was clearly trembling. “Y-Yeah! Don’t be stupid, man! Just go!”

The thug’s confidence crumbled fast. He spat a curse, clutching his face as he slunk away, disappearing into a side alley with his pride trailing behind.

Silence.

Chifuyu stared at the three of them. “You guys…”

Sakura huffed, rubbing his knuckles. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I didn’t do it for you.”

“…You punched him before I could.”

“Yeah, well. You looked like you were about to let him hit you. Like some kind of justice martyr. Dumbass.”

Suo chuckled. “That’s our Sakura. Sharp fists, sharper mouth.”

Nirei peered up at Chifuyu, eyes big. “You okay? You didn’t get hit or anything, right?”

Chifuyu hesitated. His heart wasn’t racing from fear—it was something else. 

Something warmer.

He’d been protected.

Not pitied...

Protected.

“…Tch.” He looked away, the tips of his ears faintly pink. “Could’ve handled it.”

Sakura scoffed. “Sure. And I’m the Emperor of France.”

Chifuyu didn’t reply—but he didn’t push them away either. The four of them walked on, their shadows stretching long behind them.

For the first time in a while, Chifuyu didn’t feel like he was walking alone.

But the fight wasn’t over yet.

Chifuyu stepped out of the corner store with a plastic bag swinging lightly in his hand. The curry packets inside rustled next to the milk tea he’d grabbed as a treat. Twilight had settled over the street like a soft veil.

“Cheap curry and milk tea,” he muttered, checking the time. “Could be worse.”

He didn’t get five steps before the air shifted.

Footsteps. Fast. Closing in.

CRACK!

Pain exploded through his ribs. The bat had come out of nowhere, and it dropped him hard onto the pavement. His groceries scattered. The plastic bag split.

“Heh. Not so tough now, huh?”

That same punk—back again—but this time he had friends. Three older guys with mean eyes and twitchy hands. One spun the metal bat like it was a game.

“I told you, brat. I always pay my debts.”

Two of them grabbed Chifuyu’s arms, yanking him upright, locking him in place.

“Cheap move,” Chifuyu spat, coughing. His vision swam. “Four on one?”

The guy raised the bat again, lips twisted in a sneer—

“HEY!!”

A shout sliced the air. Then chaos.

Sakura barreled in like a storm, tackling one thug into the wall with a loud crunch. Suo followed a second later, ghosting in from the side to sweep the bat-wielder’s legs out from under him. The weapon clattered uselessly to the ground.

Nirei appeared, pale but furious. He lunged forward and tore one of the goons off Chifuyu’s arm. “Get your hands off him!”

It was instant.

Suo spun low and drove his palm into a thug’s gut, knocking the wind out of him. Sakura’s kicks landed fast and brutal. Chifuyu, shaking but upright, saw a guy coming from behind and didn’t hesitate—he pivoted and smashed an elbow into his face, then slammed him into the asphalt.

“You okay?” he asked Suo without turning.

“Peachy,” Suo replied, breathless but calm.

One of the punks tried to crawl away. Chifuyu caught him by the collar and yanked him back. “Not done yet.”

Sakura threw a punch that cracked in the quiet. “Dammit, I wanted to finish this fight alone!”

“They hit me with a bat!” Chifuyu snapped.

“So now you’re mad?!”

“Shut up and punch someone!”

“You shut up!”

“You both shut up!” Nirei cried, wildly swinging the fallen bat at a thug’s legs. 

“You’re being loud!!”

By the time it ended, all four punks were groaning on the ground or stumbling away in defeat. Chifuyu stood in the center, chest heaving, curry forgotten, knuckles sore.

Sakura wiped blood from his cheek. “You fight like you’ve done this before.”

“I have,” Chifuyu said flatly.

"Oh. Yeah. Right. Toman"

Suo tilted his head. “You okay?”

“…Yeah. Thanks.”

The four of them stood in silence, bruised but victorious.

Then Nirei beamed. “We’re, like… kinda badass, huh?”

Chifuyu snorted. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

Sakura smirked. “He’s just salty I got more hits in.”

“You wish.”

“Wanna count bruises?”

Suo sighed, shaking his head fondly. “Let’s get curry before you two start a rematch.”

As they walked back through the twilight, bloodied and bickering, Chifuyu felt the ache in his ribs—but it was nothing compared to the warmth blooming quietly in his chest.

He wasn’t alone now in this town.

---

Later that night

Kaji Ren's Apartment

The quiet clink of spoons and the warm, fragrant scent of curry filled the living room of the small apartment. Bandages wrapped haphazardly around knuckles and ribs, a first-aid kit sitting open on the low table between them.

Chifuyu sat on the couch, shirt lifted so Nirei could dab antiseptic on the dark bruise blooming over his side.

"Ow—damn, take it easy," Chifuyu hissed.

"Sorry! I’m sorry!" Nirei flinched, gently blowing on the spot like that might help. "I watched a first-aid video once. Kind of."

Sakura sat nearby, arms crossed but his own busted lip covered with gauze. “You're lucky we showed up. Idiot.”

Chifuyu glanced at him, then at Suo, who was calmly wrapping a bandage around his own forearm like he’d done this hundreds of times. “Tch. I could’ve handled it.”

“You were literally being held up like a piñata,” Sakura muttered.

“Yeah? And you’re one to talk, Princess Two-Tone.”

“What did you just call me?!”

Before it could escalate, the front door slammed open.

“CHIFUYU!”

Everyone froze.

Kaji Ren stood at the doorway, his sharp glare sweeping across the room. He was still in his school jacket, hair wind-blown from his rush, one hand clutching his phone like it had personally betrayed him.

“What the hell is this?” he barked, stalking into the room. “Why do I get a text from Nirei saying ‘everything’s fine but Chifuyu got hit with a bat’?!”

Chifuyu winced. “Technically, it was only once.”

Kaji’s eyes flared. “Once?! Are you out of your mind?! You’re supposed to be clearing your dignity, not getting into street fights like it’s your job!”

“I didn’t start it—”

“That’s not the point!”

He spun toward the others. “And you three—why did no one drag him home before he got hurt?!”

Suo raised both hands in diplomatic surrender. “To be fair, he was the least injured.”

“Because we protected him,” Sakura grumbled, not quite looking Kaji in the eye.

Kaji pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly regretting every life choice that had led him to this moment. “Unbelievable.”

But as his eyes landed on the makeshift bandage on Chifuyu’s ribs, his expression softened—only slightly. He walked over, crouching in front of him.

“Let me see.”

Chifuyu hesitated. “It’s not that bad.”

Kaji gave him the look.

Chifuyu sighed and let his cousin lift the bandage, gently pressing the edge of the bruise. He didn’t say anything when Chifuyu flinched—but the muscle in his jaw ticked.

"You’re lucky nothing’s broken. You scared the hell out of me, dumbass.”

Chifuyu looked down. “…Sorry.”

The room was quiet for a beat.

Then Nirei held out a takeout box with an overly hopeful smile. “Curry?”

Kaji blinked.

“…Fine,” he said, standing. “But next time? You’re calling me the second anything happens. Or I swear I’ll tell your mom.”

Chifuyu paled. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would. And she’ll fly in from Tokyo with your cat in a rage blizzard.”

The others snorted with laughter. Even Sakura cracked a smirk.

Kaji finally allowed himself a tired breath and sat with them, taking the offered curry.

Minutes later, they were eating in comfortable silence. Sakura poked at a pickle with his chopsticks. Suo shared a stupid story about a teacher who once tripped on his own hakama. Nirei spilled curry on his pants and cried about it. Chifuyu just sat there, sore but warm, surrounded.

He caught Kaji looking at him—worried, relieved, and deeply annoyed all at once.

“…I’m okay,” Chifuyu said quietly.

Kaji didn’t answer. He just ruffled his hair and turned back to his food.

Chifuyu smiled.

Maybe he was a little bruised. A little reckless.

But for the first time in a long time… he really wasn’t alone.

---

---

Later That Night Again– 

Kaji Ren's Apartment, 1:07 A.M.

The lights were dim now, the hum of the city a distant murmur through the windows. Curry containers had been cleaned up (mostly), the first-aid kit finally shut, and someone had dumped extra blankets onto the living room floor without much planning.

Kaji Ren had given up trying to make them go home after the third yawn from Nirei and the way Sakura kept pretending he wasn’t nodding off upright.

Now, four bodies were sprawled across the room in a lazy patchwork of limbs and quilts. Nirei had passed out halfway through a movie, drooling slightly onto Suo’s arm. Suo didn’t seem to mind, scrolling through his book with half-lidded eyes.

Sakura lay curled up against one end of the couch, borrowed hoodie drawn up like a shell, one hand tucked under his cheek. His lip was healing, his brow still furrowed even in sleep. Chifuyu sat beside him, the corner of a blanket draped over his knees, quietly watching the flicker of TV light dance across the walls.

Kaji stepped in from the hallway, a towel slung around his neck, his hair damp from a late shower. He paused, surveying the chaos.

“You better not leave curry stains on my floor,” he muttered.

“Too late,” Chifuyu said, voice soft.

Kaji rolled his eyes and tossed a folded blanket at his head. “Use that and try not to get blood on my couch.”

There was a silence between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

“…Thanks,” Chifuyu finally muttered.

Kaji leaned against the doorframe. “For the blanket?”

“For… yelling. Patchin’ me up. Not calling my mom.”

Kaji shrugged. “I’m still considering it.”

Chifuyu smirked, but his eyes softened. “Still… I mean it.”

Kaji didn’t answer right away. He walked over and gently sat next to him, gaze scanning the bruises that were already starting to fade purple and blue. He reached out, brushed a lock of hair off Chifuyu’s forehead the way he used to when they were little.

“You scared me,” he said. “But… I’m proud of you.”

Chifuyu blinked.

“You stepped up. Took hits. But you didn’t take them alone.” Kaji’s eyes flicked toward the sleeping figures sprawled around the room. “You finally let other people stand beside you. That’s new.”

“…Yeah.” Chifuyu looked at them—Sakura curled like a cat, Suo pretending to be asleep, Nirei twitching in his sleep. He exhaled. “They’re loud and annoying.”

“But they stayed.”

“Yeah.”

They sat there in quiet for a long moment before Kaji yawned and stood up.

“Alright, I’m going to bed. Don’t stay up too late.”

“Wait,” Chifuyu said suddenly.

Kaji paused.

“…Do you remember that one winter in Sapporo? When I got into that fight and came home with a black eye?”

Kaji turned slowly. “The one where I covered for you and said you fell on the ice?”

“Yeah.” Chifuyu smiled faintly. “You made me hot chocolate and let me hide under your kotatsu.”

Kaji chuckled, warm and nostalgic. “You were such a mess.”

“Still am.”

“But not alone in here anymore,” Kaji said, softer now.

Chifuyu didn’t reply. He just nodded.

---

Another Later That Night – Rooftop of Kaji Ren’s Apartment, Furin Territory

The streets below buzzed faintly with late-night life, a dull hum of neon and distant voices. Up on the rooftop, however, everything felt still.

Chifuyu sat on the concrete ledge with one leg drawn up, hoodie hood thrown loosely over his head, shadows clinging to the contours of his tired face. The breeze tugged at his bangs, cool against the faint heat of his healing bruises.

He exhaled slowly, eyes scanning the skyline. But it wasn’t the lights or the sounds that held his thoughts.

“…Peke J,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

He toyed with the frayed edge of his hoodie sleeve, his other hand curled loosely around a cooling can of milk tea. His ribs ached when he breathed too deep, but a sharper pain bloomed somewhere quieter—underneath it all.

“I wonder if you’re still sleeping on my bed,” he muttered. “Or if you’ve gone and claimed the couch like a spoiled prince.”

A humorless smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Did Mom remember to feed you today? She always messes up the chicken. Boils it to hell. You hate that.”

He swallowed, throat tight. The street lights blurred a little.

“I should’ve brought you.”

A gust of wind whispered across the rooftop, and Chifuyu hunched deeper into his hoodie.

“You wouldn’t have liked it here. Too much noise. Too many fists. You’d probably hiss at Sakura.”

The quiet lingered.

Then he closed his eyes and leaned back, head tilted to the stars.

“I miss you, spoiled cat.”

---

That Same Night – Tokyo, Baji’s Apartment Balcony

The evening air was cool, heavy with the scent of rain that hadn’t yet fallen.

Baji stepped out onto his small, cluttered balcony with a mug in hand, the steam from his tea curling around his face. He was only wearing a tank top, shoulders wrapped in gauze under his loose flannel. The healing wound still tugged when he moved.

He leaned against the railing with a grunt, staring absently at the sky.

Then—he heard it.

“Mew.”

It was soft, hesitant—just one note.

His gaze dropped.

There, sitting prim and still on the ledge just outside the sliding door, was a small black cat. Sleek fur. Sharp black eyes. Ears flicked forward like he’d traveled a long way and wasn’t sure if he’d be welcome.

“…Peke J?” Baji asked, blinking.

The cat meowed again. It wasn’t desperate. Just… tired. Familiar.

Baji crouched slowly, setting the mug down with a quiet clink.

“You little stalker. You've been around this spot without me here?”

Peke J padded forward, tail curling high, and rubbed his face against Baji’s extended hand with a low, vibrating purr. His fur was warm from travel, soft with the scent of streets and home.

Baji scratched gently beneath his chin, brow furrowed.

“You came looking for him, huh?”

The cat purred louder, curling up beside Baji’s knee like he belonged there.

“...Did you know where he went?”

Peke J simply blinked at him, eyes half-lidded with contentment. He bumped Baji’s hand again, insistently.

Baji sighed and reached to gently gather the cat into his lap.

“I guess that’s a no,” he muttered, voice rough around the edges.

He looked out at the distant horizon, fingers slowly stroking the familiar little ball of fur curled against his chest.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I miss him too.”

And Peke J stayed there—warm, breathing, waiting.

Just like Baji.

---

Sometime Past 2 A.M.

A heavy quiet had settled. The TV flickered faintly. Chifuyu lay flat now, one arm tucked behind his head, the other resting beside him. He could hear Nirei’s light snoring. Sakura’s steady breathing. The soft noise from Suo’s book, probably still awake despite claiming otherwise.

He turned toward the ceiling and let out a small sigh.

He was sore. Exhausted. Full of curry. Surrounded by idiots.

And weirdly… safe.

“Kaji,” he mumbled toward the hallway.

A sleepy grumble responded.

“…Thanks. Again.”

From the other room, a gruff voice replied, “Get some sleep, brat.”

And this time, Chifuyu did.

----- Bonus -----

The Next Morning – 8:42 A.M.

Kaji Ren's Apartment, Kitchen-Living Room

The smell hit first—burnt toast, fried eggs, and something suspiciously… sweet?

Chifuyu groaned awake on the floor, his neck kinked at an awful angle against a rolled-up jacket. Nirei was curled up next to him like a cat, hugging a pillow. Suo had relocated at some point and was now sitting cross-legged at the table, chewing calmly on dry cereal out of the box.

Sakura was nowhere to be seen—until a loud clang echoed from the kitchen.

“Dammit—how the hell do you turn this thing down?!”

“You’re gonna kill us all!” Chifuyu called groggily, clutching his head as he sat up. “What are you even making?”

“Pancakes,” Sakura yelled back. “But the batter's too runny!”

“I said just add more flour,” Suo offered helpfully between bites.

“You said that after I already added sugar!”

“...This is going to be disgusting,” Chifuyu muttered.

He hauled himself to his feet, stretching sore muscles and wincing when a bruise on his side protested. Still—he felt lighter this morning, despite the stiffness and chaos.

In the kitchen, Sakura stood with a whisk in hand, wearing one of Kaji’s aprons (which said “WORLD’S MOST PATIENT COUSIN”) and glaring down at the pan like it had insulted his mother.

“You’re using my spatula wrong,” Kaji grunted as he walked in, hair tousled, still in sweatpants. He paused, took one look at the batter-covered countertop, and sighed like a man whose patience was on its final thread.

“...I’m confiscating my stove next time.”

Sakura scowled. “No you’re not. I’m winning them over with pancakes.”

Nirei stumbled in behind Chifuyu, yawning and rubbing his eyes. “Are those chocolate chips… or soybeans?”

“No one knows,” Suo deadpanned.

Kaji rubbed his temples. “Matsuno, control your gremlins.”

Chifuyu raised both hands in surrender. “I literally just woke up.”

Sakura shoved a lumpy pancake onto a plate and handed it to Chifuyu. “Here. You’re the lab rat.”

“...Why is it green.”

“Matcha. Maybe. I think.”

“...Maybe?!”

Kaji pulled open a cabinet, grumbling as he fetched real breakfast supplies. “Sit down, all of you. I’m cooking. You’re banned from the stove.”

“But I’m good with eggs!” Nirei protested.

“You cracked one on my floor.”

Suo smiled politely. “I can make tea.”

“No one touches anything but the cups,” Kaji snapped.

---

Five Minutes Later

A new smell filled the apartment—proper eggs, toast, warm rice, and grilled fish. Kaji worked like a tired chef in a busy diner, grumbling but efficient. The others sat at the table, finally calm.

Chifuyu watched Sakura try to sneak another pancake onto Suo’s plate. Suo quietly passed it to Nirei, who took a huge bite and immediately gagged.

“Still not bad,” Nirei wheezed, eyes watering.

“I hate you all,” Kaji said mildly, plating the fish.

Chifuyu chuckled softly and leaned back in his chair.

It was loud. A little stupid. Ridiculous, even.

But he liked it.

“Thanks for feeding us,” he said, genuine this time.

Kaji looked over, catching the softened expression on his cousin’s face. His mouth twitched. “Anytime. You bring home idiots again though, I’m charging rent.”

“You already charge me rent!”

“I’m doubling it.”

They bickered the rest of breakfast, Sakura burning one last pancake just to be petty.

And for the first time in a long time… Chifuyu laughed without flinching.

End 

Chapter Text

Furin High Gym – Late Afternoon

The wooden floor groaned under the force of quick footwork and solid hits. Sweat clung to Chifuyu’s shirt, his breath coming hard but steady. Every strike he threw now was cleaner, more disciplined—less reckless than before, though still fueled by something raw.

The bruises from the last fight still ached—one across his ribs, another hidden under his sleeve. He winced with each movement but kept going. He wasn’t about to start the day feeling weak.

“You’re swinging like a toddler.”

The voice came from behind him—flat, sharp, familiar. Chifuyu turned to see Kaji leaning against the gym entrance, arms crossed, a red lollipop stick poking from the corner of his mouth.

“You say that like you’re disappointed, cousin,” Chifuyu muttered, cracking his neck.

“I am. You keep letting punks sneak up on you like it’s a game.” Kaji walked forward slowly, the lollipop clicking against his teeth. “It’s getting embarrassing.”

“You watching me or stalking me?”

Kaji smirked. “You’re my cousin. It’s both.”

Chifuyu exhaled through his nose. “So you gonna keep lecturing or—”

Kaji moved without warning.

A sharp jab nearly clipped Chifuyu’s shoulder—he dodged just in time, foot skidding along the rooftop tile. “The hell?!”

“You said you wanted me to stop talking,” Kaji replied calmly, rolling the lollipop in his mouth. “Lesson one: Stop hesitating.”

He stepped in again, faster this time. Chifuyu blocked the second blow but barely countered. Kaji was sharp—his movements fluid, unflashy, practiced. This wasn’t brawling. This was precision.

“Back when you were in Toman,” Kaji said between exchanges, “you had backup. You don’t have that anymore. If you’re gonna survive here, in Furin, then you fight like no one’s coming for you.”

Chifuyu’s jaw tightened. He ducked a kick, then launched a knee toward Kaji’s ribs—only to have it caught effortlessly.

“You’re fast. But your tells are loud,” Kaji said. “Emotions make noise. Shut them up.”

With a flick, he shoved Chifuyu back.

Panting, Chifuyu straightened, sweat dripping down his neck despite the chill.

“Again,” he said through clenched teeth. “Don’t go easy.”

Kaji smiled, slow and crooked. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

He popped the lollipop free and tapped it against his palm like it was a baton.

The sky outside was a soft grey, clouds lazily drifting across the sun, casting gentle shadows over Furin’s gym windows. It smelled faintly of cool air and sweat.

Chifuyu’s body slammed against the wooden floor for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. Pain pulsed through his ribs, but he gritted his teeth, rolling onto one elbow to catch his breath.

Kaji stood a few feet away, arms crossed, the usual lollipop lazily balanced between his teeth. His relaxed stance was a lie—Chifuyu had already learned the hard way how fast those hands moved.

“Again,” Kaji said flatly.

“Give me... five seconds to die first,” Chifuyu wheezed.

“No time like the present.” Kaji tilted his head, a faint grin on his face. “If you can’t take a few throws, what the hell were you doing in Toman?”

That stung.

Chifuyu’s eyes narrowed. He pushed himself upright, ignoring the dull ache in his shoulders. “I didn’t survive Toman just by looking pretty, you know.”

“Then prove it.”

Chifuyu lunged.

He came in low, trying to bait a counter and slide under it, but Kaji saw it coming. Their bodies blurred in sharp, precise movements—Kaji sidestepping, catching Chifuyu’s wrist, twisting—

Chifuyu was flipped clean onto his back again.

His breath left him in a huff.

“Slower than before,” Kaji muttered. “Tired already?”

“You’re the worst cousin ever,” Chifuyu croaked.

“Yet here you are.”

Chifuyu groaned. “I hate you.”

Kaji Ren deflected a punch with ease, letting it glance off his forearm before delivering a sharp tap to Chifuyu’s ribs.

“Stop leaning in,” he said curtly. “You’re not a street brawler anymore.”

“I’m not!” Chifuyu snapped, teeth clenched as he readjusted his stance, lunging in again.

The gym door slid open with a soft hiss.

Toma Hiragi stood in the doorway, a towel slung over his neck, duffel bag resting on one shoulder. The late sunlight spilled in behind him, casting his silhouette long across the gym floor.

He paused.

His gaze fell on the two sparring figures—on the kid with the tight fists and burning eyes. Not just any kid.

Chifuyu Matsuno.

The same one who’d dragged himself into this very gym last summer—bruised, bitter, burning to change. The one Kaji had thrown into weekend drills. Sometimes, even Umemiya dropped by to correct his form, offering calm advice no one expected from Furin’s leader.

It had been months.

Hiragi stepped fully inside, the door easing shut behind him.

“Kaji,” he said, voice easy.

Kaji caught Chifuyu’s punch mid-air and let it drop. He turned toward the door, a rare smile tugging at his mouth.

“Hiragi-san,” he greeted. “Didn’t think we’d see you till next week.”

Hiragi nodded, eyes still fixed on Chifuyu. “You’ve grown.”

Chifuyu, catching his breath, lowered his fists. His heart skipped. “Hiragi-san…?”

Hiragi chuckled, stepping forward. “Didn’t recognize me?”

“I did—just…” Chifuyu rubbed his face with the back of his wrist. “Didn’t think you’d remember me.”

Hiragi dropped his bag and crouched, pulling wrist wraps free. “I remember every student who bleeds on this floor and comes back.” He glanced up. “You still flinch before your left jab. Fix that and you’ll land twice as much.”

Kaji gave a soft huff. “Very sharp.”

“Not here to babysit,” Hiragi said, standing. “I’m here to push you both.”

“You’re joining?” Chifuyu asked, part dread, part awe.

“Unless you’re planning to stop.”

“…No.”

Hiragi smiled.

“Good.”

---

Later – During Drills

Hiragi moved like clockwork—precise, clean, unreadable. He didn’t strike to hurt. He struck to teach.

“Reset,” he ordered, as Chifuyu staggered back, lungs burning. “You’re faster than you were. Stronger. But your head’s full of ghosts.”

That one hit deeper than any blow.

Kaji tossed him a bottle of water. His voice was quiet, but firm. “He’s right. You’re here now. Stop fighting like you're still back there.”

Chifuyu said nothing. His fingers curled tighter around the bottle.

For the first time in months, something in his chest unclenched.

Hiragi approached and rested a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve got potential, Chifuyu. More than most. Don’t waste it trying to be someone you’re not.”

Before Chifuyu could answer, the gym doors opened again.

The atmosphere shifted instantly.

Footsteps entered—slow, confident, deliberate.

Umemiya Hajime led the way, hands buried in his pockets, a relaxed smile on his face. At his side, Tsubaki trailed in with striking ease—long black hair tinged pink swaying behind them, boots clicking sharply across the floor.

Takumi Momose followed, hoodie drawn up, unreadable as ever.

Saku Mizuki came last, adjusting his glasses as the overhead lights glinted off the lenses.

The other Heavenly Kings.

They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to. Their presence alone was loud.

First came Tasuku Tsubakino, or Tsubaki-chan, swaying confidently with crimson earrings glinting and red lipstick perfectly untouched. “Chi-chan~!” he chimed, hands clasped dramatically. “My, you’ve grown! Still stubborn and sweet-faced.”

(A/N: I've been searching Tsubaki's official pronounce cause I might get hate if I didn't get it correctly but the author of the wind breaker said that they prefer Tsubaki's pronounce as "he/him"🙏 But it's up to others to whatsoever pronounces for our dear Tsubaki-chan as long as you guys being respectful to each other's opinions, I just want clear things up before you guys might attack me in the comments 🥹)

Chifuyu froze mid-movement.

Kaji caught it instantly. “Ignore them,” he said. “Focus.”

But it was hard.

Chifuyu could feel their eyes on him like weights.

Tsubaki tilted his head, arms crossed, red nails tapping rhythmically. “So that’s really him, huh?” he said, curiosity in his tone. “Still here. Still grinding. But he’s tight in the shoulders.”

“He’s trying,” Umemiya said, his voice calm. “That much is obvious.”

Takumi remained quiet, expression remain curious.

Saku pushed up his glasses. “He’s not bad.”

Hiragi took a step back, giving Chifuyu space. “Don’t let them get in your head. You’re not here for them. You’re here for you.”

Chifuyu’s fingers flexed. Kaji’s steady gaze met his.

Baji-san… Takemichi… the weight of everything he lost and everything he still carried—it had brought him to this moment.

He let the air out of his lungs.

“Again,” he said.

This time, his steps were sharper. His guard tighter. His mind—clearer.

And the other Kings of Furin watched silently from the sidelines.

Maybe judging.

Maybe impressed.

Furin High Gym – After Drills

The session ended with a final exhale. Chifuyu dropped to one knee, sweat dripping from his chin onto the polished floor. His limbs trembled—not from exhaustion, but from holding everything in.

The other Kings hadn’t left.

They were still watching.

And now, they moved.

Umemiya stepped forward first, hands still deep in his pockets. He stopped just a few feet away, casting a shadow over Chifuyu’s hunched form.

“You held up well,” he said. “Most kids break before the second round.”

Chifuyu glanced up, startled. “I… didn’t want to look weak.”

“That’s not the same as being strong.” Umemiya’s voice was calm, unjudging. “But it’s a start.”

Tsubaki followed with a graceful saunter, hands resting on his hips. His black-pink hair glowed under the gym lights, red lips curved into a sly smile.

“Your form’s still stiff,” he said bluntly, crouching in front of him. “But your eyes… they’re not scared. That counts, Chi-chan.” Tsubaki finally smiled softly.

Chifuyu opened his mouth to respond but hesitated. Tsubaki leaned closer.

“You really remind me of a stray cat, y'know. All claws, no direction. Keep going, and you might turn into something interesting.”

Behind them, Takumi hovered like a shadow, arms crossed, gaze unreadable.

He said nothing for a moment, then:

“You got hit a dozen times and still came back swinging. That’s annoying.”

“…Sorry?”

“It’s a compliment,” Kaji said dryly.

Saku Mizuki stepped up last, arms behind his back. His glasses reflected the overhead lights as he examined Chifuyu like a math problem.

“You listen. You adjust. But you overthink your movements,” he said crisply. “Start trusting your instincts more. They’re not bad.”

Chifuyu swallowed, still kneeling.

Hiragi nudged him lightly with a foot. “Well? You gonna sit there and soak in the praise or say something?”

Chifuyu looked up at all of them—Umemiya, Tsubaki, Takumi, Saku, Toma, Kaji—and something caught in his chest. All this time, he thought he was just rebuilding.

But maybe…

Maybe he was being seen.

“I won’t waste this,” he said quietly. “Not your time. Not the chance.”

Umemiya’s smile deepened. “Good.”

Tsubaki rose to his feet with a flourish. “Then prove it. Not just to us. To yourself.”

And with that, the Kings turned and made their way out of the gym, one by one.

Chifuyu stayed on the floor a moment longer, heartbeat finally slowing. Kaji handed him a towel, smirking faintly.

“You’re in now,” he said.

Chifuyu looked up, confused. “In what?”

Kaji turned toward the exit. “The spotlight. Better get used to it.”

---

Furin High – Behind the Gym, Just Before Sunset

The late afternoon sky had turned golden, the air thick with humidity and the quiet hum of cicadas. Chifuyu stood behind the gym building, water bottle in hand, trying to calm the thudding in his chest. The drills, the sparring, the scrutiny—it had all caught up to him.

He didn’t hear the footsteps until they were close.

“Still wound up?” came a voice—calm, deep, familiar.

Chifuyu turned.

Umemiya Hajime stood a few feet away, hands still in his pockets, his relaxed posture unchanged. His gaze was steady, but not unkind.

“Didn’t expect you to come talk to me,” Chifuyu admitted, swallowing hard.

“I didn’t expect you to last this long,” Umemiya replied, a small smile tugging at his lips. “But here we are.”

Chifuyu looked down at the ground, unsure what to say. “I know I’m not strong like the others.”

“Strength isn’t just about winning fights.” Umemiya’s voice didn’t waver. “It’s about not giving up when you’ve got every reason to.”

Chifuyu’s throat tightened.

“I wasn’t sure I could keep going, after what happened with Toman. After Baji-san…” he trailed off. “I thought I lost everything.”

Umemiya walked over slowly and sat on the low wall beside the gym, motioning for Chifuyu to sit too.

“Ren-kun told me some of it,” he said. “About what you carried.”

Chifuyu hesitated, then joined him, sitting stiffly.

“You’re not just training to fight,” Umemiya continued. “You’re trying to rebuild yourself. I get that.”

Chifuyu’s eyes stung suddenly. He blinked fast. “Do you think I belong here?”

Umemiya didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he looked out at the sky, the glow of the sunset reflecting in his eyes.

“You showed up every weekend. Trained until you collapsed. Got back up. That tells me more than your punches ever could.”

He glanced back at Chifuyu.

“You already belong. Whether you realize it or not.”

Chifuyu clenched his fists on his knees, his heart tight in his chest. That quiet affirmation, so simply said, cracked something open inside him.

“…Thank you,” he whispered.

Umemiya nodded once. “Don’t thank me yet.”

He stood, ruffling Chifuyu’s hair lightly—a rare gesture that startled him more than anything else.

“Get some rest. You’ll need it.”

Then he walked off, leaving Chifuyu alone with the last rays of the sun and a strange, blooming warmth in his chest.

—Furin territory–

Kaji Ren's Apartment – Night

In the quiet of their apartment, Kaji Ren sat on the couch, his eyes fixed on the magazine in front of him but his thoughts clearly elsewhere. Chifuyu leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping from a glass of water, his fingers absently tapping against the side. The air was thick with unspoken words, the weight of their individual burdens hanging between them.

Kaji finally broke the silence, his voice low but firm. "You’ve been quiet lately."

Chifuyu let out a short breath, setting the glass down. "Just... thinking."

"About what?" Kaji asked, his gaze lifting, studying Chifuyu with a hint of concern. He put down the magazine and shifted, his posture reflecting the seriousness of the moment.

Chifuyu hesitated, then slid his hands into his pockets, avoiding Kaji’s gaze. "About everything," he muttered. "The past. What I still carry with me."

Kaji didn't push, letting the pause stretch. He knew better than to rush him, but the silence was heavy, thick with the kind of pain he’d seen in Chifuyu’s eyes all these months. Finally, he spoke again, his tone softer. "You don’t need to carry it alone."

Chifuyu looked at him, his lips pressing into a thin line. "I know you’re always there, but..." His words faltered as if the weight of his own thoughts were too much to put into words.

Kaji stood and walked over to where Chifuyu stood, placing a hand on his shoulder in a rare moment of tenderness. "You’re not the same kid who showed up here a few months ago," he said, his voice steady. "I’ve seen you fight, seen you work through the pain. You’re stronger than you realize. And whatever’s eating at you? I’ll be here. Always."

Chifuyu let out a breath, the tightness in his chest loosening just a bit. His eyes dropped to Kaji’s hand on his shoulder, feeling the weight of the unspoken promise in that touch. "I’m just... tired of the ghosts," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "They don’t let me move forward."

Kaji gave him a small, reassuring squeeze. "Then let them go. You’re not that kid anymore. You’re Chifuyu Matsuno. You get to decide who you are now."

The words hung in the air, the quiet of the apartment amplifying their impact. Chifuyu took a long breath, nodding slowly, as if accepting something he hadn’t been ready to face before.

"Thanks," he said quietly, his voice softer than it had been in a long time.

Kaji smiled, his usual grin tugging at his lips. "Don’t mention it. Just keep moving forward. I’ve got your back."

Furin High Rooftop — Morning

It was a quiet morning on the rooftop, the sun filtering through the thin clouds, casting warm rays across the small garden. Chifuyu’s fingers moved carefully over the tomato vines and herbs, tending to Umemiya’s plants with the same deliberate care he’d always had for them. The peaceful rhythm of it helped him keep his mind from wandering too far, grounding him after the chaos he’d dealt with recently. The earthy smell of the soil, the softness of the green leaves—it all felt reassuring, like a temporary escape from the mess of his life.

He had just finished watering the plants when the sound of footsteps reached his ears—slow, cautious, like someone who didn’t want to disturb the calm but was still determined to be noticed. Chifuyu didn’t even have to look up to know who it was. The vibe of Furin’s first years was unmistakable, and this one in particular had a presence that was impossible to ignore.

A figure appeared in his peripheral vision, tall and lean, the black and white Furin uniform fitting him like it was made for him. Long blue hair framed his face, and Chifuyu blinked, recognizing him. Sugishita Kyotaro, if memory served. The kid wasn’t particularly social, and from what Chifuyu had seen, he didn’t seem keen on making friends with anyone.

'He kinda looks like Baji-san..'

Sugishita stopped a few paces away from Chifuyu, not moving forward or backward, as if carefully considering something. His brown eyes were fixed on Chifuyu, studying him with an unreadable intensity.

Chifuyu raised an eyebrow, his usual smirk curling at the edge of his lips. "Can I help you with something?" he asked dryly, the question hanging in the air between them. He didn’t expect much from this interaction—Sugishita didn’t seem like the type to engage in small talk.

After a moment, Sugishita spoke, his voice quiet but firm. "You’re the one who’s always with Umemiya-san."

Chifuyu blinked, caught off guard by the directness. "I guess," he said with a shrug, not particularly wanting to elaborate. "What about it?"

Sugishita’s gaze didn’t waver as he continued, "I’ve heard things about you. You’re the one who saved Nirei, right?"

The mention of Nirei surprised Chifuyu. That wasn’t something he’d considered worth talking about. "Yeah, I helped him out with a few guys, but I’m not some hero," he replied, wiping his hands on his pants as he stood straighter. His usual detachment was back, a practiced mask hiding his true feelings.

Sugishita’s eyes flickered, narrowing ever so slightly, before he spoke again, quieter this time. "I don’t care about heroes," he muttered, almost under his breath. His attention shifted back to Chifuyu. "But Umemiya-san trusts you."

The unexpected respect in Sugishita’s voice caught Chifuyu off guard. He had never pegged the first-year for someone who would be so considerate, much less express it out loud.

"You know Umemiya-san well?" Chifuyu asked, his curiosity piqued. He wasn’t sure if he was being cautious or genuinely interested now.

Sugishita’s expression hardened just a fraction. "I’ve seen him... since childhood. He’s someone I respect."

There was an intensity to Sugishita’s words that made Chifuyu pause. The way he spoke about Umemiya wasn’t just casual admiration—it felt like something more. But Chifuyu had learned not to judge so quickly. If Sugishita had respect for Umemiya, he could at least understand that.

"He’s got his hands full with these plants," Chifuyu said, trying to deflect with a bit of dry humor, "So don’t expect much out of him."

Sugishita’s gaze lingered on him for a moment, his eyes intense as ever. "You’re different," he said suddenly.

"Different?" Chifuyu raised an eyebrow, taken aback. "How?"

Sugishita didn’t immediately respond, his eyes flickering to the plants for a moment, as if trying to find the right words. "You’re not like the others," he muttered, his tone almost contemplative.

Chifuyu opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by a familiar voice.

"Sugishita!" It was Anzai, his voice a mix of concern and surprise. "What are you doing here? You know the rooftop’s off-limits for first-years unless it's a meeting."

Sugishita turned his head toward Anzai, his expression softening slightly, though still retaining its usual coolness. "I’m not ‘wandering.’ I’m checking on the plants," he replied flatly, though there was the faintest hint of humor in his voice.

Anzai blinked in confusion, then glanced between Chifuyu and Sugishita. "Wait, plants? Who’s...?" He trailed off, realizing who they were talking about. "Oh. Umemiya-san’s plants, right?"

Sugishita gave a small nod, though his gaze stayed fixed on Chifuyu for just a moment longer. "Yeah. I was just making sure they’re alright."

Chifuyu, a small smirk playing at the corners of his lips, looked at Sugishita, then back at Anzai. "Didn’t realize you were so invested in Umemiya-san’s garden," he remarked, his tone teasing but not unkind.

Sugishita shot him a sharp glance, his expression as unreadable as ever. For a fleeting second, Chifuyu thought he saw a blush creeping across his face, but it was gone so quickly he couldn’t be sure.

"Maybe you’re not as bad as the rumors say," Chifuyu muttered to himself, more out of curiosity than anything else. Sugishita had certainly thrown him off balance—he hadn’t expected the first-year to be anything but standoffish, but there was clearly more to him than met the eye.

Sugishita didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he gave a brief nod, his stoic expression falling back into place.

"Take care of Umemiya-san’s plants," he said, his tone serious, as if it were a command. "He’ll want them in good condition."

Without waiting for a response, Sugishita turned and walked off, his long blue hair swishing behind him as he disappeared from sight. Chifuyu watched him go, a strange curiosity gnawing at him. There was definitely more to Sugishita than he let on—of that, Chifuyu was certain.

"Well, that was... weird," Chifuyu muttered under his breath, shaking his head. He returned to watering the plants, the sound of his footsteps the only thing that filled the silence, leaving the rooftop once again peaceful, yet subtly charged with something new.

The rooftop was quiet again—at least for five minutes. Chifuyu crouched by the herb boxes, checking the base of a tomato plant when the door creaked open behind him.

“I swear to god, if this is another weird first-year with a god complex—”

“Oi! That better not be about me, blondie.”

Chifuyu sighed, already recognizing the sharp voice. “Tch. I don’t need to say names when your ego does the shouting for you, Sakura-san.”

Sakura strode across the rooftop, his green pants slightly scuffed and his hands stuffed into his pockets like he had better things to do. He looked utterly unimpressed—though Chifuyu would bet good money he came here just to start something.

Behind him came Nirei, wide-eyed and clearly not prepared for another rooftop disaster. He clutched a convenience store bag like it was a peace offering. “Uhh, maybe we can all just… talk nicely today?” he offered weakly.

And last, calm as a breeze, was Suo—his long legs leisurely carrying him forward, one hand in his pocket, the other adjusting the yellow tassel of his earring. “Ah, the rooftop garden,” he said with a soft smile. “So peaceful. Until it isn’t.”

Chifuyu stood up, brushing off his hands. “I knew it got too quiet.”

Sakura crossed his arms. “You looked like you were gonna melt into the dirt. What are you, a plant whisperer now?”

“At least I do something useful with my hands instead of standing around mouthing off all day,” Chifuyu shot back with a smirk.

Sakura scowled. “Screw you.”

“In your dreams.”

“Guys!” Nirei yelped, flailing the bag in between them. “Please! I brought melon pan! Let’s not start World War III over tomatoes!”

Chifuyu and Sakura glared at each other for a beat longer before Suo stepped in, lightly resting a palm on Nirei’s head. “Don’t worry, Nirei. It’s not war. This is foreplay.”

“SUO!” Nirei squeaked, face red as the tomatoes.

"Hah? What's a foreplay?!" Chifuyu shrieked, very bothered by the word that Suo spats out.

Sakura turned even redder than Nirei, slightly disgusted, pointing a finger at Suo. “Say that again and I’m kicking you off the roof.”

Suo only laughed softly, his usual serene smile never slipping. “I’m just saying what we’re all thinking.”

“We are NOT—!” Sakura stopped himself, realizing how loud his voice got. He folded his arms with a huff and turned his back on the group. “Whatever. I only came to check on the plants. Someone’s gotta make sure you’re not overwatering them.”

“Wow. That sounds suspiciously like caring,” Chifuyu muttered, pretending to be shocked.

“Fight me.”

Suo chuckled again. Nirei shoved the melon pan into Chifuyu’s hands and turned to Suo in desperation. “Please, please distract them or they’ll actually fight. Or flirt. I don’t know which is worse.”

Chifuyu took a bite of the bread and shrugged. “Could be worse. Could be Sugishita guy again.”

Sakura turned around, stiff. “What does that guy want from you, anyway?”

Chifuyu gave him a lazy smile. “Jealous, two-toned princess?”

“Not in a million years!”

Suo, now leaning against the rooftop railing, watched the whole exchange like it was his favorite TV show. “This rooftop’s become more entertaining than any soap opera.”

Nirei groaned. “I’m never bringing snacks up here again.”

But even as they bickered and complained, the rooftop felt a little warmer—louder, yes—but strangely alive.

Just as the bickering began to ebb and a fragile truce settled over the group, Chifuyu knelt back down, reaching for a small clay pot that housed one of Umemiya’s prized basil plants. “This one needs repotting soon,” he muttered to himself, carefully lifting it to check the roots.

“I could do that,” Sakura said casually, crouching beside him with a challenging grin. “Not like it takes much skill.”

Chifuyu gave him a side-eye. “With your track record? The only thing you’ve ever successfully repotted was your own bad attitude.”

Sakura bristled. “You wanna go, blondie?”

“Oh my god,” Nirei whimpered, turning away in stress. “Why is this every day now—?”

Suo hummed serenely, clearly enjoying himself. “It’s called bonding, Nirei-kun. Very intense bonding.”

Sakura, muttering under his breath, reached for a nearby potted plant to prove a point. “Look, you just grab it from the base like—"

“Sakura, don’t—” Chifuyu started, too late.

With a CRACK, the pot slipped from Sakura’s hands, hit the rooftop floor, and shattered, sending dirt scattering across the ground.

Everyone froze.

Chifuyu stared at the carnage. Suo’s smile widened slightly. Nirei inhaled so sharply it sounded like a scream trapped in his lungs.

Sakura blinked. “…That wasn’t me.”

“It was literally you,” Chifuyu said flatly, his voice already rising. “That was Umemiya-san’s peppermint. Do you even understand what you’ve done?!”

“It was defective! It jumped!” Sakura snapped, pointing at the broken pieces like they had betrayed him.

“You absolute gremlin—!” Chifuyu lunged, not to fight, but to salvage the roots, his hands flying over the dirt. “This plant had a name, you plant murderer!”

“YOU NAMED THE PLANT?”

“Pep-chan was innocent!”

Nirei dropped to his knees beside them, panicking. “Oh no no no—can we glue it back together?! Plants can heal, right?! Like lizards?!”

Suo wandered over leisurely, crouching beside Chifuyu with a thoughtful hum. “Well, the stem’s intact, and I believe you can re-root peppermint cuttings with water and care.” He tilted his head at Sakura. “You’re lucky it’s peppermint and not Umemiya’s sakura bonsai. He might’ve buried you with it.”

Sakura, now half-panicking and half-defensive, sputtered, “I didn’t mean to break the stupid thing!”

“Tell that to Pep-chan’s ghost.”

Sakura hissed like a cornered cat. “Shut up!”

“Enough!” Chifuyu held up the broken stalk like a tragic relic. “We can save it. But from now on, no one touches the plants without supervision. Especially you.”

Sakura crossed his arms and glared off to the side. “Fine. Next time I’ll break something on purpose.”

“You already broke my faith in your coordination,” Chifuyu deadpanned.

Suo chuckled. Nirei, now cradling the cracked pot like a lost child, sniffled dramatically. “We’ll never forget you, Pep-chan…”

And despite the broken pot, the dirt-streaked tiles, and Sakura loudly threatening violence while Chifuyu muttered about “first-year disasters,” the rooftop was filled with something warm. Chaotic. Alive.

Just the way Umemiya probably wanted it.

---

The rooftop had almost returned to order.

Chifuyu had repotted Pep-chan—what remained of it anyway—into a new pot Suo had calmly fetched from the storage shelf. Nirei was sweeping the scattered dirt with a broken broom. Sakura was sulking in a corner, arms crossed and refusing to look at anyone. Suo had declared the whole event “a valuable learning experience” and was now seated on a ledge, watching the others like a teacher observing chaos for fun.

Everything was just barely under control… until the door creaked open.

All four of them froze.

Umemiya Hajime stepped onto the rooftop, a bag of fertilizer slung over one shoulder and his usual calm aura in full force.

“Oh, hey,” he said, his gaze moving across the scene. “I thought I’d check on the tomatoes—”

He paused. His eyes landed on:

•A suspiciously pristine peppermint plant in a different pot

•A broom missing half its bristles

•Sakura facing the wall like a punished cat

•Chifuyu with dirt up his sleeves

•Nirei holding the broken pot behind his back like it was contraband

“…Did something happen?” Umemiya asked, his voice as mild as ever—but with that slight edge of intuition that made the whole group stiffen.

Chifuyu was the first to recover. He stood up straight, brushed his hands off, and said, “Nope. Just a normal afternoon.”

“Nothing happened,” Sakura added too quickly, still not facing him.

“I didn’t even cry this time,” Nirei mumbled behind his back, trying to slowly edge the broken pieces into his jacket like that would somehow hide them.

Umemiya blinked. “Did... one of the pots break?”

Suo, still lounging on the ledge, smiled pleasantly. “Technically, yes.”

“Technically—” Chifuyu interrupted, scowling at him. “Technically it was an accident, and it’s already fixed, so there’s no need for concern or, say, an interrogation or a lecture.”

Sakura finally turned around, clearly flustered. “Look, it’s not like I meant to kill your plant.”

“You named it?” Umemiya asked, looking to Chifuyu.

Chifuyu crossed his arms. “Pep-chan deserved dignity.”

“Rest in peppermints,” Nirei whispered dramatically.

Umemiya slowly took this all in, a deep breath rising in his chest. Then—

He smiled.

Not the polite, calm smile he usually wore—but something softer, amused, maybe even fond.

“I’m glad you’re all looking after the garden,” he said finally. “Even if it’s...chaotic.”

Everyone blinked.

“That’s it?” Chifuyu asked, genuinely confused. “No lecture?”

Umemiya shrugged. “Plants break. They grow back. And if Pep-chan didn’t make it, I’m sure she’d want you to take care of her siblings.” He moved over to the tomato vines, checking the leaves. “Though next time, maybe no martial arts demonstrations near the herbs.”

Sakura grumbled. “It wasn’t martial arts…”

“Still,” Umemiya added, “thanks for trying.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Nirei exhaled in pure relief, Suo smiled to himself, Sakura scoffed like he didn’t care anyway, and Chifuyu turned away so no one could see the weird flutter of warmth in his chest.

Because somehow, this strange mess of a group… was starting to feel like something real.

The rooftop was quiet again.

The warmth of late afternoon clung gently to the air, a soft golden hue painting the sky as the sun dipped low behind the buildings. Faint streaks of orange and rose dusted the clouds. The breeze rustled through the tomato vines and peppermint leaves, carrying the scent of soil and something faintly sweet.

Chifuyu stood alone now, the others having wandered off—Suo after collecting the last of the tools, Sakura sulking but ultimately gone, Nirei trailing after them with an armful of ceramic shards and flustered apologies. Even the lingering tension had faded, replaced by silence.

He leaned against the railing, gaze lifted to the sky.

Baji-san... I made friends here.

The thought came unbidden, soft but firm, carried on the fading warmth of the sun.

I hope you’re recovering well.

A small sigh escaped him. The silence made it easier for his thoughts to resurface—the ones he kept buried during the day, hidden under schoolwork, gang shifts, and rooftop chaos. He remembered his conversation with Takemichi.

The wild, unbelievable truth about time travel. Time leaping. Futures rewritten.

He'd laughed mentally at first. Then he’d looked into Takemichi’s eyes and seen the weight behind the words.

His hand tightened around the railing.

So much had happened. So much had been lost. And for too long, Chifuyu had been running—hiding behind Ren’s protection, burying his pain under duty, trying to forget Tokyo’s blood-soaked shadows.

But I had enough of running away.

The sky darkened slowly, the light shifting from gold to deeper orange. Chifuyu’s face, once soft in thought, hardened with purpose.

I’ll help Takemichi.

From now on, I won’t cower behind Ren’s back.

He stood taller, the wind brushing through his blond hair, as if the rooftop itself acknowledged his resolve.

Then—

Footsteps echoed behind him.

He turned, half-ready to brush off whoever it was, but paused when he saw the tall figure with relaxed posture and a familiar smile.

“Umemiya-san,” Chifuyu greeted with a respectful nod.

“You’re still here, huh?” Umemiya raised a brow, slinging a bag over his shoulder casually. “How about I treat you to dinner? Feels like you’ve earned it from taking care of my plants.”

Chifuyu blinked, caught off-guard. “Huh? I—uh, sure…”

---

The sun slipped behind the horizon as they made their way through Furin’s streets, the air cooling, shadows stretching long. Chifuyu sent a quick message to his cousin:

"I’ll be home late. Going out with Umemiya-san."

The café glowed warmly against the deepening night—Pothos Café, a quiet place nestled between buildings, cozy and known mostly to locals. Its wide windows showed a few customers scattered inside, warm lighting catching off hanging plants and glossy tabletops.

As they pushed the door open, a cheerful voice called out before they could even get to the counter.

“Kotoha-chan~ you won’t believe who I brought today!” Umemiya sing-songed with playful flourish.

Behind the counter, a young woman with neatly styled burgundy hair looked up, her expression flat with long-suffering familiarity. “Who is it now, Ume?”

Then her eyes fell on the blond teenager beside him.

Her face lit up instantly. “Chifuyu!? It’s you? It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

Chifuyu’s eyes widened in brief surprise, but then he smiled, bowing politely. “It’s been a while, Tachibana-san. Sorry for disturbing so late.”

She waved her hand with a laugh. “Didn’t I tell you to just call me Kotoha?”

“Uhm, yes,” he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as Umemiya let out a loud laugh beside him.

Kotoha ushered them to a booth near the window, flicking two menus open with flair and sliding them onto the table.

“Same usual for you, Ume?” she asked, already turning toward the kitchen.

“Yeah, yeah. You know me, Kotoha-chan,” Umemiya grinned, already leaning back in the booth like he owned the place. “And bring the kid something good—he’s been working hard.”

“I can tell,” Kotoha said over her shoulder, smirking at Chifuyu as she disappeared into the back.

Chifuyu sat awkwardly across from Umemiya, still a little stiff, not quite sure how to sit in a place that felt both foreign and weirdly familiar. The café had the warm, lived-in vibe of a place loved by a small, loyal crowd—warm yellow lights, plants hanging lazily from the shelves, and a faint scent of fresh basil and coffee.

“So,” Umemiya began, resting his chin in his palm. “You and Sakura really go at it, huh?”

Chifuyu blinked. “What?”

Umemiya chuckled. “That whole rooftop chaos earlier. Poor Nirei-kun nearly cried.”

Chifuyu flushed slightly. “Sakura-san just—he picks fights. I don’t start it.”

“You finish it, though.” Umemiya smirked.

Before Chifuyu could argue, Kotoha returned with their drinks. She set a milk tea in front of Chifuyu with a sly smile. “Still like sweet things, huh?”

Chifuyu blinked. “How did you—”

“You’re Kaji-kun’s cousin. And you used to beg for strawberry daifuku from the corner stall after karate practice, remember?”

His ears turned a bit red.

“Kaji-kun always said you’d act all cool until someone offered you sweets,” Kotoha added, sipping her own drink.

“I was nine,” Chifuyu muttered.

“Still true now,” she teased.

Umemiya laughed so hard he nearly choked on his iced tea.

Chifuyu gave them both a flat look, but there was no real heat in it. If anything, he looked quietly overwhelmed by the familiarity of it all.

Kotoha wiped her hands on a towel, stepping out from behind the counter. “Be comfortable anywhere you like. I’ll bring the usual for you, Ume.” Then she glanced at Chifuyu with a grin. “And for you… still picky about onions?”

Chifuyu blinked in surprise. “You… remember that?”

She laughed. “Of course I do! You nearly cried that one time there were onions in the curry.”

Umemiya choked back a laugh. “No way.”

Chifuyu flushed. “I did not cry. I just—hiccupped!”

Kotoha leaned on the table between them, resting her chin on her hand as she smiled teasingly. “You were like eleven, Fuyu. It was adorable.”

“D-don’t call me Fuyu…”

“Why not?” she said sweetly. “It suits you. Ume calls you 'Fuyu-chin'”

Umemiya nodded solemnly. “Fuyu-chin sound cute.”

“Not you too!” Chifuyu slumped forward onto the table, his ears bright red. “I came here for dinner, not to be roasted alive…”

Kotoha laughed again and turned to the kitchen. “I’ll whip something up—don’t run away while I’m cooking, okay?”

Chifuyu raised a hand limply in surrender as she vanished behind the curtain.

Once the teasing atmosphere settled and the scent of grilled chicken began wafting from the kitchen, Umemiya leaned back in his seat. He regarded Chifuyu in that calm, steady way of his—one that made you feel like he’d seen through most of your thoughts already, but didn’t feel the need to say so.

“You looked more at peace just now,” he said, voice low and casual.

Chifuyu blinked, caught off guard again. “I did?”

“Yeah,” Umemiya said, folding his arms behind his head. “You’re usually so stiff. Like you’re waiting for the next punch to come flying.”

Chifuyu was silent for a long moment.

“…It’s hard not to be,” he admitted finally. “There’s been a lot going on. Some stuff I can’t even explain to people. I guess I’ve… gotten used to keeping my guard up.”

Umemiya nodded once. “That’s fair. But you know… it’s okay to have people to lean on. Even if it’s just for a meal. Or a joke. Or a dumb nickname.”

Chifuyu chuckled weakly. “Fuyu, huh…”

“Hey,” Umemiya said more seriously. “I don’t know what’s weighing on you. But I know strength doesn’t mean handling it all alone. You’re not in Tokyo right now. You’ve got new people around you now. Let them in, little by little.”

Chifuyu glanced at him—at the gentle smile, the way Umemiya didn’t pry, just offered space.

“…I’m trying,” he said quietly.

“That’s enough,” Umemiya replied. “Trying’s already strong.”

Umemiya waited until the clatter of pans faded again before speaking.

“You look like you needed this,” he said, quieter now. “Not just the food. The people.”

Chifuyu stared into his tea.

“Ren-kun’s told me bits,” Umemiya continued. “About Tokyo. About that guy you were close with. What happened to your old gang.”

Chifuyu tensed.

“I’m not trying to dig it all up,” Umemiya said gently. “But I know the look of someone carrying too much. And trying to act like they’re fine.”

Chifuyu looked up, sea-blue eyes guarded.

“You don’t have to carry all of it alone, y’know?” Umemiya’s smile softened, not the usual teasing grin, but something steadier. “You’ve got people here. Furin. Ren-kun. Me. Even Sakura, in his cute tsundere way.”

Chifuyu huffed faintly at that.

“We’re not Toman,” Umemiya went on, “but… we’re not nothing either. Don’t act like this is just a stop on your way back to pain.”

Chifuyu’s throat tightened slightly.

At that moment, Kotoha emerged with two steaming plates. “Alright, food’s up! No onions for our little Fuyu.”

Chifuyu groaned.

But he couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips.

The food arrived then—Kotoha placing a steaming plate of omurice in front of him with a flourish, and a huge pasta dish for Umemiya.

She looked between them curiously, sensing the shift in the air. “You two talking about deep life stuff already?”

“Trying to,” Umemiya shrugged.

Chifuyu smiled faintly. “It’s working.”

The café had quieted into a cozy lull, the golden light from the hanging bulbs casting a soft glow across the wooden walls and steaming plates. Outside, the sky had melted into deep indigo, stars just beginning to prick the darkening canvas. Inside, the clink of utensils was soft and rhythmic—until Chifuyu set down his spoon with a soft clatter.

“Umemiya-san…” he began, voice barely above a murmur.

Umemiya glanced up, his chopsticks paused midair.

“I’ve made up my mind,” Chifuyu said, sitting straighter in his chair. The determination in his eyes cut through the fatigue and doubt he’d been carrying like a second skin. “I want to go back to Tokyo. I want to help my friends.”

For a moment, the older man didn’t speak. He blinked once, then again. A slow, knowing smile tugged at the corners of his mouth—one of quiet pride, not surprise.

“Really?” he said softly, placing his chopsticks down. “Then you’ve grown well, Chifuyu.”

The name struck gently, unexpectedly.

Chifuyu blinked. It wasn’t Fuyu-chin. Not a tease. Not a nickname. Just his name, spoken with calm respect.

He swallowed, something tightening in his chest.

“I expected this,” Umemiya continued, leaning back in his seat, arms folded across his chest. His voice remained steady, though a flicker of something tender crossed his expression. “I didn’t think you’d stay here in Makochi forever.”

Chifuyu looked down at his lap, unsure what to say, but Umemiya went on.

“I won’t lie, part of me wishes you’d stay. You’ve brought good energy to this place. You’ve grown. You’ve softened. But…” he smiled faintly, eyes meeting Chifuyu’s. “It’d be selfish of me to hold you back. Especially if your heart’s already in Tokyo, fighting for people you care about.”

Chifuyu opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. His fingers tightened against his thighs.

“Yosh!” Umemiya suddenly declared, rising slightly as he reached into the canvas bag beside his chair. “Then it’s a good thing I brought this with me today.”

He rummaged for a moment, then pulled out a neatly folded cloth—a jacket. He placed it gently on the table, sliding it across to Chifuyu.

Chifuyu hesitated, then reached out. The moment his fingers touched the fabric, he froze. His breath hitched.

It was a green gakuran jacket—clean, well-stitched embroidery in the collar and both sleeves, the distinct hue instantly recognizable. Furin’s colors.

There were no striped lines at the left side sleeve, a sign he wasn’t officially a high schooler. But none of that mattered in the moment.

“This…” Chifuyu whispered, his hands beginning to tremble as they held the jacket to his chest. “I’m not even a student… Umemiya-san…”

“I know,” Umemiya said gently, smiling with a quiet warmth that settled deep into Chifuyu’s bones. “But it’s not about being a student. This jacket… is to remind you that you’re part of us now.”

Umemiya leaned forward, voice quiet but strong. “Even if you’re not officially enrolled, you’ve earned this. You’ve trained with us. You’ve fought with us. You’ve bled for us.” His tone softened, a rare warmth threading into it. “You’re part of Boufurin now, Fuyu-chin. Family.”

Chifuyu’s chest caved in with the weight of the moment. The air around him felt too full—of gratitude, of sadness, of something he hadn’t let himself feel in a long time: belonging.

He stared at the jacket, his eyes burning. His voice came out as a whisper, broken and soft.

“…Thank you, Umemiya-san.”

Umemiya simply nodded, the silence between them now rich with unspoken understanding. Outside, the stars blinked quietly, and the night carried their resolve into the distance.

---

The night air was cool by the time they left the café, the streets quiet except for the occasional hum of passing cars and distant chatter. Standing beneath a flickering streetlight, Chifuyu turned to face Umemiya.

Then, without hesitation, he bowed—deeply, a full 90 degrees, his arms stiff at his sides and the Furin jacket clutched tight to his chest.

“Thank you for everything,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a rare sincerity that lingered in the silence between them.

Umemiya blinked, then let out a breath of amusement and waved a hand, as though brushing away the formality. “Don’t get too stiff on me now, Fuyu-chin,” he said with a grin, already turning to walk away, one hand raised in a lazy goodbye. “Come back stronger next time!”

Chifuyu straightened up slowly, watching him go, the warmth of the moment settling deep into his chest like embers.

---

By the time Chifuyu stepped into the apartment, the scent of miso soup and grilled fish still lingered faintly in the air. He blinked in surprise when Kaji’s mother appeared at the hallway entrance, tying her apron around her waist.

“Ah! Chifuyu-chan, welcome home!” she beamed warmly, brushing her hair back. “Ren-chan’s been waiting for you to eat with him.”

Chifuyu blinked, then forced a small smile as guilt gnawed gently at his gut. His stomach was full from the café dinner, but the thought of Kaji waiting was enough to make his heart ache. “You’re going back to work, Auntie? This late?”

She nodded, already slipping on her coat. “Yes, yes. The hospital’s been short-staffed again, so I’m pulling another overnight shift. Be good, okay? And tell Ren-chan I love him!” she called, already heading toward the door.

Chifuyu watched her go, the latch clicking softly behind her, then turned toward the dining table.

Kaji was there, seated with a pair of chopsticks in his hand, a plate of untouched food in front of him. He didn’t look up.

“You’re late,” Kaji said flatly.

Chifuyu opened his mouth to apologize, but Kaji’s sharp eyes had already flicked down to the green jacket cradled in his arms. His expression didn’t change, but something flickered in his gaze.

“…He gave it to you, then?”

Chifuyu’s eyes widened. “You knew!?”

Kaji gave a slow shrug, stabbing a piece of tofu with his chopsticks. “Everyone knew. Umemiya-san told us his plan days ago.”

Chifuyu stepped closer, setting the jacket carefully over the back of a chair as he sat down across from Kaji. He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. “I didn’t think it’d hit this hard…”

Kaji didn’t respond immediately. He ate in silence for a moment, then set his chopsticks down with a soft clack. His gaze softened.

“You really decided, huh?”

Chifuyu nodded slowly. “Yeah. I can’t keep hiding. I want to help Takemichi… and the others. I want to face what I ran away from.”

Kaji leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable for a long stretch of silence.

“You know,” he finally said, voice quieter, “when you first came here, you looked like someone who’d forgotten how to breathe.”

Chifuyu blinked, startled.

“You were quiet, polite, distant, tried not to bother anyone. But you always had this look… like you were afraid to exist too loudly,” Kaji continued. “But now you sit there talking about going back. Helping your friends. Standing up for something again.”

He looked away, hiding the faint tension in his jaw.

“…I’m glad you're finding yourself again. But I’ll miss you, you idiot.”

Chifuyu stared, throat tightening unexpectedly.

“You’re not mad?”

Kaji snorted. “I was. A little. But then I remembered who you are. And I’d be madder if you didn’t go.”

A silence hung between them, heavy but warm. Chifuyu leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table.

“I’m really lucky I had you, Ren,” he said quietly.

Kaji’s ears turned a little pink. “Yeah, well. Try not to die before you write to me, dumbass.”

Chifuyu laughed, watery and small, but real.

He didn’t say it—but in his heart, he knew: this moment, this connection, would stay with him no matter how far Tokyo was.

---

Two Days Later — Morning Light in Makochi

“This is the last one,” Chifuyu murmured, his fingers brushing over the folded green jacket resting on his bed. The weight of the fabric felt heavier today—like it had absorbed every memory of the past weeks. He stared at it for a long moment, his chest tightening, but warm.

He blinked, steadying his breath, then gently set the jacket inside his open duffel bag.

Just then—

“Chifuyu, you’ve got guests!” Kaji’s voice rang out from the living room.

“Coming!” he called back, zipping the bag halfway shut. He took one last glance around the room—his borrowed sanctuary—before stepping out, his expression unreadable, eyes shining faintly with emotion.

As he turned the corner, he paused.

There they were. Sprawled comfortably across the small living room couch like they owned the place: Suo, composed as ever with his usual pleasant smile; Nirei, nervously fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve; and Sakura, arms crossed and foot tapping, visibly irritated.

Chifuyu blinked. “…You guys?”

Sakura spotted him first, his heterochromatic eyes narrowing. “Oh, look. The traitor finally comes out of his little cave.”

Chifuyu’s brow twitched. “What is your problem again!?”

From the kitchen, Kaji’s head peeked around the corner, a dish towel slung over his shoulder. “Hey! No fighting in this house,” he warned, eyes narrowing before he disappeared again into the clatter of breakfast prep.

Suo chuckled lightly, clearly enjoying the tension. “Don’t mind Sakura-kun, Chifuyu-kun. He’s just been fuming since we only found out you were leaving from Umemiya-san’s text.”

Chifuyu blinked, guilt creeping into his chest like cold water. “Oh… I didn’t tell you guys, did I…”

“You worried us, Chifuyu-san!” Nirei blurted, looking unusually serious. “You weren’t on the rooftop or anywhere in the school building for two days! We tried texting, calling—but nothing. We had to message Umemiya-san just to know what happened…”

Nirei trailed off, wringing his hands.

Suo let out a sigh, folding one leg over the other as he leaned back. “Sakura-kun thought you had run off. Vanished. So we followed him here to make sure.”

Sakura clicked his tongue and looked away, clearly still annoyed but not denying it.

Chifuyu looked at each of them, speechless for a moment. These ridiculous, persistent, and weirdly dependable idiots had come all the way just to check on him.

“…I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice gentler. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just… I needed time to make the decision myself.”

Sakura glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “You could’ve just said something, dumbass.”

“I know,” Chifuyu admitted.

For a moment, there was silence. Then Suo smiled again, this time a little softer.

“Well, since we’re here, shall we say our goodbyes properly?”

Chifuyu swallowed thickly. The sun outside filtered through the curtains, painting warm lines across the room—and his heart felt heavier than it had all week.

Suo stood up first, brushing imaginary dust from his uniform slacks. He approached Chifuyu with his usual serene grace, a small smile playing on his lips.

“You know,” he began, voice calm but sincere, “I didn’t expect to get close to someone like you. At first, you seemed like a quiet storm—kept to yourself, always lost in thought. But you turned out to be someone we all naturally gathered around.”

Chifuyu looked down, unsure how to respond.

Suo extended a hand. “It was brief, but meaningful. I hope Tokyo treats you kindly. And if it doesn’t, well—” his smile widened slightly, “—you know where to run back to.”

Chifuyu shook his hand, gripping it a little tighter than necessary. “Thanks, Suo-san. For everything.”

Next was Nirei, who stood up hesitantly, eyes already glossy. He stepped forward with small, careful movements like he was afraid this would make everything real.

“I… I don’t do goodbyes well,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “But I just want you to know that you made me feel brave, Chifuyu-san. I was always scared of being overlooked or not strong enough. But you… you treated me like I belonged.”

Chifuyu’s heart ached as he opened his arms—and Nirei didn’t hesitate to hug him tightly. He trembled slightly in Chifuyu’s arms.

“You’re more than enough, Nirei-san,” Chifuyu said, gently patting his back. “Don’t ever doubt that.”

Nirei stepped back, wiping his eyes. “Come back and visit, okay?”

Chifuyu nodded firmly.

Last was Sakura. He hadn’t moved from the couch. Arms crossed. Eyes cold. But there was a strange shine in them now.

“…You could’ve told us,” Sakura muttered, not looking at him. “I thought we were, well... your friends. Not just… people passing through your life.”

“I know,” Chifuyu said quietly. “I messed up.”

Sakura stood, almost reluctantly. His voice was sharper than the others’, but under the bite, it trembled.

“You’re an idiot. You talk about being strong but still carry everything by yourself. You act like running back to Tokyo is brave, but it’s not—because you were already brave here.”

Chifuyu blinked at him, stunned.

Sakura finally looked up. “So don’t act like you’re leaving broken. You’re not. You’re leaving better.”

Chifuyu’s lips parted, words caught in his throat. He stepped forward—and to his surprise, Sakura was the one who reached out first, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him into a clumsy, awkward half-hug that lingered longer than either expected.

“I hate goodbyes,” Sakura muttered against his shoulder. “So don’t make this one.”

Chifuyu swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. “It’s not. I’ll come back. I promise.”

When they finally stepped apart, Suo clapped his hands lightly. “Well, shall we go before Sakura actually cries?”

“I’m not crying!” Sakura snapped.

Chifuyu laughed, tears shining in his eyes now too.

As the three headed to the door, Suo paused and glanced back. “You’re going to do great things, Chifuyu-kun. Go protect your other friends. We’ll hold things down here.”

And just like that, they were gone—leaving behind warmth, grief, and something golden in Chifuyu’s chest.

Not an ending. Just a beginning.

---

The door clicked softly shut behind them. The sound echoed through the apartment like the final note of a song.

Chifuyu stood there for a moment, still facing the entrance, as if expecting one of them to suddenly rush back in with something left unsaid. But the silence held.

He exhaled shakily.

His footsteps were slow as he returned to his room, the weight of the folded jacket tucked under his arm grounding him. When he sat down on the edge of his bed, he didn’t move for a while. The dim orange glow of the setting sun streamed through the window, painting golden stripes across the floor and walls — like the warmth of something that refused to disappear.

He reached into his bag and pulled out the Furin jacket. His fingers traced the fabric reverently, thumb brushing along the collar, then the hem. There were no stripes on the left sleeve. He was still a middle schooler. Still in between places, in between lives. But the jacket already felt like it fit.

It wasn't just cloth. It was proof. Of his time here. Of the people who took him in when he was falling apart.

He pressed it to his chest and let his head fall forward.

They’d accepted him. Umemiya's warm smile. Suo’s quiet assurance. Nirei’s heartfelt honesty. Sakura’s difficult, reluctant affection. Even Kaji’s quiet, constant support.

Chifuyu swallowed hard, blinking rapidly, until the tears welled too high to hold back. A few rolled down, silent streaks down his cheeks. Not out of sorrow, but gratitude.

“I won’t forget,” he whispered.

Then he looked toward the window, where the sun was dipping low, burning red over the edge of the mountains. The same sun that would rise over Tokyo tomorrow.

“I’m not running anymore.”

---

The platform wasn’t crowded, but it was loud enough to feel alive. The sound of trains coming and going, announcements echoing from the speakers, and the murmur of conversations filled the air. The breeze tugged gently at Chifuyu’s sleeves, cooler now that the sun had dipped behind the hills.

Kaji stood beside him, hands buried in his pockets, a lollipop stick bobbing slightly between his lips. His eyes, usually unreadable, flicked sideways to look at Chifuyu.

"You sure you won't regret it?" he asked, voice low but steady.

Chifuyu turned to him, his expression calm but clear. “You know,” Kaji continued, his voice lighter, almost teasing, “you can stay here forever. Makochi's peaceful. Quiet. You’d like that.”

Chifuyu laughed softly. That old tone, the one Kaji had used when he’d first taken him in, filled him with warmth and ache all at once. His gaze wandered — to the train tracks, the edge of the sky, and then back to Kaji.

He remembered arriving here. Broken. Lost. Desperate for something to hold on to. And Kaji had been there — not just a cousin, but an anchor. A shelter.

But this time, it wasn’t about hiding. It was about standing up.

“I’m not having second thoughts,” Chifuyu said gently, voice steady. “I already made up my mind.”

He glanced away, a small grin tugging at his lips. “Besides… if I had second thoughts, Sakura-san would probably punch me in the face for making him say goodbye.”

Kaji stared at him, his jaw slightly tensed. The silence between them held weight — unspoken memories, worries, affection. He looked like he wanted to say something, but didn’t know how to fit it into words.

Chifuyu caught the worry behind his cousin’s usual stoicism, and in response, he smiled. Not just to reassure Kaji — but to prove it to himself too. “I’ll be okay,” that smile said. “I’ll come back standing.”

With a quiet breath, Kaji reached out and ruffled Chifuyu’s hair — rough, almost annoyed, like always. But this time, there was something heavy behind the gesture. Something final.

“If you’re hurt again,” Kaji muttered, voice firm and low, “you know who to call. And where to come back to.”

Chifuyu nodded, heart full. The announcement called his train’s arrival, the sound breaking through the quiet between them.

He turned toward the platform, Furin’s green jacket folded under his arm — and with it, every memory Makochi had given him.

On the Train:

The train doors slid shut with a soft chime, and Chifuyu found a seat near the window, setting his bag beside him. The familiar weight of the green Furin jacket rested on his lap, neatly folded, though his hands kept fidgeting with its sleeves.

The train lurched into motion, and the scenery of Makochi began to slide past — the hills, the narrow streets, the station sign. It all blurred into motion, but in Chifuyu’s chest, it etched itself like a slow farewell.

He leaned his forehead against the cool glass, eyes half-lidded.

His thoughts drifted to everything that had happened — arriving at Kaji’s apartment that first night, hollow and furious. The way Umemiya had smiled at him with no judgment. Suo’s amused gaze. Nirei’s panic when the group got too chaotic. Sakura's tsundere scowls. And Kaji… always steady, always watching out for him from the sidelines.

He closed his eyes briefly, breathing in.

"I’m not running away this time."

His hands tightened around the jacket. He wasn’t the same boy who had boarded the train to Makochi. Not anymore.

---

Arrival in Tokyo:

The familiar skyline greeted him with muted clouds and golden sunlight threading between buildings. The platform was louder here, busier — a fast-paced world that never stopped for anyone.

Chifuyu stepped off the train, the sound of his boots hitting concrete sharper here. He looked up — at the city he’d once run from — and this time, he didn’t flinch.

The buzz of life surrounded him: train whistles, hurried conversations, the distant honk of a car horn. He tugged the strap of his bag higher on his shoulder and took a deep breath, letting the scent of city air fill his lungs.

He exhaled.

“I’m back.”

There was no fanfare, no one waiting. But it didn’t matter.

Because this time, Chifuyu Matsuno wasn’t running away.

He was coming back — for Takemichi, for Baji-san, for his friends.

And for himself.

Furin Arc ends 

Chapter Text

BA DUMP

Takemichi blinked as he stared down at the sleek, glowing screen in his palm—a touchscreen phone. It felt foreign in his grip, too smooth, too advanced, like it belonged to someone else. His breath hitched.

‘It’s… 2017.’

The digital numbers on the lock screen confirmed it. He had returned. From the past. But this wasn’t the present he remembered—no, it felt like an entirely new world layered over the old one.

‘I haven’t been back in the present for so long…’

His eyes slowly lifted from the phone, scanning the space around him. His chest tightened as familiarity bloomed. Fluorescent lighting buzzed softly overhead, casting the shelves in a dull glow. Posters of idol DVDs and movie releases lined the walls.

‘I’m in the rental store…’

His gaze shifted—and landed on a woman behind the counter.

‘With the manager…’

She looked just like he remembered: neat bun hair, navy work vest, a neutral expression born of customer service training. It was like stepping into a time capsule.

'looks the same as before..'

He gulped as she bowed politely. “I'm sorry to keep you waiting.”

“…Huh?” His voice came out hoarse, uncertain.

The woman straightened and offered a courteous smile, thin and practiced. “The video you’re looking for… doesn’t appear to be in stock at this location.”

“Huh??”

He blinked again. ‘What the hell…?’ Something wasn’t right. There was a strange weight on his wrist. He looked down—and his jaw dropped.

‘What’s with this watch?!’ A designer brand glinted back at him, polished and new. He spun around. His reflection caught his eye in a mirror mounted beside a poster rack.

‘And this bag… top match quality?!’ A high-end leather messenger bag was slung across his chest like he belonged on a fashion magazine cover. His jacket was a sharp, expensive cut, its fit tailored to perfection. He looked like someone with real money.

But it was his hair that stunned him most—his once-messy black strands were now neatly slicked back with styling product, not a strand out of place.

He staggered closer to the mirror, heart pounding.

“What the hell?! …What’s with my hair??”

Wide, panicked eyes stared back at him from a face that was still his… but sharper, more confident.

‘I don’t look like myself!’

He pressed a trembling hand to his chest. ‘What's going on here!?’

---

The glass door of the DVD rental shop swung open with a cheerful jingle as Takemichi stepped out, The manager raising her voice automatically, “Thank you! Please come again!”

Her voice echoed into the quiet street, but Takemichi's eyes were hazy — dazed, like his thoughts were still tangled up in everything that had happened. The sunlight stung a little, and he blinked slowly, trying to process reality.

Then—

“You’re late, Takemichi!”

The sharp voice cut through the fog in his brain. He flinched on instinct, his eyes snapping toward the source.

A tall guy stood by the sidewalk, arms crossed, radiating pressure. His face was fierce — sharply defined with a long scar slashing across his left eyebrow, and round glasses perched perfectly on his nose. His slicked-back hair gleamed under the afternoon light, drapped neatly at the nape. He looked like someone who could walk into a yakuza meeting and take command.

Takemichi’s heart nearly stopped. 'W-Who is that scary guy!?'

The man gave him a pointed look. “You really like this rental shop, don’t you?” His voice was calm, low, but held an edge of irritation — like he’d been waiting too long already.

“Who…?” Takemichi mumbled, still blinking in slow confusion, trying to place the guy’s face.

But the man had already turned on his heel with a curt huff. “Let’s go.”

Takemichi flinched again, his body reacting before his brain caught up. 'Scary…! Why is he so scary?!' he screamed internally as he awkwardly followed a few steps behind.

They reached a sleek black car parked by the outside. The man opened the door and nodded toward it, not bothering to explain.

“Hurry and get in,” he said in that same clipped tone, not even looking back.

Takemichi let out a small, confused noise — half-squeak, half-groan — as he stared at the car, then at the terrifying stranger beside it. He had no idea what was going on, but something told him this wasn’t someone he should argue with.

What did I just get pulled into…?

---

The scenery outside the car window blurred past in streaks of blue and green, the hum of the engine filling the awkward silence inside. Takemichi sat stiffly in the backseat, shoulders tense, awkwardly pressed into the corner of the seat beside the intimidating man. His fingers were clenched around the hem of his jacket, and his eyes darted side to side like a trapped animal.

‘I… I subconsciously got into the car like he told me to…’ he thought, breaking into a cold sweat.

After a moment of hesitation, Takemichi turned his head toward the man beside him. “Uhm… excuse me,” he started hesitantly, voice barely above a whisper. “Where exactly are we going?”

The man didn’t glance his way — just let out a short, dismissive breath. “What are you talking about? We’re heading to your place.”

“M-My place?” Takemichi blinked, turning to look out the window. The streets outside were unfamiliar — definitely not the route to his apartment. “But my apartment isn’t this way—”

“It’s your order,” the man cut in flatly, still not looking at him. He turned his gaze to the front seat. “Right, Kouji?”

“Yes, sir,” the driver responded smoothly, not missing a beat.

Takemichi’s eyes widened. ‘My order? What… What are they talking about??’

Before he could speak again, the driver glanced into the rearview mirror. “Mind if I smoke, sir?”

The scarred man’s foot lazily kicked the back of the driver’s seat, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Of course not, idiot!” he snapped. “Takemichi hates people who smoke in the car!”

Takemichi let out a small gasp, eyes darting between the two men. ‘I— I said that?’

He looked down at his lap, mind racing. ‘What do they mean I gave the order? Why do they know me so well? Who even are these people?!’

Then— ‘Naoto! I should call Naoto! He always helps when weird stuff happens…’

With renewed determination, Takemichi pulled out his phone, quickly scrolling through his contacts.

But then his heart skipped a beat.

“Huh…?” he murmured. “Where… Where’s his number?” His thumb frantically scrolled again, faster this time. “Naoto’s not here…? But he’s always—”

The car rolled to a gentle stop, and the soft click of the parking brake broke the silence.

Takemichi looked up, eyes still wide in disbelief.

The scarred man beside him turned, finally making direct eye contact. “Hey, Takemichi.”

Takemichi flinched at the sound of his name and met the man’s sharp gaze, hesitantly.

The driver stepped out and opened the back door with a small bow. “We’re here.”

The man cocked his head, a small frown playing at his lips. “What are you waiting for? Let’s go.”

“Ah—yes!” Takemichi scrambled out of the car, nearly tripping over himself in his haste. ‘What should I do now…?’ he panicked internally as his shoes hit the pavement. The cool air brushed against his face, but his thoughts were storming. ‘I can’t contact Naoto like this… My phone—his contact… gone…’

Then, all of a sudden—

“THANK YOU FOR YOUR WORK!”

The loud shout made Takemichi flinch. He stumbled back as a line of men standing near the entrance bowed in perfect sync. Each one wore a uniform, their posture sharp and disciplined, their gazes slicing like blades. Even the man standing directly in front of him gave a small nod in greeting.

‘What the hell is this?!’ Takemichi swallowed hard, his throat dry. ‘Why is everyone treating me like I’m someone important?!’

Before he could recover, another voice cut through the air.

“You’re too slow, Takemichi.”

Takemichi turned toward the sound, eyes widening as a tall man with a sharp black buzz cut stepped forward. He had two silver piercings gleaming in his left ear, arms crossed, expression exasperated.

“How long were you planning to keep us waiting?” another voice followed, this one with an edge of teasing annoyance. A lean man with long blond hair stepped up beside the buzz-cut one, a choker tight around his neck and a lazy smirk playing on his lips.

Takemichi stared at them both, horrified. ‘Why are there even more scary strangers now?!’ he practically screamed in his head. ‘Why are they talking to me like they know me?!’

But something was off. Familiar.

His eyes flicked back to the scar-faced man who had brought him here—the one who’d been sitting next to him in the car.

Then—

“Yamagishi! Do your job more seriously!” the buzz-cut man barked, glaring at him.

Takemichi blinked.

Scar-guy—“Yamagishi”—clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Shut up. We were late because this guy wanted to rent a damn DVD.”

And then it hit him.

‘Yamagishi…?’ Takemichi’s thoughts reeled as a memory burst to the surface—an image of a grinning boy with mid-length chestnut hair, his bangs tied back, grape-colored eyes twinkling behind orange square-shaped glasses.

‘That’s… that’s Yamagishi! From Mizo Middle school!!’

But the man before him was different now—his hair slicked back and longer, a goatee on his chin, a silver scar cutting through his left brow, and round glasses framing sharper eyes. Still… underneath all that, it was him.

Takemichi’s gaze whipped toward the other two.

‘That means… this guy with the buzz cut—his hair used to be slicked back in a mullet… Black eyes, big lips… That’s Makoto!’

Then his eyes landed on the blond.

‘And him… with those long lashes and narrow eyes—that’s Takuya! Also from Mizo Middle School!’

His heart skipped a beat.

‘They’re all here—my old friends…! They’re the Mizo Middle School members!’

“Hey, hurry up,” the current Makoto said, snapping Takemichi out of his daze.

“Vice-leader’s getting impatient, Boss,” added the current Takuya, his voice calm but firm.

Takemichi’s mind spun in disbelief. ‘Vice-leader? Boss? W-Wait, do they mean me?! And… if Baji-kun was saved… then… then that means…’

He didn’t get the chance to finish his thought.

“Come on,” Yamagishi muttered, pushing open a heavy glass door.

Takemichi followed them in, his legs feeling like jelly. The inside of the building was sleek, modern, cold. He blinked up at the tall ceiling, the marble floors echoing under their boots. An elevator chimed ahead.

He stepped inside with them, surrounded by the heavy presence of his three transformed friends.

“…What is going on?” Takemichi whispered to himself, eyes wide with uncertainty as the elevator doors slid shut.

Takemichi stared at his reflection in the glass wall of the elevator, watching his uncertain expression ripple slightly with each breath he took. ‘Could I be…’ his thoughts trailed off, chest tightening with anticipation.

The elevator came to a smooth halt. A soft ding echoed through the silence, and the golden doors parted like a curtain unveiling a grand stage.

Takemichi gasped.

The hallway before him stretched out like something from a luxury hotel—marble floors polished to a gleam, subtle golden lighting overhead, sleek black walls with artful accents. Every inch of it screamed wealth, power, and authority.

He stepped out slowly, his eyes darting around in disbelief. ‘Have I climbed that high?!’ His heartbeat picked up as reality tried to catch up with what he was seeing.

Then—

“Boss!”

Takemichi nearly jumped as several men standing in sharp suits bowed to him with perfect coordination, their voices ringing with respect.

“Thank you for letting us be here!”

His mouth fell open. ‘B-Boss?!’ His gaze swept the area again, panic mixing with awe. ‘Is this really my place?! With my own office?!’

Before he could ask, a calm voice echoed from deeper inside the hall.

“Why didn’t you answer my call, Takemichi?”

Takemichi turned toward the sound. At the end of the room, just beyond a tinted glass partition, stood a lone figure with his back turned.

As the man slowly turned around, the light caught his features, and Takemichi’s heart leapt.

The same undercut hairstyle. Neater. Darker. A refined suit, pinstriped and expensive-looking. Cold composure etched into familiar features.

“Chifuyu…!” Takemichi’s eyes glistened with emotion. His lips curved into a smile, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. “Thank goodness it’s you, Chifuyu!!”

He broke into a jog, nearly tripping over himself as he rushed toward his friend.

“Is Baji-kun here? Is he safe? I don’t understand what’s happening—why I’m here, what’s going on—”

But Takemichi’s excited ramble came to a halt as Chifuyu’s expression darkened slightly at the mention of Baji.

“Hah?” Chifuyu blinked once, then gave a casual shrug. “What are you talking about? Baji-san’s currently on a mission. You're currently taking Baji-san's position as leader while he's out”

Relief washed over Takemichi’s face. “Oh… I see…” he sighed, not noticing the way Chifuyu looked away for a second—how his voice had been a little too flat. Unbeknownst to Takemichi, it was a lie.

Chifuyu checked the watch on his wrist, then gestured down the hallway. “Come on. It’s time for the executive meeting.”

“E-Executive meeting?” Takemichi echoed, eyes wide. “Who’s going to the meeting? What executive? Me?”

Chifuyu paused mid-step, glancing back with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Who else but you?” he said coolly, his voice like a secret finally slipping free.

And then he said it.

“Tokyo Manji Gang’s Top executive—Hanagaki Takemichi.”

Takemichi froze in place.

The words hit him like thunder, echoing in his skull. His eyes widened, lips parted, air stuck in his lungs.

‘I’ve… I’ve become Toman’s executive!’ he thought, stunned. ‘I really made it…? But how? When? Why?!’

He looked down at his hands—at the expensive watch on his wrist, the tailored sleeves, the suit jacket that definitely wasn’t from a rental store. He didn’t understand this future yet.

But it was real.

And terrifying.

---

“Please come this way,” a sharply dressed attendant gestured, leading Takemichi and Chifuyu through a richly adorned corridor. Takemichi had swapped his expensive jacket for a neat, understated suit. The new look felt foreign on his body, but it fit the surroundings—sleek, quiet, and refined.

They stepped into a lavish private room—clearly a high-end restaurant reserved for VIPs. A round table sat at the center, overflowing with elegantly plated dishes. Seven men were already seated, and one was standing, all absorbed in various states of eating, talking, and… arguing?

“Who the hell ordered the jellyfish salad?!” a long pink-haired man barked, scanning the table suspiciously.

A man with a royal blue crew cut, complete with a stylized swirl shaved into the left side, sipped his soup delicately—then winced. “The mapo tofu is way too spicy. There’s like, a whole chili farm in here!”

“Where’s the fried rice?!” another barked, leaning forward irritably.

The attendant pulled out a seat and nodded toward Takemichi. “Please sit.”

Takemichi awkwardly spluttered and lowered himself into the chair, while Chifuyu remained standing beside him.

He looked up. “Chifuyu… why aren’t you sitting too?”

Chifuyu gave a short, breathy chuckle. “You seriously forgot, huh? Only leaders get to sit. I’m just your assistant, remember?”

“Ah… I see...” Takemichi mumbled, stunned.

‘This is insane... I’ve really become an executive in Toman…’ He glanced at the table—at these older versions of his former comrades, now clad in tailored suits and radiating authority between bites of food.

‘If I’m one of the leaders now, then maybe I can finally uncover what’s going on with the modern Toman...’ His eyes flickered down to his lap, where his phone rested. He scrolled through the contacts in frustration.

‘Why can’t I find Naoto’s number…?!’

“Alright,” The attendant spoke up, straightening his back. “Let’s begin the discussion on this year’s protection fees collec—”

“Forget that!” A guy cuts in. “Where’s my fried rice?! You fools!”

“Some people aren’t here yet, right?” 

drawled a man with neat, side-parted black hair and sharp slanted eyes. He wore his suit unbuttoned over his chest, revealing a toned physique, a small scar under his left eye, and a stitched cut at the edge of his lip.

(TOMAN TOP EXECUTIVE – HARUKI HAYASHIDA)

‘It’s Pah-chin!’ Takemichi recognized him immediately, sighing in relief.

“You’re too noisy, Pah,” another voice cut in coolly.

The speaker had intense turquoise eyes, thick eyebrows, and brown hair slicked back to one side. He didn’t even look up from his food as he spoke.

(TOMAN TOP EXECUTIVE – YASUHIRO MUTO)

‘If I remember right… that's the Fifth Division Captain..’

“You’re talking about Mitsuya and Baji, right?” Mucho added, lifting his drink with a sly smile.

Chifuyu, still standing by Takemichi, stiffened at the mention of Baji. His expression hardened, but he said nothing.

“There’s more missing people, dumbass!” Pah-chin growled. “And where the hell is my fried rice?! I can’t eat without it!”

“You dumbass. Fried rice comes last, Baldie,” came another voice—grinning, wavy-haired, and cocky as ever. The man wore a stark white suit over a black shirt, a mischievous spark still in his face.

(TOMAN TOP EXECUTIVE – NAHOYA KAWATA)

'The Fourth Division Captain…’ Takemichi thought with a warm smile.

“HUH? Who’re you calling an Idiot?!” Another man beside Pah-chin shouted.

It was tall man with short blond hair leaned forward, slamming his hand on the table clearly ready for a fight. “You should think about who you’re talking to, you damn grinning freak!”

‘Peh-yan-kun!’ Takemichi blinked.

Pah-chin, instead of getting offended, simply gave a satisfied grunt and resumed eating.“Pah-chin’s brain’s always been empty!” Peh-yan shouted back.

Pah-chin let out a satisfied grunt and started eating again.

“Then you go tell the waiter to bring the fried rice first,” Smiley teased.

Takemichi stared at them all, warmth rising in his chest.

‘They haven’t changed… not really. Even after twelve years… everyone’s still in Toman.’

Despite the confusion and uncertainty, he couldn’t help smiling.

"Stop bickering, you're too damn noisy!" a sharp voice cut through the rising tension like a blade. The speaker was a tall, broad-shouldered man casually chewing on a piece of meat, speaking around the bite without a care for decorum. As he munched loudly, Takemichi’s gaze snapped toward him.

The man had a striking royal blue crew cut, the left side of his head adorned with a sleek, stylized swirl shaved into the scalp. His skin was sun-kissed and tanned, the contrast making the white of his tailored suit pop even more. He wore crisp white pants held with a matching belt, a black dress shirt unbuttoned at the top, and a pristine white blazer slung lazily over his broad frame.

‘Who is he…?’ Takemichi wondered.

(TOMAN TOP EXECUTIVE, SHIBA HAKKAI)

Hakkai plucked a toothpick from a silver case and casually ran it between his teeth, clearly unfazed by the others. “Old people are always the loudest,” he said with a lopsided grin.

His words hit like a bullet. Three older leaders visibly bristled.

“Hah? Old people?” Smiley's voice dropped to a dangerous tone, his ever-present grin twitching with irritation.

“Don’t you dare look down on us, Shiba,” Peh-yan growled, eyes narrowing in warning.

“SHUT UP!!” another voice bellowed, silencing the argument in one blow.

All eyes turned to the man who spoke—a cold presence wrapped in pale skin and quiet fury. He had a sharp, square jaw and short, neatly trimmed hair, but it was the gruesome burn scar stretching from his cheekbone across his left eye that stole all attention.

(TOMAN TOP EXECUTIVE, SEISHU INUI)

“Who the hell do you think pays for your meals?” Inupi leaned back in his seat, arms crossed. His voice was low, laced with venom. “You’ve just been around longer than us. Doesn’t make you more useful. You’re a bunch of outdated fossils.”

A wave of outrage followed—Smiley, Mucho, Peh-yan, and Pah-chin all erupted at once, their anger spilling over. The air thickened with hostility. Takemichi wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, caught in the tension.

“Uhm—Hold on…” he tried to interject, only to be cut off by a quiet laugh from the man seated across from him.

The chuckling came from a man with wavy black hair streaked with silver-white, styled into a sharp death hawk. The hair swept rightward, leaving the left side of his scalp trimmed into clean, even furrows. His brown, almond-shaped eyes were lidded with lazy amusement. A gold earring dangled from his right ear, catching the light. His fair skin gave him a refined, almost regal presence.

(TOMAN TOP EXECUTIVE, HAJIME KOKONOI)

“Inupi, you’re a little too blunt,” Koko said with a smirk, voice silky but edged.

‘Who are these people…?’ Takemichi thought, lips pressed tight.

Beside him, Chifuyu's eyes narrowed dangerously. “You two should watch your mouths,” he snapped. “You’re no better than the rest of us. Former Black Dragons or not.”

Takemichi turned to him, confused. ‘Black Dragons…?’

Before the thought could fully form, Pah-chin’s booming voice pierced the tension. “Where are Mikey and the others?!”

Hakkai scoffed. “Always Mikey, Mikey. You old guys act like he’s the sun and you’re just spinning in orbit. Useless heels.”

His gaze darkened.

Pah-chin stepped forward, fists twitching, but a drawling voice cut in before he could act.

“How dull…”

A man lounged into view with the gait of someone who didn’t care what anyone thought. Blonde-streaked hair fell tousled around his face, far more relaxed than it had been in the past. He wore a light-colored striped suit and matching vest, a crisp tie, and round glasses that glinted in the overhead light. A single signature earring swung from one ear.

(TOMAN TOP EXECUTIVE, HANMA SHUJI)

“We’re not here for your usual shouting matches,” Hanma muttered with a half-lidded gaze. “We're here to discuss business. Koko’s publicity firm, Shiba’s corporate front… a number of our operations were searched by police three days ago.”

The room fell into stunned silence as Hanma’s gaze turned hard.

“In other words, this ain’t a damn playground anymore.”

“Figures…” Takemichi mumbled, eyes narrowing. ‘Hanma Shuji… He’s still around… in the present.’

Then Hanma straightened, the lazy edge vanishing from his voice. “There’s a Judas among us.”

Gasps rippled across the table.

“Someone ratted?” Peh-yan asked.

“Like hell anyone here would do that!” Pah-chin shouted. “We’re brothers, even if some of you are bastards—I’d never betray Toman!”

“You moron,” Koko snorted, resting his chin on his hand. “If no one talked, how did the cops hit multiple sites at the same time?”

“Who’re you calling a moron, huh?!” Peh-yan snapped.

“If you want a fight, I’ll take you down right now, Fatass,” Inupi growled, eyes flashing.

“OH, YOU’RE ON!”

Chairs screeched, fists clenched, and the room felt ready to explode—

Clack. Clack. Clack.

The sharp sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway.

“Aren’t we having fun?” a calm, cultured voice asked from the doorway.

Takemichi turned toward the sound and froze.

“...Huh?... !!!”

All of the top executives, save Takemichi, immediately stood from their seats and bowed in unison.

“GOOD EVENING, SIR!”

The man who entered was tall and composed, his light golden-brown hair parted neatly to the side. He wore a business suit that matched perfectly with the tone of power he exuded. A single earring hung from his left ear, and glasses sat squarely on the bridge of his nose.

Takemichi’s blood turned cold.

‘Kisaki…!!’ he thought, gritting his teeth, fighting the urge to lash out. He clenched his fists under the table, his fury trembling just beneath the surface.

Kisaki offered a placid smile. “No need to be so tense, everyone.”