Chapter Text
He was running.
Or… maybe not. The ground didn’t feel solid beneath him. It moved too softly- like mist, or water, or memory. His feet hit something, but there was no sound. No direction. No weight.
Just motion. Desperate, endless motion.
Everything was too bright. Or too white. Or both.
There were no walls. And yet he knew he was trapped. Knew it in the marrow of his bones- the way you know when someone’s watching you from behind a two-way mirror. The kind of knowing that tightens around your ribs and tells you, without words, that you will never get out.
He kept moving anyway. Even though nothing changed. Even though every breath scraped like it had to carve its way out of him.
Something unseen pressed against his skin, brushing his arms, brushing his neck, brushing too close. Hands, maybe. Or the idea of them.
He didn’t scream. He didn’t fight. He couldn’t.
The walls came later.
He never saw them rise, but suddenly they were there- bare metal beams reaching up forever, casting no shadow. No ceiling. No sky. Just bars. Thin and sharp and silent. He couldn’t remember if they’d always been there. That was the worst part.
It always was.
And though he knew better than to reach out, past the cold bars and into the infinite white, he still did, lonely and terrified, hoping for someone, anyone, to pull him free.
‘Please–’
Yet the phantom hands dragged him back.
They always did.
‘No-!’
-o-O-o-
Sakura shot up with a gasp, dragging in air like he’d been drowning.
For a second, the apartment didn’t feel like the apartment- It felt too small. Too quiet. The light from the tall window cut across the floor like a spotlight, and for one awful moment, he thought he was still in it- that place.
But the shadows didn’t move. No hands. No white noise. Just the familiar creak of the rotting floorboards under his futon and the soft hum of power lines outside.
He blinked. Once. Twice.
Still here.
Still real.
Taking a moment to gather himself, the boy blinked to rid himself of the blurriness, dual colored eyes scanning his surroundings carefully.
Then finally, Sakura shoved the blanket off and sat up, pressing the heel of his palm into one eye until color bloomed behind the lid. His plain white shirt clung to him, damp. His breath still hadn’t settled.
It’d been a while since the last one.
He’d almost convinced himself they were over.
Blindly hoping that he was finally free from their torment.
“Yeah. Right,” he muttered, voice scratchy and low, dragging a hand through his mussed up hair. He didn’t bother looking at the time. The sun was up. That was enough.
He stood, joints stiff from a night of bad angles and worse memories, and stretched until his back cracked. The ache helped. A little.
No cages. Not anymore.
Just dust, sunlight, and a Friday morning in Makochi.
Sakura wiped his face with the hem of his shirt, scowling at the clinging dampness. His skin felt wrong- too tight, too hot, like the nightmare was still trying to drag him under by the collar.
He grumbled something unrepeatable under his breath and hobbled over to throw open the creaky window leading to the balcony, letting in a rush of fresh morning air as he tried to clear his mind.
That… ‘dream’ had been the first in weeks- no, months.
It had no reason to resurface, and yet it did. Laughing in his face as it crept out of the past that he tried to keep buried.
Gritting his teeth, the boy forced himself to move away from the balcony. He wasn’t about to let it ruin his morning. Not after everything they’d been through.
Besides, this was the boring part. And he’d earned boring, seeing as nearly a month ago, Makochi had felt like it might cave in on itself.
First Endo showed up, the mastermind behind Shizuka’s attempted kidnapping, who then riled him and his companions up before dipping. Then came the declaration of war, which had everyone on high alert and bracing for impact.
And then Noroshi hit.
But not just them. Entire swarms of hired lackeys had closed in on Makochi and Furin with the intention of bringing the town’s protectors down.
Sakura still remembered the chaos- footsteps thundering through the streets, fists hitting pavement and the deafening shouting of both friends and foes. The scent of blood had clung to his uniform for days.
But they’d made it through.
Furin rallied, backed by Shishitoren and the Roppo-Ichiza, who Sakura had asked for help only days before.
They fought back. Held the line. And when the dust finally settled, when the last of the Noroshi punks and their lackeys limped out of town under Endo’s order and Bofurin’s watchful supervision, everyone stumbled into the Furin courtyard to declare their victory.
The after-party came later. A few days after the fight, when the major repairs around town had been taken care of and the streets didn’t look like a war zone. Umemiya proposed the whole thing, roping in every single member of Furin whether they liked it or not. (But of course, everyone easily agreed and did their part when setting up the food stalls and organizing the celebration.)
Both the Roppo-Ichiza and Shishitoren were invited, a formal thank-you for the help they'd given when it mattered most. Sakura hadn’t expected to talk much. He somehow ended up being the center of their attention, anyway. And as far as he was concerned, they were dead set on flustering him whenever they could. Damned jerks.
After that, Class 1-1 got a short summer break- nothing dramatic. Just a few lazy days to catch their breath. They’d even gone to the beach to relax and enjoy the sun. Someone said they needed to touch grass, or sand, or whatever else that wouldn’t end in another fight.
He had never gone to the beach before, so he was quite nervous at first- but somewhere between Nirei’s shrieking and Tsugeura nearly drop-kicking a seagull, the tension in his chest had eased without him noticing.
Suo had stuck to the shade, sipping something from a can with his sleeves down like it was midwinter. Nirei had almost drowned trying to tackle Tsugeura into the water. Kiryu showed up with his gaming console like he thought a few seconds without it might kill him. Anzai and the others wasted several melons when playing their game and Sugishita-… Nevermind.
To say the least, it was chaos.
It was good.
It was fun.
Once the break was over, the last of the repairs still waited for them- patching up fences, cleaning up debris, returning the town to something resembling normal.
There were also newly scheduled training sessions, which would take place after school whenever they weren’t busy patrolling the town. Joint sessions with Class 2-1 and a few others. Kaji Ren and the upperclassmen weren’t soft about it either. 1-1 had made it clear they didn’t want to just survive next time a threat popped up. They wanted to win- fair and square.
With this, everything slowly slid back into routine.
It wasn’t exactly peaceful. There was still tension in the air sometimes- people flinching at loud noises, struggling with their injuries or instinctively checking the corners of alleys- but it was steady. Familiar.
Manageable.
Sakura folded his futon, plucked his phone from the charger, and changed into his uniform after taking a quick, cold shower- not that he had any warm water, anyway.
He didn’t rush. The air still had a hint of early morning chill, though it’d probably be gone in an hour. His jacket smelled faintly of vanilla and fabric softener the old lady from the local laundromat had gifted him. Since he didn’t have a washing machine, he simply washed it all in his sink, so the metallic smell stayed for quite a bit.
With one last look into the cracked mirror, Sakura left the bathroom and stepped outside, phone in his pocket, key twisting into the shed’s new lock with a satisfying click. (Suo and Nirei had sent a locksmith to him to ‘finally’ get it fixed.)
Just when he was about to descend the creaky stairs, his stomach grumbled and twinged, making him freeze. Right- he hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday, and the small bread rolls the bakery chef had handed him during patrol didn’t exactly count as dinner.
Kotoha’s place wasn’t far. If he was lucky, she’d be kind enough to double his plate of omurice- his favorite, even if he never really said it aloud (though they all knew). There was something about the fluffy egg and warm, savory rice that made it easier to breathe.
Kotoha’s cooking was safer. And… kinder, in ways he didn’t always know how to name. Maybe he should ask her to teach him how to cook sometime? It’d be a good skill to pick up.
So, with quiet steps and a slow breath, Sakura headed down the stairs and walked toward Tonpu market street. The sky above him was still golden, slowly fading into a pale blue.
It was peaceful.
For now.
-o-O-o-
The early stirrings of the town had begun. Shopkeepers were pulling up metal shutters, sweeping the storefronts, arranging displays of fruit, fabric, and household trinkets. The familiar clatter and chatter of morning routines filled the air, and with it came something else: people waving. At him.
A few nodded his way. Some smiled. One elderly woman pressed a rice cracker into his hand and called him a “good boy,” and before he could even protest, another vendor tossed him a pack of dried sweet potatoes with a thumbs-up.
Sakura grumbled at the attention, already feeling his face heat up. “Ah- th-thank you,” he muttered quickly, bowing stiffly and trying not to trip over his own shoes as he ducked out of the spotlight.
He didn’t think he’d ever get used to Makochi’s overwhelming kindness- It was still strange, being looked at with something other than suspicion or disdain. He wasn’t used to this kind of treatment.
It rattled him more than a fistfight ever could.
Arms full of unsolicited gratitude, he finally reached the small café tucked at the edge of the street. The door to Café Photos groaned as he pushed it open with his shoulder, the small bell hanging above merrily chiming away, announcing his arrival.
“Sakura! You’re later than usual,” Kotoha greeted from behind the counter, grinning as she spotted him buried under his haul. “Woah, that’s quite a haul you got there. Did you beat up another troublesome gang to warrant that amount?”
Sakura huffed, not dignifying that with a response. He shuffled over, dumped the pile of food onto the counter with a heavy thud, and plopped onto a stool. “Like hell I did,” he muttered under his breath.
“Mmhm,” she said, already moving to plate his breakfast. “You’re gonna need a second- no, a third bag at this rate.”
He didn’t reply. Instead, as the scent of warm egg and savory ketchup filled the air, he found himself staring out the large window beside his seat. His reflection met him there- half-lit by the morning sun. Tousled, two-toned hair, tired, mismatched eyes. Pale skin in stark contrast to his black and green uniform.
There was a time- not too long ago- when he’d considered dyeing his hair. Putting on contacts. Scrubbing himself clean of anything that made people stare too long or ask too many questions.
But it wouldn’t have mattered. People always saw what they wanted to see. And they would cast him out, again and again, no matter where he ran. Even so, he didn’t want to change himself- to submit to everyone’s expectations of him.
His fingers tightened slightly around the spoon Kotoha had set in front of him.
And yet… Makochi had seen something else. Furin had. They hadn’t asked him to become someone else, or shrink himself down to be easier to swallow. Somehow- by some absurd twist of fate- they’d accepted him as he was. Taking him in as one of their own- as a protector- and even giving him small gifts of gratitude in return.
For the first time in his life, he felt like he could exhale without flinching.
He didn’t want to leave. Not now. Not ever.
Not from this.
Twisting to stare down at the steaming plate of omurice Kotoha had set in front of him, Sakura frowned, his spoon hovering above the egg coating.
To hell with his past and anyone who had ever treated him like some kind of freak show. Makochi was his home.
And he would fight for it, no matter what.
He finished eating in quiet gulps, savoring the warmth more than he cared to admit. Once done, he set the plate aside and muttered a soft, “Thanks,” to Kotoha, who only offered a small smile and waved him off like usual.
By the time he left Café Photos, the streets had grown livelier. The noise of everyday life had returned- muffled announcements from storefront radios, bikes clattering over uneven bricks, kids yelling after each other as they ran past.
It should’ve been comforting- peaceful.
But a small part of that nagging sensation from this morning still lingered, curling tight in the pit of his stomach like a knot that wouldn’t come undone.
Maybe it was because of the nightmare? Or maybe it was the silence that followed- the kind that pretended nothing had happened at all?
He tried to shake it, bury it under the usual rhythms of getting to school and interacting with his classmates. But all throughout class, it followed him like a shadow.
His pen tapped too fast against the notebook he had been given by Nirei. His gaze drifted toward the windows too often, tangling up in his thoughts and drifting further and further away.
Luckily, Furin’s classes passed without any issues, but the unease never left. It wasn’t loud, not enough to raise alarms, just a slow thrum beneath the surface- a phantom itch beneath his skin. A whisper at the base of his skull. Like he’d forgotten something important. Or maybe like something had remembered him.
He chalked it up to leftover tension from the last few weeks. His body still hadn’t let go of the habit of always being on guard.
And besides, there was work to be done, so he had no time to let himself be this distracted.
Patrol duty took up the afternoon, and while most of it involved checking in with shop owners and helping paint a battered wall or fix crooked floorboards, it wasn’t entirely uneventful. Sugishita picked a fight over Sakura not addressing Umemiya with ‘Umemiya-san’- again- and wound up with a splinter to the hand and paint in his hair for his efforts.
Sakura didn’t regret it- even when Hiragi smacked them both across the back of the head in frustration, only to groan and probably overdose on his Gas-kun medicine again.
Still, it helped to be around the others. With Tsugeura’s enthusiastic yelling and Nirei’s cheerful rambling, the patrols almost felt like a return to normal. Like the town had found its heartbeat again and was slowly starting to breathe.
But even after parting ways with his classmates at the end of school and patrol, the restlessness stubbornly remained.
That’s how the two-toned boy found himself walking without a destination, letting his legs carry him through familiar alleys and across rooftops dusted with summer pollen. He could’ve gone home. Could’ve curled into his old apartment and let the day burn out like always.
Instead, he kept moving, mulling over the day and trying to push away any unwelcome memories that tried to slip through the cracks.
He was just being paranoid. It had been so long since he’d left that place, after all.
They must’ve forgotten him by now…
Surely.
-o-O-o-
It was nearing dusk when Sakura found himself debating whether he should start heading back home, only to round the corner of a quiet street– and freeze.
Someone stood further down the road, half-shadowed by the overhang of a closed flower shop. Their back was turned, posture relaxed, arms tucked into the pockets of a dark jacket. Loose strands of dark hair caught the late afternoon light, tinged gold by the fading sun.
Sakura furrowed his brows, his hands twitching in the pockets of his uniform.
The figure didn’t move. Just stood there, head slightly tilted like they- he? - was reading something in the display window beside him.
At first, there was nothing strange about it. Just a civilian, maybe. Someone killing time.
But something- something - about the shape of him dug up a flicker of memory. That wavy hair. That confident posture. The too-smooth way he leaned his weight to one side. Familiar in the way sharp teeth or a blade glinting in low light might be- everything about this man screamed danger.
Sakura’s jaw clenched. He took a slow, cautious step forward, dual-colored eyes narrowing at the taller man, carefully sizing him up.
Then the man turned.
Gloves. High collar. No tattoos in sight.
But that smile- first surprised- then too sharp, too smug- was unmistakable.
“…You,” Sakura muttered, stunned. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Endo Yamato blinked at him like he hadn’t even noticed who was approaching until just now.
“Sakura?” he said, lifting a gloved hand as though greeting an old friend. “Huh. What are the odds?”
Sakura’s frown deepened at the way the man practically lit up when he saw him. “Don’t play dumb. You don’t even live here- At least I don’t think you do.”
Endo hummed, glancing back at the shop window behind him. “Didn’t say I did. I was just checkin’ this new candy place out- heard a rumor they sell sour jellies Takiishi might like.” He gestured offhandedly toward the storefront next to the flower shop. “Figured I’d scout it first. Y’know, like a good friend.”
Sakura didn’t answer, still watching him warily.
Then Endo grinned. That slow, fox-like grin that practically screamed ‘whatever you think I’m here for, you’re probably right.’
“But hey,” he added lightly, “maybe it’s fate we met today. I’ve been thinkin' about our last… encounter.”
“…Good for you?,” Sakura deadpanned, pulling his hands out of his pockets to defensively cross his arms in front of his chest.
“Don’t be so cold, Sakuraaa. I just wanna apologize!,” Endo said, clasping his hands behind his back and stepping closer with confident strides. “Well. Sort of apologize. I mean, technically, I did incite a full-blown brawl in your town. Minor misstep.”
Sakura bristled. “Minor-?!”
An amused laugh cut off Sakura before he could argue about the sheer amount of damages and injuries Endo’s ‘minor misstep’ had dropped on them all.
“I’m jokin’, really. I know well enough that the shit I pulled was too much. But hey, can you blame me? I already told ya’, love makes people do crazy stuff. And the scale of it all ain’t something that can be corrected with just a measly ‘I’m sorry’, though your idiotic leader does, apparently…”
Endo tilted his head in thought before shrugging and finally coming to a stop just a few meters in front of Sakura. “Anyway, I’ve been considerin’ your little offer, you know. The one about hangin' out sometime. Chatting.”
He said it like it meant nothing. Like it was just another joke. But the gleam in his stormy blue eyes gave him away- quiet, calculating curiosity flickering beneath the casual grin. Wondering, maybe, if Sakura would actually stay true to his word. If he’d really talk to his so-called enemy.
Sakura felt his stomach tighten. The memory of their conversation as they ascended the stairs to the school’s rooftop after their fight came back in full force.
He squared his shoulders, flustered. “Tch. You’re seriously takin’ me up on that? What, you don’t have anyone better to bother?”
Endo gave a low chuckle, clearly enjoying the show of the younger’s posturing. “C’mon, now. Don’t be shy, Sakura~. You offered. I’m just being polite.”
“Since when,” Sakura muttered, turning away sharply. His ears burned, and he hated how warm they felt. “You’re creepy, you know that?”
“I get that a lot, though most people call me charismatic,” Endo replied with far too much confidence. The stormy blue eyes he cast over were amused, sharp. “Guess you’re just immune to my charm, huh?”
Sakura groaned, stepping away from the smug bastard leaning into his space. “You say stuff like that and then act surprised when people wanna punch you.”
Endo laughed, the sound light and unbothered as he fell into step beside him, hands stuffed in his pockets. “Hmm, fair point~”
They walked on in a loose rhythm, footsteps echoing through the narrow alleys of Makochi. The buildings stretched tall on either side, casting long shadows across the uneven stone. As they turned another corner, wind chimes clinked faintly above a doorway, the breeze tugging at their shirts. The sun dipped lower, painting everything in gold and rust.
“So,” Endo said casually, “do you always look like a pissed-off cat that just got dunked in a bathtub, or is that just when I’m around?”
Spluttering, Sakura spun to face the taller man walking next to him. “Wha- where the hell did that come from?”
The man shrugged lazily, unbothered. “Just callin' it like I see it. You act all prickly, but you haven’t run off yet.”
Sakura’s scowl deepened. “I could leave.”
“And yet,” Endo drawled with a smug tilt of his head, “we’re still walking side by side like a couple of gossipin' schoolgirls.”
Nearly tripping over air, the boy hissed, heat shooting up to his face. “Y-You wanna die?!”
Endo playfully held up both gloved hands in surrender, chuckling again while looking all too pleased with himself. “Kiddin’. Just trying to get you to smile.”
“Try harder.”
“I like a challenge~”
Rolling his eyes in mock annoyance, Sakura looked away again. The worst part was that… he didn’t mind this. Somehow. As weird and smug as Endo was, he wasn’t pushy or trying to dig too deep. He just talked- like this was normal. Like Sakura was just some guy, not someone to tiptoe around.
It was… strange. But not unpleasant.
“You’re quieter than I thought you’d be,” Endo said after a beat, glancing sideways with a teasing smile. “Kinda expected you to be all bark and teeth.”
Sakura gave him a flat look. “Sorry to disappoint.”
Endo snorted and clapped him on the shoulder, nearly throwing off his balance. “Nah, I like surprises.”
Stiffly shouldering the other, the two-toned student huffed, “Freakin’ weirdo.”
A bark of laughter followed. “There it is.”
Damn bastard.
They were approaching a more open stretch of road now, the alley bleeding into one of the lesser-trafficked shopping lanes. Most shops were already shuttering for the day, though a few store lights still flickered from behind drawn blinds. The street was mostly empty.
The tattooed man next to him kept rambling on and on about Takiishi Chika’s new interests and how he’d started calling him by his name, clearly happy to have someone to talk to, when suddenly the sound of heavy footfalls echoed down the way.
A group of men- five, maybe six- rounded the far corner and approached, dressed in matching black jackets. Their laughter was too loud, slurred around rough voices and sharp edges. One of them shoved another into a lamppost, the clang of metal ringing out across the narrow street.
Endo paused their conversation and slowed instinctively, casual stance tightening just enough to hint at readiness. His eyes flicked toward them, already calculating whether the clearly intoxicated group of men would be a bother.
But Sakura didn’t move.
His breath hitched. His feet locked in place, heavy as stone. He stared- unblinking, unmoving- at the hem of one man’s jacket, where a faint glimmer of a silver symbol caught the dying sunlight.
A smooth, empty oval mask. Two slitted eyes stitched in matte black thread.
Expressionless. Silent. Watching. Like a face with nothing behind it.
The Faceless Buyer.
‘No.’
The name roared through his mind like static.
‘They can’t be here.’
His throat closed. His vision blurred at the edges, tunneled in on that single shape. It couldn’t be. He got out. He escaped. He burned every bridge, vanished off the map. They shouldn’t be here. They can’t be here–!
But they were.
Beside him, Endo had turned to speak again, a smirk still playing at his lips- only for the look to falter the moment he caught sight of Sakura’s face.
White as a sheet. Mismatched eyes wide and unfocused. Every muscle trembling.
“Sakura?”
But Sakura failed to answer, his pulse thundering in his ears, ragged and uneven, drowning out the others' words.
The world seemed to tilt. His knees locked.
He can’t- Oh god, he can’t breathe–
The last time he saw that symbol, he woke up in a cage.