Archive of Our Own ^beta

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.

Chapter Text

Endo Yamato hadn’t expected much out of today.

Maybe a new snack at that weird new candy place he wanted to check out for Takiishi. Maybe a lazy walk home through the empty alleys of Makochi, a cigarette or two if the mood struck. 

The last thing he expected was to run into the kid with the sharp tongue, two-toned hair and mismatched eyes- the person that had reminded him so much of Takiishi when he fought. 

Sakura Haruka, one of the few individuals to ever draw his full interest. 

But he had. And damn, was it entertaining.

Sakura was so easy to mess with, like a cat pretending it didn’t want attention while still hovering around your ankles. Prickly, defensive, dramatic in that twitchy little way that made Endo grin far more than he should’ve. He’d barely even teased him before the guy started sputtering like a kicked hornet’s nest.

Frankly, it was adorable. Not that he’d tell Sakura, seeing as that would probably send him into cardiac arrest.

He was just about to pick up their conversation again, make another crack- something light, maybe something flirty, if only to see how red the kid’s ears would get- when he noticed it.

Sakura had stopped walking.

Endo slowed, puzzled, glancing over his shoulder with a grin already forming on his lips. “What, cat got your-...”

But the words trailed off.

Sakura wasn’t looking at him- not even reacting to him. 

His gaze was fixed ahead, locked onto the rowdy group down the alley with unnerving intensity. Mismatched eyes wide and unblinking. The kid’s jaw was slack. Every muscle in his body was wound tight like wire about to snap.

Following the boy's line of sight, Endo studied the men. They wore black jackets, laughing too loud, shoving each other around like a bunch of overgrown toddlers. Harmless enough on the surface. The kind of guys Endo usually wouldn’t spare a second glance.

But then he caught a glint of silver in the fading sunlight- threadwork stitched into the inside of one guy’s jacket, just as the edge lifted with the motion of a shove.

A smooth oval. Blank. Faceless. Two needle-thin slits where eyes should be.

Endo frowned. Something about it tugged at his memory- maybe he’d seen it before? On the news, maybe. One of those late-night documentaries about… what was it again? He hadn’t paid much attention at the time, so his near eidetic memory wasn’t able to hang onto it. 

It was too far to make out clearly anyway. Could be some cheap brand logo. Could be nothing.

But the way Sakura looked at it?

That wasn’t nothing .

“Sakura?” he asked, cautiously this time.

Still nothing.

Endo stepped closer, eyeing the boy's tense posture, knowing all too well that one misstep might end up with a fist to the face. 

The younger was trembling now, fists clenched tight at his sides, eyes still locked on the group even as they passed further down the street, laughter echoing into the distance. His breathing was ragged, panicked. Off.

It was like watching someone unravel in real time.

‘Panic attack, possible disassociation.’ His mind quickly supplied. This was not good. He had to snap Sakura out of it or get him somewhere safe. 

“Sakura.” Firmer now. “Hey, look at me-”

But the moment Endo reached out, fingers just brushing his arm-

Sakura crumpled.

Startled, Endo surged forward, catching him instinctively before the boy could hit the ground. The sudden weight nearly threw him off balance, but he held fast, lowering them both gently to the pavement.

The group of men vanished down another street, none of them having even glanced back.

And yet the damage was done.

Sakura’s body was limp in his arms. Cold sweat dampened his black and white bangs. His breathing, though shallow, was at least slowly steadying now.

Endo stared down at him, covered arms tense around his weight, with something uncomfortably close to fury curling in his gut.

This wasn’t right.

This beautiful, blooming cherry blossom- loud and angry and stubborn- had just wilted in his arms. Those vibrant petals he’d gotten a glimpse of? Pale now. Fragile. Fading fast.

And he hated it.

He hated that look on Sakura’s face- the blankness, the bone-deep fear. It didn’t belong there. 

Not on the kid who’d glared at him like he wanted to tear him apart, not on the one who’d fought him tooth and nail with every ounce of spirit in his bruised-up and bleeding body. The one who’d made him laugh in the middle of their brawl, who’d dodged and adapted and hit back like he had something to prove. Like he couldn’t afford to lose- he couldn't. 

It had Endo obsessed from the moment their fists clashed- from the moment where he realized he wanted Sakura’s attention on him and only him. 

So seeing that same kid- his opponent, his rival, his newest distraction from the miserable boredom of everyday life- reduced to this shaking, silent thing in his arms?

It was wrong .

Why had the sight of those men- just a group of dumbasses in black jackets- made Sakura freeze like that? Made him dissociate? Pass out? What the hell had he seen that Endo hadn’t?

He’d taken punches to the face without blinking. Had stood there with crimson blood in his teeth and that sharp, furious glint in his starlit eyes like pain didn’t even register.

Not once- not even when they’d beaten each other black and blue, fists raw and clothes soaked in red- had Sakura looked afraid. Even when Endo had wrapped his hands around his pretty little neck and nearly choked the life out of him–

So what the hell was this?

Whatever it was, he didn’t like it. Not one damn bit.

Grimacing, Endo adjusted his grip and carefully lifted Sakura off the ground. Huh. The kid’s really light. Too light. Like someone who skipped too many meals and didn’t sleep enough. It made something ugly twist in his stomach.

He didn’t like that either.

“Alright,” he muttered, glancing once more in the direction the men had vanished with disdain. “We’ll figure that out later.”

Step one: get Sakura somewhere safe.

Easy. Except- 

He paused mid-step.

“…Wait. Shit.”

Where the hell did this kid live?

He couldn’t exactly leave him at the park like a stray cat. Like hell he’d let some stranger stumble upon him. And asking him directly was out of the question- Sakura was still dead to the world in his arms, breathing slow but shallow, arms slack, head resting comfortably against Endo’s chest like he trusted him. Which was… weird. And not helping.

Okay. Focus. Not the time. 

It was Friday. Mid evening. Most of the Bofurin members had already gone home.  

Takiishi? Definitely not answering his phone right now. And Endo, being Endo, had made exactly zero effort in the past to learn the addresses of his old classmates. Because why would he need to?

“Goddamn it.”

Frowning, Endo stared at Sakura’s sleeping face before nodding as he made his decision.

“Guess you’re coming home with me.”

He could only hope Takiishi wouldn’t mind their impromptu guest. Or notice. Or smack him for bringing home a half-conscious boy with no warning and zero explanation.

Not that it was just some random boy. This was Sakura.

And Endo wasn’t leaving him alone.

Not like this.

-o-O-o-

He woke up choking on air.

The first thing he noticed was the dark. Not pitch-black, but dim- soft light spilling in through a window, unfamiliar shadows crawling across unfamiliar walls.

The second was the pain- sharp and dull all at once, a pressure splitting down the center of his skull like something cracked open. His heart pounded in his chest, too loud, too fast. His breath hitched. Too shallow. He couldn’t breathe.

‘Where–?!’

His body bolted upright on instinct.

Where was he?

The last thing he remembered- those men. The laughter. That symbol.

The Faceless Buyer.

His lungs seized. He looked around, wide-eyed and shaking, scanning for bars, cages, metal chains, the burn of zip-ties on his wrists-

No. No. No no no–

They got him again. They found him. Dragged him back. He knew it. He knew it –

The mattress shifted beneath his weight. Wooden headboard. Cotton sheets.

This… this wasn’t a cell.

But it felt like one.

Were they trying to lure him into a false sense of security? Shatter his hopes all over again?

He scrambled to get up, his muscles weak and aching but desperate to move- run- hide- anything. He couldn’t go through this again. 

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, the hardwood floor cold against his bare feet, and then–

The door creaked open.

Sakura froze.

The shape in the doorway filled the frame- tall, broad-shouldered, silhouetted against a hallway light.

His stomach flipped.

But then the figure stepped forward- and the soft light caught storm-blue eyes and a smug, stupid smirk.

“…You’re awake.”

Endo.

Gone was the high-necked shirt from earlier. He’d changed- now wearing a loose dark blue tank top that clung slightly to his frame, revealing the full spread of ink curling across his shoulders, arms, and collarbones. Casual black jeans clung low on his hips, stylishly rumpled like he’d just walked off the page of some underground fashion mag.

Sakura faltered, wheezed, and collapsed back onto the bed, his whole body still wrecked with violent tremors. But the sight of those tattoos and easy-going appearance helped, as it was nothing like the men from earlier. 

“Jesus-” Endō was already moving, setting the glass of water he had been holding down with a soft clink on the nightstand and dropping to his knees at Sakura’s side. “You’re burning up- what the hell happened to you out there?”

Sakura flinched violently at the touch, shoving him back with trembling hands.

“Don’t-!” His voice cracked pathetically mid-word. His whole body shook. “Don’t touch me!”

Endo jerked back immediately, hands raised in a show of harmless surrender. “Alright, alright,” he said lightly, but there was an edge to his voice now. “No touching. Got it. You’re fine. It’s safe here.”

Sakura pulled in a breath through gritted teeth, curled fists pressing into the blankets as he fought to sit up straighter. His skin crawled. His heart hadn’t stopped hammering.

This wasn’t a cell. That was Endo. Not them. He hadn’t gone back.

Not yet.

The silence that followed was tense. Thick. Breathing felt like dragging air through broken glass.

“…Where am I?” he finally asked, his voice raw.

Endō, still crouched at his side, gave a one-shouldered shrug. “My place. You fainted and were out for a while- It’s Saturday now. Remember that?”

Sakura didn’t.

Or maybe he did. Just enough to wish he didn’t.

They moved downstairs to the dining table a few minutes later, once Sakura could stand without his legs buckling. 

The space was- predictably- insane. Polished wood floors, minimalist lighting, wide windows that bled soft morning light across the open-concept kitchen. Soft grey and white walls. Expensive-looking everything.

Of course this bastard lived in a pompous place like this.

Sakura sat stiffly at the table while Endo hummed to himself in the kitchen. “You can relax, y’know. Not gonna eat you.”

“That makes one of us,” Sakura muttered, eyeing the silverware like it might be a trap.

Endo laughed and slid a small glass bowl in front of him. “Didn’t know what you’d like, so I grabbed pudding. Easy on the stomach, right?”

Sakura blinked at the pale custard as if it had offended him. “…You feeding me like a hospital patient?”

“Only if you start eatin’ like one.”

He didn’t wait for a reply- just plopped into the seat across from him, long legs stretching out beneath the table, looking way too at ease for someone who’d just had a near-stranger slash previous enemy pass out on him.

Sakura picked up the spoon, hesitated, then dug in with the grace of a cat forced to use chopsticks.

Endo stared.

A long pause.

Then: “Sakura~ why are you holding your spoon like that?”

The two-toned boy snapped upright, a flush spreading across his face. “Wuh- You got a problem?!”

“Not at all,” Endō replied easily, lips twitching. “Just wonderin’.”

“I’ve always held it like this…”

“And nobody ever corrected you?” he asked, incredulous as he eyed Sakura’s tense hand. “Is that even comfortable?”

Silence. Sakura’s hand clenched faintly around the spoon, grip going rigid.

“…Fuck off.”

(His voice was steady. Not his pulse. No- nobody had corrected him. Nobody ever cared enough to.)

“Ha! No can do,” Endo chuckled, leaning back like this was the most casual conversation in the world.

Another spoonful of pudding disappeared. The silence that followed wasn’t quite comfortable, but it wasn’t suffocating either. Not until Endo tilted his head and said- 

“Anyway, not that I mind your company, but what made you faint on me so suddenly?”

Sakura was unable to suppress the flinch.

“Tch… it’s nothing,” he muttered. “Just bad memories.”

The grin on Endō’s face faded, replaced with something firmer, weightier.

“Sakura.”

“I said it’s none of your damn business.” The words came sharp and fast. He slammed the spoon down with a soft clink, shoulders squared, mouth drawn in a tight line. “So stop asking.”

Please stop asking. 

A heavy beat.

“…I may be a shit judge of character,” Endo drawled, more serious now, “but even I can tell something’s very wrong. You don’t just freeze up and collapse at the sight of a group of guys crossin’ the street.”

“Why do you care so much?!” Sakura burst out, unable to contain the rising anxiety, which forced him to lash out defensively. “This doesn’t concern you–!”

“I’m interested in you,” Endo interrupted, voice steady like he hadn’t just stunned Sakura speechless. “Told you during and after our fight, didn’t I?”

He leaned over the table, dark brows furrowed.

“And seeing your beautiful, vibrant petals wilt like this… it pisses me off.”

Stormy-blue eyes narrowed, fixed on Sakura’s baffled expression.

“So tell me, Sakura. What the fuck is going on?”

Grasping the edge of the table, the boy took a second to process the other’s words before- “…Beautiful, vibrant- what are you on about, you weirdo?!” Sakura yelped, incredulous.

Endo didn’t blink. “Changing the topic won’t help you.”

A frustrated groan tore out of Sakura’s throat as he threw his head back and glared daggers at the ceiling. 

Of course. Of course this was his life now. Wake up after a mental breakdown in some stranger’s house- only to have said stranger psychoanalyze him between spoonfuls of pudding.

“This is so stupid,” he muttered under his breath. “Why are you even this insistent…?”

“Because I admire you,” Endo said, plain and serious.

Sakura blinked, choked, and flushed violently. But Endo didn’t stop there. 

“I meant what I said after our battle, y’know. Your fighting- it’s beautiful. The way you moved, the way you pushed back - even when I beat you down, you never let up.” His voice dropped, a strange kind of reverence bleeding through. “You lit something up in me, that same spark I felt the first time I fought Takiishi. Wonder. Obsession, maybe.”

‘Definitely obsession- what the hell is wrong with this guy-’

A lopsided smile tugged at the older man’s mouth, brief and wry before fading again.

“So when I saw you- you - just collapse like that, it was…” He gestured vaguely, tattooed hands carving the air in an incomplete arc before falling to the table. “Unnerving. You were so fierce when you fought for Furin, for your friends. Bloody, determined, damn near feral. And then, boom- just like that- your body shut down.”

His gaze leveled, steady and unreadable, burning through Sakura’s unsettled soul.

“No one reacts like that unless something really fucked-up happened.”

Silence stretched between them.

Sakura clenched his jaw. That awful ringing had started again, just behind his ears- low and tight and nauseating. His fingers let go of the table and curled against his leg instead.

“…You’re really not gonna let this go, huh?” he asked, voice a notch too rough.

“Not a chance,” Endo replied without missing a beat.

“Ugh, fine .” Sakura scowled and turned away, as if the words would come easier without Endo’s intense eyes on him.

They didn’t.

Sakura exhaled sharply through his nose, glaring at the floor like it’d insulted him. The half-eaten pudding sat untouched, spoon abandoned beside it. 

He didn’t want to talk about it. Didn’t even know how to talk about it. Every nerve screamed in protest- shut up, change the subject, tell him to fuck off and be done with it.

But Endo was still looking at him expectantly.

Not with that infuriating, smug grin or the gleam he usually got when watching a good fight unfold. Just quiet, patient expectation. Like he was waiting for something.

It felt like his throat was closing up again-

Sakura scowled harder, digging his fingers into his legs. “It’s… nothing bad.”

He heard the pause. Felt it. The weight of disbelief radiating from across the table like a heat lamp as Endo’s eyes narrowed in disapproval.

“J-Just,” he stammered, arms crossing defensively over his chest, “bad history. With people like them.”

Endo tilted his head, gaze narrowing. “Like them?”

Sakura’s jaw tightened, teeth grinding together. 

He didn’t like this. He should’ve stayed silent. Should’ve kept pretending it was nothing, should’ve- 

“I really don’t wanna talk about it,” he growled, voice low and uncertain. “Them. Their group. Just- …just drop it, please?” 

He hated it- hated pleading- No more--

For a long moment, Endo didn’t move. His expression unreadable, body still as stone. Then, with a sudden huff of breath, he leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head with theatrical exaggeration.

“Alright, fine, fine,” he said, tone light but slightly displeased. “I’ll let you off the hook… for now. ”

Sakura’s glare could have peeled paint. “There is no ‘for now.’”

“Oh, there definitely is,” Endo shot back, a shit-eating grin slipping easily back onto his face as the mood lightened.

A low groan rattled from Sakura’s throat as he slouched forward, fingers digging into his temples. “You’re insufferable. ”

“Only when I care~”

“Fuck off. ”

But the words came with less heat now, almost tired. Like the bark had gone out of him.

For a second, silence settled between them.

“…Still,” Endo said after a pause, voice gentler now, “that reaction was serious.”

Sakura stiffened again- but Endo, to his credit, didn’t push. He just started idly twirling his spoon between two tattooed fingers, letting the metal clink softly against the table with each pass.

“Whatever this is,” he continued, eyes flicking toward Sakura without pinning him down, “You don’t wanna deal with it. That’s fine. I’m not exactly a therapist anyway.”

Sakura let out a dry scoff, finally sitting upright again. “No shit.”

A chuckle rumbled from the older teen. “But if it’s something that could mess you up in a fight, you should fix that. Quick. Wouldn’t want to see you falter and break now after you’ve come so far.”

The comment landed hard. Too hard. Sakura’s fingers tightened against his arms.

Endo’s gaze sharpened as the spoon stilled. “You can be as strong as you want, but if somethin’ like that happens again…” He tapped the spoon once more- clink - before letting it drop beside his bowl of pudding. “You’re dead.”

Lowering his mismatched eyes to the fallen spoon, Sakura scowls, fingers twitching restlessly. 

He knows. Damn it, he knows. The dizziness. The white-hot panic. The blurred faces. If Endo hadn’t caught him when he did- if it’d been anyone else, somewhere else- he’d be lying on the pavement, a sitting target.

Sighing, Endo leaned forward and rested his chin lazily against one hand. “So,” he said with that slow drawl, “I’ve got a deal for you.”

Sakura pauses, brows furrowing in confusion. “Deal…? What kind of deal?”

Knowing that he had caught the boy’s interest, Endo smirked, his head tilting to the side. “I teach you how to fight properly, make sure you don’t freeze up next time. And in exchange…” He waved a tattooed hand lazily in the air. “You don’t get to run off on me just yet.”

There it was. The catch…. Which seemed relatively harmless, surprisingly? 

A scoff tore from Sakura’s throat before he could stop it. “So now I’m some kind of entertainment to you?”

“You wound me, Sakura~,” came the singsong reply, followed by a faux-dramatic clutch to the chest. “Perhaps I simply crave your company.”

God, he was unbearable.

A long silence stretched between them while Sakura sat back to mull it over, absentmindedly chewing on the inside of his cheek.

This was a bad idea. Obviously.

Letting someone this smug, this perceptive, this nosy into his guard? Someone that was previously his enemy? Who had hurt Furin, his friends and Makochi as a whole?

Disastrous.

But so was what happened earlier. The white-hot panic. The static roar in his head. The loss of control- the feeling of helplessness.

If Endo hadn’t been there- if it had been someone cruel, or worse, someone curious- he might’ve ended up with more than bruises. If they had recognized him–

His hand moved before he could argue with it, reaching across the table to grab Endo’s with a firm, decisive grip.

“…Fine.”

For a beat, Endo blinked. Then his entire face split into a slow, wicked grin, like a cat that got the cream.

“Glad to have you aboard, pretty boy.”

The words hit like a brick.

Color surged to Sakura’s ears before he could stop it, his whole body springing up defensively. “Shut the fuck up!”

Endo cackled, ecstatically tipping his pudding cup back with victorious flair.

Sakura, scowling and pink-faced, finished his own more quietly- refusing to give the damned bastard any more satisfaction than he already had.

After the empty bowls clinked into the sink and socks met hardwood, Endo beckoned the younger to follow along for their first ‘training session’- to let Sakura get a first taste of what awaited him. 

So he followed Endo down the hall to another room, which turned out to be a connected garage, with the single-minded focus of someone running from something. 

Not literally- but emotionally? Absolutely.

The garage was cooler than the rest of the house, light pouring in from a high window and catching on the black curves of an expensive-looking motorcycle parked like a centerpiece. 

But the real stage lay beside it- an open mat, ringed by worn equipment, weights, ropes, gloves. It smelled like hard work and grit, the kind of place where silence came from effort, not peace.

Endo rolled his shoulders and walked to the center, already tugging on fingerless gloves. “Alright, rule number one,” he called over his shoulder, “I don’t hold back unless you tap out or bleed, alright?”

Sakura gave him a look. “So I just die here, got it.”

“Only a little.”

A scoff. A stretch.

The air grew heavier- not tense, but charged. Endo’s movements were fluid, a lazy sort of grace born from someone who knew his body better than his own thoughts. Sakura mirrored the stance, more rigid, more precise. Still learning. Still burning with the need to erase what had happened.

Endo hummed low in his throat, circling the other like a predator on the prowl. “Y’know, physical training’s gonna work best for you. You’re instinctive. Explosive. The rate you grew in just one fight against me?”

He clapped his hands together, grinning fiercely. “Insane.”

Huffing, Sakura turned, keeping his eyes on the taller man. “You’re just saying that to butter me up.”

“I don’t butter. I marinate,” he replied, tone grave. “Let it sink in.”

“God, you’re such an unbearable jerk. How does anyone put up with you?”

“It’s only a matter of time before you fall victim to my charm, too~”

Fighting down his flush, the two-toned boy rolled his eyes at the other’s antics.

“Yeah right!”

Sakura lunged- fast, testing, a probe more than a strike. Endo slid around it with an excited laugh, twisting low and pivoting behind him.

They exchanged a few more strikes- fluid dodges, tight counters, footwork that scraped against the mat. No talking now, just breath and movement. Sakura didn’t think. He reacted. The rhythm of the fight steadied his pulse, gave him something solid to grip onto- something to let out the built-up anxiety and stress of the past day.

And it was thrilling. 

Until the front door opened.

But neither of them noticed it right away, lost in the shuffle and blur of limbs, in the growing sharpness of focus.

Then a shadow stretched across the edge of the mat.

Endo twisted out of range, spinning from Sakura’s feint, but his grin widened- not from the dodge.

“Ah, Takiishi! Welcome home!”

Sakura froze mid-motion. His weight shifted too late, momentum nearly sending him stumbling forward. He whipped around, already feeling the hairs on his neck stand up.

And there, framed in the doorway like the universe had a sense of humor and bad timing-

Takiishi Chika.

Blank-eyed. Silent. Watching.

The air in the garage went still, tense.

Endo’s grin only grew sharper.

Sakura’s pulse, meanwhile, forgot how to stay calm.

Chapter Text

Takiishi didn’t speak.

He didn’t have to.

His presence alone- lean frame braced in the doorway, golden gaze flat and unreadable- felt like a sudden drop in atmospheric pressure. The kind that prickled under the skin and told you lightning was coming.

Sakura couldn’t tear his eyes away. Somehow… now that he saw the man in better light… Did he seem familiar…? 

He didn’t know what expression he was making, but he could feel the sweat cooling on his skin, the tight pull of his pulse beneath it, the sudden jolt in his spine like someone had run ice down his back.

'Whatever...'

A beat passed.

Then another.

Endo, damn him for not warning him, was the one to break it.

“Well,” he chirped, righting his posture and wiping off the thin sheen of sweat off of his face, “you’re home earlier than expected. Did everythin’ go well?”

Takiishi gave no response. Not even a blink.

Unsure how to react to their new spectator, Sakura tensed, fingers still curled half-tight like he might be called to punch again at any moment. But the fight had stopped. Or rather, paused. Frozen under the weight of a new variable he hadn’t accounted for.

He didn’t know how to greet him. Didn’t know if he even should. It would be polite, right? He was in their house…

But something about Takiishi’s gaze made the words catch. Not sharp, not hostile- just watching. Quietly. Blankly. Like he was waiting to see if there was any point in sticking around.

Endo thankfully spoke up again before the silence could stretch for too long. “Guess that’s a yes. Well, since you’re here now- Wanna stay and watch?” He stretched his arms overhead, his grin practically splitting his face. “Sakura’s just gettin’ warmed up.”

Still no answer. But Takiishi stepped inside anyway, hands tucked in the pockets of his jacket as he leaned against the nearest wall, gaze settling on Sakura again with the interest of someone watching a particularly slow-loading video.

Sakura shifted his stance, shoulders tight with unease. Alright, this is fine. He could just pretend that the man was some kind of statue and not the one that had clashed fists with Umemiya himself and nearly won.

‘What the hell.’

Endo, unfazed as ever, clapped his gloved hands once and turned back toward Sakura. “Alright, ready for round two?”

He wasn’t sure he was. Not with Takiishi watching. But some part of him- maybe the part that had agreed to all this in the first place- refused to back down.

“Fine,” he muttered, resetting his posture and footwork.

They launched back into it without hesitation. Fists flying. Feet scraping the padded floor. Endo didn’t hold back, and Sakura didn’t ask him to. Every impact rang in his bones like a challenge. He welcomed it. Needed it. The sting of movement. The burn in his lungs. The focus it demanded.

And then- just like before Takiishi had interrupted them- it all narrowed.

The world bled away. The walls, the ceiling, the weight of someone else’s gaze. Gone. There was only the fight. Endo’s movements, the rhythm of his strikes, the pattern of his footwork. Weapons. All of it. Every feint, every shift in pressure. His mind fell into that cold, efficient place that had kept him alive more times than he cared to count.

His mismatched eyes glazed over as he tested out the capabilities this newly mastered headspace offered him, going over the many weapons around him- all of them different moves and tricks he could put to use against Endo’s fierce strikes. 

Unbeknownst to Sakura, Endo saw it happen. Saw that shift in his gaze, the same one from their earlier fight- and felt a rush at being caught in the spotlight of his honed-in, all-consuming focus once more.

But before he could comment- or test this focused state that Sakura had slipped into- Takiishi moved.

Fast.

He darted forward and, in one smooth motion, shoved Endo aside just as Sakura’s fist shot out, knuckles narrowly missing his shoulder. The red-blonde caught the spot like it had always been his, rolling his neck once with the slow disinterest of someone cracking open a book they weren’t sure they’d finish.

Sakura blinked and lost his focus, thrown off by the sudden switch. “... Tch.”

Behind them, Endo cackled, audibly delighted. “Ohhh, are you interested, Takiishi?”

The other man didn’t answer right away. Just stared at Sakura with those familiar golden eyes, unmoved by the glare he received in return.

Then, at last- calmly, evenly- he spoke.

“Move.”

Endo raised his hands and backed away from the mat, eyes gleaming mischievously. “Yessir~” he drawled, practically vibrating with delight. “I’ll just sit back and enjoy the show.”

Sakura slowly exhaled through his nose. Great. Now he had a new opponent. And worse- one he couldn’t read at all nor had any experience against. 

He shifted his weight again, fists rising like muscle memory. If Takiishi- the man who Umemiya struggled against- wanted to fight…  

Fine.

Then he’d damn well try to keep up–

But Takiishi didn’t give him time to think.

The moment Sakura lifted his fists, the red-blonde moved- no sound, no warning. Just a sharp step forward and a sweeping jab that ghosted past Sakura’s cheek before he even registered the shift.

Fast.

Not just fast- clean. Controlled. Almost natural. Where Endo had moved like a storm with weight behind every swing, Takiishi was all precision. His limbs carved through the air like blades, efficient and exact, wasting next to nothing. It kind of reminded him of Suo’s style.

Sakura stumbled back, barely ducking the next hit. His heartbeat thundered in his ears. His body moved on instinct, each reflex a desperate calculation to not get floored in the first ten seconds.

They circled. Takiishi struck. Sakura blocked.

Barely.

A kick came next- low, sharp, with enough force that Sakura’s calves burned just bracing for impact. He grit his teeth. Forced himself not to retreat.

He was being dissected. Measured. Every reaction filed away for the next strike.

And still- he pushed forward.

Even though he knew he had no chance of winning this.

Sakura ducked low under a sweeping elbow, feeling it cut the air just above his head. His shoulder clipped the mat, but he twisted, rolled back, came up swinging, falling back into that same black and white focus as he assessed the weapons at his disposal.

Perhaps… just maybe… if he tried this…?

A punch grazed Takiishi’s ribs. Barely. Enough to make the other shift his footing.

The two-toned teen lunged again. Faster this time. He didn’t stop to think- he couldn’t. There wasn’t time. He just moved, striking wide and then pivoting sharply, forcing Takiishi to adjust. He wasn’t winning- but he was learning.

And it was fun. Fighting against someone much stronger than him, being able to keep up, even though Takiishi wasn’t taking him seriously, it was thrilling. 

From the edge of the mat, Endo practically glowed.

“Ooooh~ that’s it, pretty boy!” he crowed, unable to help the light blush that spread across his face at the sight of the two. “You two look godly.”

Sakura didn’t hear him. Not really. His world had narrowed to fast flashes of red-blonde, the burn in his lungs, the ache in his legs.

Another blow came- Sakura ducked under.

A kick- he twisted out of the way.

A jab- he caught the rhythm this time. Blocked. Answered with a counter.

Their arms collided. A snap of pressure in the air between them. The contact jarred up Sakura’s bones, but he didn’t falter.

Takiishi’s golden eyes flicked to him. Not with approval. Not quite.

But interest.

“Not bad,” the fiery-haired teen murmured.

Sakura panted, barely processing the words before Takiishi struck again- and this time, he didn’t miss.

A sharp twist. A sudden sweep. Sakura’s feet left the mat before he even understood what had happened. The impact against the floor rang through his spine, air leaving his lungs in a sharp gasp.

He lay there for a breath, staring up at the rafters... wait-

‘Shit- am I seeing stars? Damn-’

Then- after collecting himself and blinking away the blurriness- he sat up. Dragged a forearm across his sweaty brow. Adjusted the gloves Endo had lent him with shaking fingers.

“…Again.” 

Takiishi cocked his head at the two-toned boy's request. His tone was neutral, almost bored. “You’re not at your best. It’s no use.”

Sakura bristled, breath hitching to spit something sharp- something defensive- but Endo was already moving.

He pushed off the wall and was beside him in a second, dragging Sakura up by the arm like he weighed nothing, one hand steady on his back to keep him from tipping over.

“He’s interesting, isn’t he, Takiishi?” Endo purred, half-laughing as he held Sakura a touch too close. The teen in question scowled and resisted the urge to hiss at the bastard for getting all touchy.

Takiishi simply shrugged one shoulder, tone disinterested. “I guess. He adapts fast.”

Endo grinned wider, looking all too smug. “Wonderful! I’d say that’s enough for today- time to set up your training schedule, yeah?”

He stiffened the moment Endo’s heavy arm lingered just a second too long at his back. With a sharp shrug, Sakura broke the contact, glaring up at him through black and white bangs. “Training schedule?” he echoed, tone flat, breath still ragged from the last round.

Unbothered as always, Endo hummed as he turned toward the cluttered shelf near the garage wall. A second later, his phone surfaced in his hand. “Seeing as you’re probably not willing to skip school–”

“Damn right I’m not,” came the quick mutter. Sakura tugged at the velcro of his gloves, peeling them off one by one. The fabric clung, damp with sweat and heat, and came free with a soft, unpleasant sound. His face didn’t shift, but internally, he winced.

“Then afternoons, evenings, and weekends it is,” Endo continued, already tapping something into his phone. “That soundin’ fine to you?”

There was a pause as Sakura worked off the other glove, fingers flexing a bit once they were free. His eyes narrowed at the stupidly pleased expression stretched across Endo’s face- smug, expectant, irritatingly warm. 

‘I’m gonna punch this pompous jerk, I swear–’

“…Fine,” he huffed. One word, grudging. Then he stepped forward slightly, chin tipped up almost challengingly.

“But no one else can know about this.” He really didn’t want the others to find out he’d struck a deal with none other than Endo Yamato.

That got Endo’s attention. Teal-blue eyes lit up with amusement, his smile curling slow and crooked like a secret. “Of course,” he said, lowering his voice. “It’s our little secret~ Ah- and Takiishi’s, I guess.”

An eye-roll was the only reply the tattooed man got. Arms folded tight across his chest, Sakura looked away, jaw tight. How the hell had he gotten himself into this?

…Ah right, trauma. 

Still, when Endo stepped closer, phone held out with his own contact already pulled up, he didn’t move back.

“Here,” Endo said lightly. “Call me if anything comes up or you need to cancel. But feel free to text me when you’re bored as well~ I make for an excellent conversationist.”

The screen stared back at him, a neat little name and number glowing like a trap.
Sakura blinked, hesitating longer than necessary. “… Uh. Wh- why would I text you when I’m bored?!”

That earned him a sharp grin and a glint in Endo’s eye, like he’d just won some game Sakura didn’t know they were playing.

“Ohh? You blushin’, Sakura~? Never been handed a number by someone that likes ya?”

“SHUT UP!”

The shout came before he could stop it, ears burning hotter by the second as he turned away sharply, arms crossed so tight it nearly hurt. God. Why was his face so hot?

From behind them, a long, weary sigh broke the tension like a pin to a balloon.

“You’re loud,” came Takiishi’s flat comment. “Can we go eat now?”

At once, Endo straightened up, clapping his hands together like they hadn’t just been teetering on the edge of mild emotional warfare. “Of course! Where do you wanna go?”

“Don’t care,” came the immediate, predictably bored reply.

“Well, how about that new Chinese place you liked?” Endo offered, already pocketing his phone and strolling toward another shelf near the garage door.

“…Sure.”

“Perfect!” The dark-haired man turned, flashing another grin over his shoulder. “We can drop off Sakura on our way there, as well~”

“Ah? No- you don’t have to,” Sakura immediately protested, caught off guard. His hands came up half-heartedly. “I can just walk home-”

“No can do~” Endo waved the thought off like an annoying bug. “It’s quite a long walk back to Makochi, and I believe it’s already getting dark.”

Already getting dark..? Had they really spent that much time together? …Huh. 

“… Tsk . Fine.”

“Lovely! Then let’s go- here, Sakura, catch!”

Something flew at him fast enough to make him flinch. He barely snatched it out of the air in time, staring down at the black biking helmet now in his hands. It was sleek, heavy, and decorated with jagged flame decals. 

He stared at it like it might combust.

A few feet away, Takiishi grabbed a simpler helmet without a word while Endo moved toward the bulky black bike parked a few meters away from the training side of the garage. With a practiced motion, he bent down and started hooking up the attachable sidecar.

“…Huh?” Sakura said smartly.

“Takiishi’s taking the sidecar,” Endo replied, giving the freshly secured rig a satisfied pat. “So you’ll be with me~!” He slapped the back seat of the bike and turned, smirking wide.

“…Huh?!”

He didn’t get a second clarification. Takiishi was already strapping on his helmet, and Endo was pulling out his keys with a soft hum, whistling like this was the most normal arrangement in the world.

Sakura stared at the helmet again.

…He really should’ve just booked it out the door. 

-o-O-o-

Somehow- somehow- he ended up on the bike.

It had taken a full five minutes of fumbled excuses, muttered protests, and awkward half-steps backward while Endo played the devil on both shoulders. Takiishi hadn’t said a word the entire time, which somehow only made things worse.

In the end, all it took was Endo’s raised eyebrow and, “You get motion sick or are ya just scared of bikes?” and Sakura had snapped, “I’m not scared, asshole-!”

So here he was now.

Clinging to the back of Endo’s leather jacket like his life depended on it, white-knuckled fingers curled in awkward knots. The helmet felt slightly too big. The world blurred past in a rush of wind and orange-pink dusk, the muffled hum of the engine loud in his ears. At the very least, Endo drove well- surprisingly smooth, if fast. Confident. Focused.

Still didn’t make it less terrifying.

They came to a slow stop near the busier end of the main market street just as the sun kissed the horizon, dipping the narrow lanes in gold. 

Endo parked with a casual flourish, pulling his helmet off and shaking out his wavy hair like he was in a damn shampoo commercial.

“You sure you don’t wanna come with us?” he asked cheerfully. “We wouldn’t mind your company~”

Sakura tugged his own helmet off and shoved it into Endo’s chest a little harder than necessary. “It’s fine. You’ve done enough for me, damn it.”

“Sure, sure.” A laugh slipped from Endo’s throat, utterly unbothered. “I’ll contact you later to send over the full schedule, alright? Make sure not to drop dead before then.”

Before he could dodge, a hand ruffled through his two-toned hair.

“Oi-!” Sakura hissed, jerking back like he’d been burned. His face went hot. “Fuck off!”

“So mean~” Endo sighed dramatically, already swinging his leg back over the bike. “Oh well, until next time, Sakura! Miss ya already~”

The bi-colored teen muttered something too low to catch, though the word “weirdo” was definitely in there somewhere.

He stood at the corner as they pulled off, engine fading into the wind, and watched until they rounded another turn and disappeared out of view.

Only then did he finally let out a sigh.

“…Seriously, what’s wrong with those guys…”

Despite the grumbling, his shoulders loosened. His fists unclenched. And the knot in his chest- not gone, not yet, but… lighter.

Sakura turned, heading home with the sun at his back and the scent of street food in the air. Maybe they were both insufferable in their own ways, but…

Still.

He was grateful.

It was nearly dark by the time he trudged up the stairwell of the worn-down apartment building, each step creaking beneath his weight. He unlocked the door with practiced caution, slipped inside, and closed it quietly behind him.

Looking at it now in comparison to Endo’s place, he understood why his classmates had been so… weird about seeing his sorry-looking home. 

He kicked off his shoes and made his way inside, striding directly into his bedroom, eyes briefly scanning over the few belongings arranged with surprising care. 

The shelf by the wall still held the bundle of supplies Suo, Nirei, and the others had helped him gather- extra pens, notebooks, a protein bag, a tea set, and a folded blanket from Kiryu he hadn’t yet dared to use. All these little pieces of a life slowly being rebuilt.

He dropped onto the edge of his mattress with a quiet grunt and pulled his phone from his pocket, screen lighting up with a soft buzz. There it was- “E.Y." blinking back at him from the contacts list. No name. Just initials.

Just in case.

He remembered handing the phone over to Endo earlier so the guy could input it himself- Sakura’s fingers still struggled with the touchscreen, especially when flustered. Endo hadn’t said anything, but the raised eyebrow at his other contact names had said enough. Thankfully, no teasing followed.

Sakura stared at the contact for a while.

Furin- his friends- didn’t need to know about this.

They’d already done more than enough for him- welcoming him, helping him adjust, sticking their necks out, offering him something that felt suspiciously like family. Something he was never allowed to have–

He wasn’t about to risk dragging them into whatever the hell this was. If he was lucky, that group would screw off eventually. Leave town. Disappear.

…Right?

Groaning, the teen dragged his hand down his face as he tossed the phone onto the low folding table his classmates got him before hooking it onto the power cable. The screen dimmed, and the room grew still again.

His gaze wandered, eventually landing on the ceramic tea set Suo had gifted him. He hadn’t used it yet…

“Ah, might as well…” he murmured under his breath, already reaching for the kettle.

He moved slowly, quietly, shuffling into the ‘kitchen’, filling it up and setting it onto the small gas burner he had been given before digging through the tea packets. The faint crackle of the packet opening broke the silence.

“Green tea should be fine…” he mumbled, dropping the bag into one of the cups. Water began to bubble behind him, soft and low.

He stood there and watched.

The steam slowly curled upward, distorting the reflection on the stovetop as his mind wandered restlessly behind his mismatched eyes. 

Too much had happened in too little time.

Sakura leaned against the counter as the steam thickened, warmth brushing against his face. But his skin felt cold. A delayed chill worked its way down his spine as the weight of everything settled into his bones.

What would’ve happened if Endo hadn’t shown up?

The question struck him like a gut punch.

Would they have noticed him? That group- those bastards wearing that logo- they’d been too damn close. What if they were here for him? What if they had taken him away before he could even react?

His fists clenched. His breath hitched.

What if no one had come?

The sharp whistle of the kettle sliced through the rising static in his brain, jarring him out of the spiral. Sakura flinched before gritting his teeth and snatching the kettle from the burner. The ceramic cup clinked softly as he poured, the steam blooming anew.

He dropped a sugar packet in without measuring and stirred with quick, sharp motions.

He couldn’t afford to freeze up again.

Endo had warned him- plain and simple. If you hesitate, you’re done. If you lose focus, you lose everything.

Sakura brought the cup to his lips and sipped, barely tasting the tea as he kept his gaze fixed on the phone charging across the room. The soft glow of the screen pulsed with the percentage ticking slowly upward. “E.Y.” sat quietly in his contacts.

It… kind of annoyed him.

How easily someone had barged into his life, flipped it upside down, and somehow made him… feel less alone.

But more than that, it terrified him.

He hated this. Hated the reliance. Hated that Endo had become someone he might actually need. That after so long fending for himself, someone else was part of the equation- someone who had come too close to getting involved with the past he wanted to bury.

But logic overpowered pride.

If he wanted to keep this- this fragile, hard-earned peace in Makochi- in Furin- if he wanted to keep walking to school with Nirei and Suo, keep laughing quietly at Tsugeura’s enthusiastic commentary, and learn Kiryu’s social media tricks, keep pretending, even for a moment, that he belonged somewhere…

Then he had to get stronger.

He set the teacup down and stared at his reflection in the dark surface of the tea, distorted by faint ripples.

To protect this new life. 

To protect himself, his friends, and the town that had welcomed him so openly. 

He’d do whatever it took.

Even if that meant shaking hands with their previous enemy.

Chapter Text

Dark.

Too dark to breathe. Too loud to scream.

In the dream, it was always like this. A flood of shadows pressing in from all sides, muffled voices bleeding through the seams. Mumbles, whispers- names he wasn’t supposed to remember and faces he couldn’t forget. 

Laughter, too. Sharp and wrong, echoing in cold concrete rooms with blood-slick floors.

“Don’t move, freak- Hey! He’ll bruise if you hit him again. Can’t cover that up with how damn pale he is.”

“He’s just a kid, you moron, don’t break him.”

“Ah, you can always sell the organs if the little freak does end up breaking.”

“I bet those pretty eyes alone could double the worth, ay?”

Flashes. Fingers yanking at his shirt. Lights flickering. A grin carved into the dark, cigarette-stained teeth and a tongue clicking behind yellowed gums. The man reached for his face- no, not his face. His eye. That one eye.

The gold one.

“Wow,” the voice drawled, low and too close. “It really is like a marble.”

He couldn’t move- he wanted to- wanted to get away. 

Couldn’t scream with that damn muzzle strapped tight to his face, pressing into his skin until it bruised, damp with spit and bile. The leather bit into the corners of his mouth, holding back the cry building in his throat like a dam on the verge of breaking.

Blood.

It filled his mouth anyway- warm, coppery, too thick. He choked on it. Swallowed it. The hand was nearing, fingers outstretched like they had every right to touch him. To take. To claim.

He didn’t want that. He didn’t want it. 

No. 

No. No–

“What a pretty lil’ freakshow~” the voice cooed, just past the mesh of the muzzle. “You’ll be sure to fetch us a good price, right?”

Click.

The lock came loose. The muzzle came off.

And he lunged.

A crunch- something cracked, bone or cartilage, he didn’t know.

A scream- high and garbled, not his.

Blood- spurting, thick, hot. Coating his tongue, splashing across his vision, painting the walls red like someone slashed open the sky and let it bleed.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Down his chin, onto his collar, pooling beneath his knees. The floor was nothing but red, and he was drowning in it, teeth bared, mismatched eyes wide, heart thundering like he was still caged–

Sakura woke with a start.

A harsh breath tore through his lungs as Sakura bolted upright, drenched in sweat, the sheets tangled around his legs like restraints. His shirt was soaked through, clinging to his back, his chest, his throat.

‘Damn it.’

Judging by the light filtering through the window, it was already noon. The overcast sky cast a pale glow through his tiny apartment, painting everything in a dull, gray wash. But none of it mattered- his body still throbbed with the leftover adrenaline of a fight long since ended.

His heart hadn’t stopped racing.

He sat there, fists tight on the edge of the mattress, trying to remember how to breathe.

It was… Sunday. He was in Makochi. No locks. No cages. No hands reaching for his face.

He was fine. 

But the feeling clung to him like smoke. Acidic, wrong, lingering.

He hadn’t screamed, but his throat still burned.

Still restless. Still on edge.

Still not safe.

Groaning, he pushed himself up and wobbled toward the kitchen sink, hands trembling as he splashed cold water across his face. 

The nightmare clung to his skin like a stubborn shadow- one he hadn’t seen since moving to Makochi, since joining Furin- since that damned dream on Friday– 

He cursed under his breath, willing the heaviness to fade, before dragging himself back to the thin mattress where he’d slept most of the morning.

His fingers brushed against the cool surface of his fully charged phone. He grabbed it, mismatched eyes immediately flicking to the screen as he unlocked it. 

The class chat of 1-1 buzzed with their usual noise- squabbles over some new game he had no understanding of. He huffed softly, the trivial arguments feeling far removed from his restless mind.

Then, a message popped up from… Endo? What now?

Pushing aside his troubled mind, Sakura opened their chat.

>E.Y.: Your top-secret training officially starts next weekend, unless you wanna come back today and grace me with your presence~?

A scowl tugged at Sakura’s lips, heat creeping up his neck as he started to type back, “Fuck off you creep” - but mid-typing, he froze. His eyes lingered on the screen, the words suddenly feeling too sharp. With a reluctant sigh, he deleted the message and tapped out something else.

>Sakura: Fine, don’t have anything else to do.

>E.Y.: Great! I’ll pick you up towards the side of the market street from yesterday.

>Sakura: Sure.

>E.Y.: See you in 30!

Blinking, Sakura let out a short, sharp huff and stood up from the futon. The nightmare still clung faintly to the edges of his mind, but he shoved it down. Time to move.

A quick shower was all he needed to fully wake up- just enough to wash off the sweat and sticky residue from the fight yesterday. 

Changing out of his damp clothes and into one of his few outfits that weren’t his school uniform, he snagged a packaged bread roll from the small stash his classmates had pushed onto him after he’d helped the old lady from the bakery earlier that week. Stale or not, it was better than nothing.

With about fifteen minutes left before Endo’s arrival, Sakura strolled toward the spot near the market street where they’d parted ways yesterday. He folded his arms and leaned against the rough brick wall, trying to settle his restless thoughts while waiting for the inevitable.

Only minutes later, the newly familiar rumble of a motorbike reached his ears. Endo pulled up, the bike’s engine humming low and steady. Takiishi Chika was also with him, lounging comfortably in the sidecar, golden eyes glued to his phone.

Endo flipped off his helmet with a dramatic shake of his head, a smirk playing on his lips as he spotted Sakura. His gloved hand shot up in a casual wave- Ah, right. Endo had mentioned tending to cover up his tattoos so nobody would immediately recognize him. 

“Did ya miss me~?” The older man called out with a teasing lilt.

Sakura narrowed his eyes, lips curling into a playfully sarcastic smile. “You wish.”

“I do, in fact!” Endo grinned, clearly enjoying the reaction.

The teens eye twitched in irritation. Fighting the urge to smack the tattooed man on the back of the head, he instead swatted Endo’s reaching hand away as he stepped closer.

The grin on the taller man's face only widened as he pulled an extra helmet from the sidecar and tossed it toward Sakura. The packaged breadroll forgotten for the moment, the teen caught the helmet awkwardly, fingers fumbling over the unfamiliar straps.

Chuckling softly, Endo reached around him to help, his hands warm and steady as he adjusted the fit. That sudden closeness set Sakura’s cheeks aflame, and he snapped, heterochromatic eyes darting away.

“Hey! Don’t get all up in my personal space, damn jerk,” he hissed, voice sharper than intended. Flustered, he tugged the straps a bit more on his own, desperate to reclaim some distance.

Endo just laughed, unbothered and entirely too amused at Sakura’s fumbling. “Since it’s already close to afternoon, Takiishi wanted to go grab a snack after dealing with a rowdy group.”

Pausing, Sakura’s brow furrowed. “A rowdy group...?”

“Mhm! He was amazing, too- totally handed their asses to 'em! But don’t worry, none of them were part of Furin, Shishitoren, or that other gang you teamed up with. Just some lowlives causin' trouble. I promise~”

The bi-colored teen still looked skeptical but nodded slowly. “...Alright.”

From the sidecar, Takiishi’s voice cut through, dry and impatient: “Hurry up already.”

“Of course! Sorry, sorry,” Endo said, flashing an apologetic grin in his direction. “Come on, Sakura, get on.”

Shaking his head with a mix of annoyance and reluctant acceptance, Sakura swung his leg over the bike and settled behind Endo. Tentatively, he wrapped his arms around Endo’s waist, the contact feeling strange but oddly grounding.

A low hum of appreciation slipped from Endo’s lips before the bike roared back to life and they pulled away from the curb.

Eventually, they found a quiet local café a little further from the bustle of Makochi’s main streets. Endo ordered cake and boba for all of them- Sakura picking a simple slice of chocolate cake, a bit stale but better than the breadroll. 

When the bill came, Sakura reached for his wallet, determined to pay his own way. 

But Endo was faster and waved him off with a sly grin. “Relax, I’m treating my guest today.”

Sakura huffed softly, mildly hissy but not pushing back. Endo just smirked, clearly enjoying the aborted protest.

With Endo covering the bill, they grabbed their snacks and took a short ride back to his apartment- his house? The bike hummed beneath them, their helmets shielding them against the wind as the city slipped past in a blur. 

The ride was quick, but enough to clear some of the restless tension coiling inside Sakura.

Back at Endo’s place, they settled in to finish their snacks. Endo and Sakura talked quietly about training plans and tactics, while Takiishi was absorbed in his Switch console, uninterested in their chatter.

Then, finally, Endo stretched and offered a now gloveless hand. “Well then, shall we?”

Sakura caught the meaning almost immediately- time to hit the garage and get to work. Rolling his shoulders, a small smirk breaking through, he took Endo’s hand.

“Of course.”

-o-O-o-

Weeks passed with their secret training sessions hidden from prying eyes at school. Sakura was slowly getting used to this new rhythm with Endo and Takiishi, careful not to let anyone at Furin find out.

And although the group of men from Friday evening thankfully hadn’t reappeared, his eyes stayed sharp during patrols with Class 1-1. The knot of unease lingered, a restless shadow he couldn’t shake- how could he, when he was terrified that they came to Makochi because of him? To take him away again?

“Sakura-san?,” Sakura heard quietly one afternoon during a break, pulling him out of his thoughts. He turned to see the meek, blonde-haired boy watching him with concern.

“You’ve ...been rather jumpy lately,” Nirei said softly, voice low enough that only Sakura could hear. “Is everything alright? The others are worried too, but… you didn’t seem hurt or anything, so we weren’t too sure…”

Ah, he should’ve known they’d pick up on it… Perceptive, as they were. 

Sakura’s throat tightened. The last thing he wanted was to drag anyone else into his mess. With a huff and a quick shake of his head, he deflected.

“Just tired,” he muttered quietly, avoiding Nirei’s concerned gaze. “Nothin’ to worry about.”

Nirei studied him for a moment longer but didn’t press. Instead, he gave a small nod.

“A-Alright, but- if anything comes up, you can rely on us, Sakura-san.”

Sorry, Nirei. It was better this way. He couldn’t rely on them for this- If they were to get involved, he’d-...!

Digging his pocketed hand into his skin, the two-toned boy simply hummed in understanding, the small amount of pain keeping him grounded- stopping him from spiraling too far.

No, he wouldn’t let it get that far. 

“Nirei-kun, Sakura-kun, break is over,” Suo called as he approached, hands casually held behind his back. His auburn eye flicked between them- lingering on Nirei’s concerned expression, then on Sakura’s clenched jaw.

“Hm.” A soft sound, thoughtful. “Is everything alright?”

There was no suspicion in his tone. Just that knowing look Suo sometimes got- the kind that said he probably knew what Nirei had asked before even hearing it.

Sakura blinked, forcing his fingers to unclench, the dull ache in his leg leaving behind a shallow pulse.

“Yeah,” he replied. “Fine.”

Neither of them looked convinced.

Nirei glanced down, clearly unsure. Suo gave a slow blink, unreadable- but didn’t say more.

It was better this way. Safer.

‘Sorry.’

-o-O-o-

The next few days blurred into one another. 

Sakura kept his head low, grinding through classes and patrols while making damn sure to keep his two lives separated. Avoiding his classmates’ curious yet concerned looks the best he could, no matter how much they stung. 

Then, one day, after his friends- Nirei, Suo, Kiryu and Tsugeura- had kind of intruded in his home to ‘hang out’ together (he was sure this was because he had been acting ‘off’ lately-) , they ended up visiting the local mall of Makochi. 

He hadn’t even had a chance to argue as they dragged him along to check out the summer sale, which was how he found himself being led through half the damn stores in the gigantic building.

Nirei had somehow taken it upon himself to be Sakura’s personal fashion advisor, carefully holding up breezy short-sleeved shirts and murmuring about “soft tones that compliment your skin, Sakura-san,” while Sakura tugged the hem of his hoodie lower and muttered something unrepeatable.

At one point, Kiryu wandered over from the adjacent store with a stupidly massive plush in his arms- some round, goofy, unidentifiable creature with a star on its belly. “Isn't it so adorable?" he asked cheerily, holding it up like an offering.

Sakura just nodded wordlessly, not too sure what the pink-haired boy saw in that thing’s half-lidded eyes.

A few shops later, Tsugeura practically sprinted toward a display pull-up bar in a sports outlet, declaring, “Just testing the durability!” before immediately doing five reps in front of a terrified employee. … He wondered if the damn ground could just swallow him up already.

‘Better get out of here before they throw us out-’

Meanwhile, Suo and Nirei had detoured into a quiet store that sold tea blends and other herbal goods. The air inside was cool and fragrant, a stark contrast to the mall’s chaotic corridors. 

Suo inspected each tin like it was a sacred artifact, murmuring about body heat and relaxation properties while Nirei nodded along earnestly. Sakura joined them, though remained standing a bit off to the side, arms crossed, watching them with something between amusement and fond exasperation.

It was all going so well.

Sakura had even gotten the chance to try his first iced frappuccino in the food plaza- cold, sweet, creamy- some ridiculous blend of indulgence and caffeine that had made his eyes go wide. He’d downed half the thing before Nirei could even warn him about the sugar crash.

They’d laughed. For a moment, things had felt… light again- normal. 

And then Kiryu’s older sister Akari showed up accompanied by that bastard, who had the nerve to brag about exploiting her kindness for money when after she had excused herself for the bathroom.

How badly Sakura wished to punch straight through his glasses and break his nose–

And while none of them had known that Kiryu had an older sister- and none of them knew about just how big their house would be when Akari decided to invite them over after the jerk ran off (with his tail tucked between his legs. Such a damned weakling, fleeing from them simply glaring at him) - they gladly accepted her invitation, all too curious to learn more about their pink-haired friend. 

They were very grateful for Akari’s hospitality, even though Kiryu seemed a bit nervous- no, unsure?- about it all. Was he worried they would treat him differently now?

Sakura wasn't sure, so he simply pushed those thoughts aside to sort out later, instead focusing on studying his surroundings. 

But nothing could’ve prepared Sakura for what came after. 

Just when they were sitting in Kiryu’s room, which was in a shed separate from the main house- why did the others act like this wasn’t normal?- and Kiryu had asked them what they wanted to talk about after Akari stepped outside, the sudden yell of a man’s voice forced his body to flinch.

“How many times do I have to tell you before it’ll get through your thick head?!”

The voice tore through the air like a shot.

Sakura’s body reacted before he even registered it. Nails digging into his palms, a cold flash of static jolted up his spine. His mismatched eyes flicked between Kiryu’s frozen expression and the doorway Akari had disappeared through.

‘...Hah?’

As it turns out, Kiryu’s father had unexpectedly come home early from his business trip. 

Sakura watched Kiryu turn in a rush, apology half-formed on his lips before he darted out the door, his footsteps quick and determined.

The group sat in stunned silence.

Then another shout rang out.

“Don’t talk back to me and just listen to what I tell you!! ”

Sakura stiffened.

His vision blurred at the edges.

“All you do is stand there! You can’t do anything! ”

And just like that, the world fractured.

The comfortable room faded. In its place- dark walls, a locked shed, the suffocating weight of isolation. A flash, then it twisted into the front hall of a middle-class home. 

A woman with arms crossed, lips curled in disdain. A boy just a bit taller than him, silent, standing in the shadows. And a man- towering, loud, rage spitting from his mouth as though Sakura was the reason for everything wrong in the world.

They had told him so many times-

His throat closed up.

Eyes burned.

The voices meshed, overlapping. 

It reminded him of the time before- When he still had...

No. He had never been welcome there in the first place. They had made it clear. 

A hand reached for the door. He was already halfway up before he knew what he was doing. 

Rage, panic, and that unbearable pressure behind his ribs coiled like a spring. He was going to give that bastard a piece of his mind- tear him to shreds if he had to- because no one deserved to be talked to like that. Not Akari. Not Kiryu.

He didn’t make it.

Tsugeura's arms wrapped around him first. Then Nirei, then Suo.

“Sakura-kun. Let Kiryu-kun handle it.” Suo spoke calmly, though the too-tight hold his hand had on Sakura’s shoulder betrayed his true feelings. 

“Y-Yeah, he’s got this.” Tsugeura mumbled, although he did not sound too sure of that himself.

“Please Sakura-san, don’t- he wouldn’t want you to get involved.”

Feeling his jaw twitch, the bi-colored teen slowly exhaled to calm himself and relax his posture. They were right. It was hypocritical of him, especially with what he was hiding from them, but… 

Clicking his tongue, Sakura forced his hand to relax and slip off of the door. 

‘ Damn it.’ 

Then, slowly, he let himself be pulled back from the door. Yet they didn’t return to their seats- instead watching the argument through the small gap.

In the end, when the shouting had finally faded and the heavy footsteps of Kiryu’s father disappeared down the patio as he took some business related phone call, it was Kiryu who broke the silence first, asking his sister why she had apologized to their father, that the way he belittled her wasn’t fine even if she said so. 

But Akari only smiled gently in response. “Micchan… I’m sorry.”

Those simple words stopped the pink-haired teen short.

Kiryu turned away, lips pressed thin. “Never mind,” he muttered after a few seconds of hesitation. “I’m… sorry, too.”

The room fell quiet again. 

Kiryu was coming back to the shed.

And just as they were about to return to their seats, Nirei pulling at his arm to pull him away from the door, Sakura caught it- a look Akari threw over her shoulder in the direction her father had gone.

It wasn’t fear. Or even lingering sadness.

There was something… determined in her gaze. Focused. Like someone who’d just made up their mind about something important.

Sakura wasn’t sure what to make of it. But it stuck in his mind.

When Kiryu had come back they at first tried to act like nothing happened, but Tsugeura, unable to lie because it went against his ‘virtue’, ended up offering an earnest apology for overhearing the argument. 

The visit didn’t last much longer after that.

But that was understandable. 

That was how they found themselves walking home beneath a dusky sky, the air thick with summer warmth and the quiet that followed too many unspoken things.

Suo and Nirei led the way up ahead, chatting between themselves. Tsugeura lingered closer to the back, uneasily glancing over his shoulder now and then. Sakura trailed behind them all, hands buried in his pockets, thoughts circling like vultures.

That line Kiryu had muttered before they left wouldn’t stop playing in his head: “Akari was molded into someone who only knows how to laugh things off… but… I think… I ended up just like her, too.”

It lodged itself somewhere deep, sharp and unwelcome.

Because maybe… he understood that a little too well.

When one of the others- he didn’t even register who- turned to ask how they might cheer Kiryu up, it snapped him out of his spiral.

He didn’t answer. Just nodded, as if the answer was obvious. But in that moment, the decision was made.

That next day, Sakura returned to Happy Mall alone.

He retraced the path they’d walked together- past the bright summer displays, through aisles of clashing prints and pop music blaring overhead, the glare of fluorescent lights bouncing off polished tiles.

He didn’t look at anything else. Didn’t pause.

He already knew what he was here for.

He retraced their steps from before, slipping past a few food stalls and clothes shops before he eventually found it- still stuffed into the corner of the general store’s toy section, exactly where Kiryu had held it up with that dumb grin on his face.

That weird, oversized plushy.

Sakura stared at it for a beat.

Then reached for it without a word and picked up, scrutinizing it. 

“It’s cute, right?”

“WhA–”

After getting the lights scared out of him by one of the employees and finally buying the darn thing, Sakura didn’t think he’d stumble across Akari again while walking home. 

He didn’t approach her, instead just watched from a few meters away as she picked up an order from a couple of customers.

Confused, he shuffled a bit closer to the establishment, watching Akari disappear back behind the counter with the order she had just jotted down. But before he could get any closer, another employee suddenly popped up beside him, cheerily greeting him.

‘What is it with people jumping out on me today?!’

Awkwardly, Sakura waved her off and instead asked about Akari, to which the woman immediately assumed that it was ‘love at first sight’ (which he totally didn't blush and stutter at, shut up) and launched into rambling about Kiryu’s sister and how many fans she got. 

Kiryu hadn’t mentioned anything about Akari working at a café, only something about her going to college… Or rather, did he even know about this…? It didn’t seem like it. 

So after he thanked the short-haired woman for her insight, Sakura moved further along the street, mulling everything over.

It kept bothering him- everything about yesterday and today.

That determined look Akari had thrown after her father. The way Kiryu carried that guilt.

He wanted to do something about it- Wanted to, before training with Endo and Takiishi demanded his full focus again. Takiishi had surprisingly been joining their exercises more and more often lately, so he had to be much more careful with his dodging. 

Though… Now that he thought about those two, Endo had been acting kind of weird lately- well, weirder than usual. The taller man hovered around him more often when they were outside or on their way to pick up food. 

He didn’t know why and the man didn’t bother to tell him either...

'...Hm.'

Oh well, he could worry about that later. Kiryu was more important right now. 

Adjusting the shopping bag, Sakura pulled out his phone and stared at the screen for a moment.

It was Thursday… so maybe tomorrow he could bring Kiryu to the café? Show him just a snippet of what he saw yesterday after the siblings' little argument. 

That fierce determination Akari held in her gaze. 

Something he was all too familiar with.

And maybe- just maybe- it could help lift some of the weight. Ease some of that restlessness still clinging to Kiryu’s shoulders…

So that’s exactly what he did. 

-o-O-o-

The following day, after classes wrapped up and the usual open training at Furin got underway- available to all students not on patrol looking to sharpen their skills- Sakura waited for the right moment.

After his and Kiryu’s little sparring match ended, and the pink-haired teen wandered off to cool down, sticking his head under the water faucet outside, Sakura seized the opportunity- only to get a face full of water when Kiryu shook himself off like some kind of dog.

Still, after drying off, Kiryu agreed to come with him after school. Sakura hadn’t told him where they were going or why. Just that he wanted to show him something. Something that might help him feel even just a little better.

It seemed to work- at least for a moment.

When Kiryu saw his sister again- watched her at work from the street over, moving with a quiet confidence he hadn’t noticed before- there was a shift in his expression. A flicker of something softer. Recognition. 

Just as Sakura had suspected, he hadn’t known Akari had started working at this café.

But now he saw her in a new light. A strength that wasn’t loud, but unmistakable once you noticed it- The kind of strength Sakura deeply respected. And for once, he was glad he’d done something right. Glad he could give his friend that small bit of clarity.

But then he showed up again.

That glasses-wearing bastard. Hovering around Akari like an annoying mosquito that wouldn’t go away.

Neither of them had expected to see him again- let alone trail him through the factory district on the outskirts of Makochi. It had just been curiosity. A quick check to see where the guy was sneaking off to. Nor had they expected to stumble across the guys’ group either- loitering inside one of the many rundown warehouses like they owned the place.

And from what they overheard, the group of thugs already knew about glasses hanging around Akari. Knew it was for the money… and for some so-called ‘fun.’

Fun. Glasses promised them they’d get ‘some real fun’.

That was when Sakura felt his whole body jolt forward- an old trigger yanking at his spine, alarm bells screaming in his ears. His vision blurred as his surroundings twisted into something too familiar. Too close to that place.

‘Fun’- it meant nothing but pain, suffering and lifelong nightmares. 

Fury sparked fast under his skin, hot and blinding, and he was ready to lunge forward- to beat the bastard black and blue- demanding him to explain what the hell he meant by fun.

But Kiryu grabbed him. Held him back.

It was the only thing that stopped him from storming straight into the warehouse.

Even after everything they’d heard, the pink-haired teen had pleaded with him to hold off. To wait as they did not know if they were actually talking about Akari and not someone else. 

It left Sakura both confused and irritated. But he relented in the end, unwilling to add more weight to whatever his friend was already carrying.

He had just wanted to show him that Akari was stronger than she let on. That Kiryu didn’t need to worry as much-

So how the hell had it spiraled into this? 

Now, Kiryu wanted to talk to Akari before doing anything else. And Sakura… was left alone with the mess in his head.

Which was how he found himself walking home, mismatched eyes glued to his phone screen. Before leaving, Kiryu had promised to come over tomorrow and hang out- then he could finally give him that darn plushy.

But what was he supposed to do until then? Go back to the warehouse and spy on those bastards? No. That was too risky. Even he wasn’t that stupid.

Still, the frustration was simmering under his skin- tight and restless- and it wasn’t helping him think straight.

He paused mid-step, squinting down at the time glowing on his screen.

It was only 6:41 p.m. currently. So maybe…

Exhaling through his nose, his thumb hovered for a second before swiping to his contacts.

Sakura hesitated only a second longer before tapping the call button. The phone buzzed softly against his ear. 

Once.

Twice-

Endo picked up on the second ring. 

“Sakura!” The man’s voice crackled through the speaker, full of surprise. “Somethin’ wrong? You’ve never called before.”

The bi-colored teen startled slightly at the volume, quickly pulling the phone a further away from his ear. “Holy- damn, you’re loud,” he hissed under his breath, using his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose as he slowed his pace.

Endo didn’t seem to notice.

“…No,” Sakura muttered after a moment, adjusting his grip on the phone as he kept walking. “Not really. Just wanted to ask if you’re free this evening.”

A beat of silence.

Then: “Huh?”

Sakura’s brows twitched.

‘Why the hell does he sound so stunned? Ah, whatever-’

“Something came up,” he said flatly, “and now I’m itching for a fight to blow off some steam. So-” a pause, “you up for it, or nah?”

There was a short shuffle on the other end, then Endo’s tone shifted. “Oh- oh! Training. Right, right. Of course.”  He let out a soft chuckle, keys jingling faintly in the background. “Aight, where should I pick you up?”

Glancing around, the teen scanned the street signs, quickly calculating how far he was from his home. “…Would the main street around Tonpu Market be good, like usual?”

“Yeah, works for me. Be there in ten.” A rustle, then Endo’s voice further from the speaker: “Takiishi! Let’s get back home- we’re picking Sakura up!”

The line went dead.

Let out a small huff, Sakura tucked the phone back into his pocket with the shake of his head. “…Not even a goodbye,” he grumbled, but a faint, reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he turned down the next street.

Sure enough, ten minutes later, the familiar roar of a bike engine cut through the warm air. Endo pulled up just like he said he would, one hand lazily resting on the throttle. Takiishi was, as always, lounging comfortably in the sidecar, helmet on, expression unreadable- though this time, he actually gave Sakura a brief nod and a casual wave.

Underneath his visor, Endo beamed like it was some sort of diplomatic breakthrough.

Sakura didn’t comment. Instead, he just pulled on the helmet the older man held out for him and climbed on, adjusted his grip, and said, “Let’s go.”

The engine’s hum faded into the evening as the bike wound its way through Makochi’s quieter backstreets. The ride itself was silent- comfortably so. No shouting over the wind, no idle chatter. Just the shared purpose of movement and the cool air rushing past as they sped along the city edges.

Once parked just outside the familiar garage, Endo made it clear- again- that he’d be giving Sakura a ride back home later, waving off any argument with a shrug and a look that brooked no refusal. From there, things moved quickly.

No banter. No delay.

They ducked into the garage, threw on gloves, and stretched the tension out of their limbs in silence. Then it started.

Sakura didn’t hold back- he couldn’t. Not with the way his body still felt on edge, thrumming with leftover adrenaline from earlier. Every punch, every dodge, every crack of impact against Endo or Takiishi’s blocking arms burned off the stress coiled inside him. The world narrowed to footwork, breath, and the sting of leather against skin.

They switched up often- Endo tested his reactions with speed and technique, while Takiishi met him with weight, precision, and quiet intensity. Neither let him off easy, and that was exactly what he had needed.

By the time 8 p.m. rolled around, the bi-colored teen was running on fumes. Endo’s stomach gave a loud growl that made even Takiishi huff a short laugh. Without much debate, the three of them drove back out for dinner, landing at a small Italian place tucked between a laundromat and an old DVD and mixed media store.

Endo paid as always. And Sakura, for once, didn’t feel the need to argue. It was comfortable… God, what would his friends think if they saw him now?

Eventually, once their plates were cleared and the check settled, Endo drove him home just like he’d promised. Sakura gave a short wave, murmured a goodnight, and stood watching until the tail light of the bike disappeared from view. Just a habit. The black helmet Endo had entrusted him securely under his arm. 

“With how many times we come to pick you up, you might as well keep it with ya.” The tattooed man had reasoned. 

Then, without fanfare, he trudged inside, took a quick shower, and collapsed onto his futon with barely enough energy to dry his hair.

The tension had drained out of his body completely. He didn’t dream- or if he did, they didn’t follow him back into waking. His limbs ached in that deep, satisfied way, and for once, rest came easy.

And hopefully, tomorrow will be just a little better…

-o-O-o-

Friday passed in a blur. School, patrol, the usual. Nothing dramatic. But something about the day felt lighter.

Even his friends noticed it.

Tsugeura made a pointed comment about him not scowling as much while Nirei tilted his head like he was trying to figure out what had changed. Sakura brushed them all off, of course- but he didn’t deny it either.

After patrol ended, he headed straight home.

Kiryu had promised to drop by later- said he had something to take care of first though. So now Sakura was back in his room, the folding table next to him, phone charging by the wall. He lay sprawled across the floor, rolling onto his side, eyeing the stuffed plushy on his desk.

That stupid, derpy looking thing. He still didn’t know where the hell to put it. Too obvious on the desk. Too weird if it was wrapped- not that he had anything to wrap it in. 

He huffed softly, rubbing the back of his neck as he sat up, debating if he should just hold it out awkwardly when Kiryu walked in. That would probably be the best idea, right? 

So he picked it up, having made up his mind. 

But then-

Ding!

His phone buzzed from the floorboards.

He leaned over and grabbed it, blinking as the screen lit up with a new message.

>Kiryu Mitsuki: Sorry, Sakura-chan!

I can't come over today.

A slow pause.

Sakura stared at the screen. Then set the plushy down beside him, fingers tightening around his phone before quickly tapping out a reply.

>Sakura Haruka: What do you mean you can’t?

Where are you right now?

A minute passed, then two…

No response.

The typing bubble didn’t appear.

His stomach tightened, a creeping unease coiling in his chest. The silence from the screen felt heavier than it should’ve.

Something was off.

Kiryu wasn’t the type to send a vague excuse and disappear. Not without reason.

And Sakura definitely hadn’t forgotten those thugs from yesterday-...

No… don’t tell me- Would Kiryu seriously…?

He was already up and moving.

Helmet on. Phone clenched tight. By the time he reached the street, he’d pulled up his contact list and tapped Endo’s name.

The call picked up immediately.

“Sakura?” Endo’s voice filtered through, laced with curiosity. “Didn’t think you’d be callin’ me twice in two days. What’s up?”

“I need a favor,” Sakura said, curt. “Now.”

There was a pause- then the familiar sound of keys jingling, followed by an engine revving in the background.

“Got it. Where are you?” came the reply, now slightly muffled by what Sakura guessed was the inside of a helmet.

“Entrance of Tonpu Market Street. Side alley where you first dropped me off.”

“On my way.”

The call ended with a soft click. No questions, no pushback. Just immediate motion.

It didn’t take long.

The afternoon sun was beginning to dip westward by the time the deep growl of Endo’s bike rolled up the alley. Sakura was already pacing when the vehicle came into view, the worn sidecar bouncing slightly as it turned the corner- though this time Takiishi wasn’t to be seen. 

The man slowed just enough for Sakura to hop on, turning slightly to inspect him. “You look like hell,” he stated, though his tone lacked its usual teasing bite. “Something happen?”

“Kiryu,” Sakura muttered as he flipped down the visor on his helmet. “I think he’s doing something stupid. I gotta hurry. ”

Endo didn’t need more than that. He nodded once and revved the throttle.

They made good time, weaving through Makochi’s backstreets until the broken skyline of the factory district came into view. The rows of old warehouses loomed ahead, silent and disused, their metal siding stained with rust and smoke.

Endo pulled up a block away, slowing the bike just outside the fence. The lot was empty, save for the vague echo of raised voices carrying faintly from one of the buildings nearby.

Climbing off, the bi-colored teen was tense and focused. His mismatched gaze swept the area. That sound- those voices- yeah, this was it.

“I can come with you,” The older man offered, voice low, teal eyes sharp behind the visor. “Just say the word.”

But Sakura shook his head, jaw clenched.

“No. I don’t want to drag you into this,” he said. “And I don’t want Kiryu knowing I’ve been hanging around you- no offense.”

Endo gave him a long look- assessing, maybe- but then shrugged one shoulder and leaned back on the seat.

“Alright. You’re the boss. But if it goes south in there- text me. I’ll be right back.”

Sakura simply nodded once, already turning toward the warehouse. “Thanks, Endo. I owe you.”

“Don’t worry- and don’t die,” Endo called lightly, but didn’t wait for a reply. The bike purred back to life, then peeled away, tires skimming the cracked asphalt.

Within just a few steps, the teen arrived at the rusted door, peering through the opening to assess the situation inside. 

And sure enough- he spotted them.

Ten men- looking to be around 20 years old. All gathered in a loose circle near the back of the warehouse, their shadows long against the daylight filtering through the windows. And at the center of them stood Kiryu, back straight, fists curled tight at his sides. Nose bleeding, cheek bruised. But the look in his green eyes? Defiant.

Sakura felt something cold settle in his chest at the sight of his friend’s bloodied face. The kind of fury that didn’t burn- it seethed .

No one had seen him yet, so he soundlessly slinked through the opening, approaching from the shadows.

A tall blonde guy approached Kiryu, voice drawling like a knife. “Now take out everything in your pockets and get on ya’ knees! Beg me to spare your life and I just might–”

“Hey.” 

The guy halted, visibly caught off-guard. “Ah?”

No longer seeing the need to keep himself hidden, the bi-colored teen stepped out of the shadows with his hands shoved casually in his pockets. “This… looks like fun.” 

His mismatched eyes held no heat, no tension- just that unnervingly calm blankness, the kind that made people double-check their surroundings and start questioning their odds. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to. “Why don’t ya let me in on the party, huh?”

Kiryu startled and spun around, wide green eyes snapping to him. “S-Sakura-chan?! Why’re you…”

“Who the fuck are you?” one of the goons snapped, a long-haired guy with a crooked nose and an attitude far bigger than his biceps.

Another guy, leaner with jet-black hair, narrowed his eyes. “You got guts, comin’ in here.”

Sakura didn’t even glance their way. He just shifted his weight onto one foot and fixed them with a flat stare- the kind he had seen Takiishi use when sizing up opponents he didn’t feel like wasting time on. His expression didn’t change, but it worked. The two thugs stiffened, then instinctively backed off, clearing a path.

He walked it like a blade sliding into its sheath.

Stopped right beside Kiryu.

The greasy blonde from earlier chuckled again, lips curling with distaste. “So many wallets just waltzin’ right up to us today. Dumbasses.”

That shut him up- for a second.

Beside him, Kiryu shifted, clearly struggling to keep up with what was happening. “Sakura-chan, you…”

“Save the chitchat for later.” Sakura interrupted, his eyes not leaving the now visibly irritated man across from them. “Let’s clean out this garbage first.”

The pink-haired teen hesitated, then snorted softly- somewhere between relief and reluctant amusement. “Sheesh… you sure don’t like being left out, huh?”

Sakura didn’t reply, but his lips twitched. Just a little. Enough.

They stood shoulder to shoulder now. No weapons. No backup. But both of them carried that quiet kind of confidence- the kind that said they didn’t need anything else. Because they didn’t.

Both were well aware of how much strength the other possessed- that they were capable fighters able to trust and rely on one another. A measly number of 20 guys wasn’t nearly enough to rattle them- not after having fought against the likes of Noroshi for an entire night. 

Kiryu let out a breath, steady now. “But now I get to fight alongside you, just the two of us.” He smiled, loose and eager. “It’s an honor, Sakura-chan.”

Sakura sighed under his breath, already stepping forward.

“Flatter me after we mop the floor.”

“Get ‘em!!” the leader screamed, voice breaking from rage.

Like a hive of hornets kicked full-force, the crowd of thugs surged all at once- no coordination, no strategy. Just a rush of swinging fists and stomping boots.

Kiryu moved first.

He dashed to the right, fast enough that the wind snapped through his clothes, zeroing in on two guys with panicked faces and stiff stances. He pivoted low, then used their own momentum against them- grabbing one by the arm and slamming him into the other with a twist of his hips. The crack of impact was loud, and before either could slump down, Kiryu spun again and threw them.

Hard.

Sakura caught the movement from the edge of his vision just as he planted a punch into the face of another attacker. Bone crunched under his fist, the guy’s body crumpling backward, but there was no time to savor it- because two more were suddenly flying his way.

Literally.

“…That again, huh?” he muttered with a breath of a chuckle, remembering the first time he and Kiryu had fought together- that time in front of the Muscle Power restaurant Tsugeura had brought them to. 

He didn’t hesitate.

Pivoting sharply on one foot, Sakura kicked off the concrete with practiced ease and sent a devastating roundhouse into the nearest airborne thug. The sole of his shoe cracked into the guy’s jaw with a hollow thud before continuing its arc- catching the second man mid-fall. Their heads collided mid-air, skulls clacking together with a sick, heavy knock, and they both collapsed in a heap at his feet.

Sakura exhaled through his nose, already turning toward the next wave.

Kiryu caught his eye. The pink-haired teen was already grinning- something loose, breathless, and exhilarated. Sakura returned it with a smirk of his own, nodding once.

Under the dim light, with bodies dropping around them and fists flying fast, the two teens stood focused, and completely in sync.

“Quit tossin’ the guys over to me,” Sakura called out, not bothering to hide the exasperation edging his voice- though it didn’t carry much weight.

Kiryu dusted his hands off with a flick of his wrists, ever breezy. “But Sakura-chan…” he started, glancing over as they both turned to face the two thugs standing further back- blond leader and the one with the glasses, both frozen mid-stare, disbelief clear on their faces. “That’s how we fight.”

Sakura huffed, rolling his shoulders until something in his back cracked. “Tch. Whatever.”

The calm lasted all of half a second before they moved again.

What came next wasn’t even a fight- it was cleanup.

The remaining few tried to throw punches, maybe even land a kick or two, but they were scattered. Disorganized. Rattled. And against the two of them, it was hopeless. 

Sakura weaved through bodies with smooth, lethal precision, while Kiryu darted in and out like a blade flashing between breaths- cutting down anyone who got too close. One thug was dropped with a spinning heel to the gut. Another was knocked out cold by Kiryu’s elbow straight to the temple. And in no time, the warehouse was littered with groaning, twitching bodies- until only two figures remained standing.

The leader, visibly fuming, took a step back.

“Wh– What the hell?!” he sputtered, voice shrill with disbelief. His glare snapped between the two of them, rabid and shaking. “What the hell is this–?!”

Then he screamed, scowled, and lunged, fist cocked all the way back like a winding spring. “GODDAMN YOU BRATS!!”

Sakura didn’t wait. He shot forward like a bullet.

One second the man was yelling, the next, a flying kick collided clean into his jaw with brutal force. The sound it made was a dull, deep crack- followed by the slap of his body skidding across the concrete and slamming into a pile of old chairs and rusted shelving.

He didn’t get back up.

Glasses flinched in place, frozen in shock where he stood- just a few feet from where his friend had landed in a twitching heap.

Sakura landed lightly on the balls of his feet, straightening without a word.

‘Seems like the training’s really paying off…’

Kiryu stepped past him, calm and steady. “Sakura-chan,” he hummed, green eyes still locked on their last target. “Leave this one to me, all right?”

The bi-colored boy didn’t argue. He just turned slightly, shoulders loose, expression neutral. “Knock yourself out.”

The guy with glasses was shaking. His frames slipped down his nose, and his eyes- magnified behind the smudged lenses- were wide with panic.

“W-Wait!!” he sputtered, scrambling back like a kicked dog. “I-I was just doing what they told me! I’m- I'm actually a good guy!!!”

Lying straight through his teeth to save his own skin. 

He stumbled, tripped over his own feet, and landed hard on the concrete. “Really!! I swear!”

Kiryu didn’t say a word as he closed the distance. Just kept walking, steady as ever, like the other boy’s panicked babbling was little more than background noise. When he stopped in front of him, the guy threw his arms over his face, bracing for a punch- 

Only for Kiryu to reach down, grab his shoulders, and yank him upright with a cheerful: “Up you go!”

Sakura blinked. 'Hah?'

“Earlier,” Kiryu said, dusting off the guy’s shoulders with a kind of exaggerated kindness, “I wanted you to be friends with my sister…”

The bespectacled teen glanced up, blinking in surprise.

“…But I take it back!” Kiryu continued brightly.

Sakura’s eyes narrowed. What the hell happened earlier…?

Still standing off to the side with arms crossed, he watched Kiryu continue patting down the now upright thug like he was just a wrinkled blazer instead of a near-criminal. Kiryu even reached up to straighten the guy’s crooked glasses.

“Don’t involve yourself with my sister anymore,” he said, smiling all the while. “You can’t even get near her, okay? Promise?”

The guy nodded so fast it looked painful.

Then Kiryu’s expression shifted.

In a blink, he grabbed the front of the guy’s collar and yanked him down to eye level. His voice dropped, and though Sakura couldn’t see the look on his face from behind, the sudden tension in the air said enough.

“But if you break this promise…” Kiryu’s tone turned razor-sharp, soft and cold, “Then I’m sure you understand what’ll be coming for you… right?”

The silence that followed felt suffocating.

The guy jerked back like he’d been burned, then dropped hard to his knees with a pathetic thud .

“Y-… Yesh… shir…” he slurred, nearly swallowing his own tongue in fear.

Sakura, watching the whole thing, suppressed the proud smirk tugging at his mouth.

‘Hah. Not bad at all.’

He gave a satisfied nod and turned on his heel. “Let’s go.”

Kiryu didn’t argue. He stepped away, hands slipping back into his pockets like nothing had happened at all. Together, they walked out of the warehouse, leaving the pile of groaning bodies behind.

Sakura’s phone buzzed in his pocket- ah right, should probably update him . He pulled it out, thumbs moving quick.

>E.Y.: Any updates?

>Sakura: All good. Didn’t need the cavalry after all.

He hit send.

“Who’re you texting?” Kiryu asked, glancing over as they turned a corner, the old warehouse shrinking behind them.

“...No one.” Sakura pocketed the phone and started walking a little faster.

Kiryu squinted. “...That’s suspicious.”

Not answering, Sakura instead tilted his head up for a second, watching the color change as they walked. The sky above them was softening- smears of pink and amber bleeding into the clouds like watercolor. It wasn’t quite sunset yet, but the gold in the light was unmistakable.

Kiryu let the silence stretch for a moment longer before switching the subject.

“Sakura-chan,” he mumbled, voice quiet but sincere, “you keep going out of your way to help me. Thank you.”

Sakura instantly flushed, scowling as he looked away. “Whatever. You could’ve wiped the floor with ’em on your own. I shouldn’t have bothered.”

“But that’s not all,” Kiryu said, shaking his head.

He slowed his steps a little as he spoke, his hands held loosely at his sides.

“I talked to Akari yesterday. She’s actually been working for four years now. She even has a full-time job set up for later and she’s leaving the house after she graduates.” Kiryu exhaled, eyes half-lidded. “My sister really is a strong, independent person.”

Sakura didn’t interrupt. He just listened, hands tucked into the pockets of his pants. Letting Kiryu’s voice fill the space between them.

Then Kiryu glanced over.

“But… Sakura-chan, how did you figure all this out?”

Sakura stiffened slightly. “Huh?”

Kiryu blinked at him, still curious. “What you told me yesterday when you showed my Akari’s workplace… that’s what you were hinting at, right?”

There was a beat of hesitation before the teen looked away. The sky was beautiful, but it didn’t distract the nervous edge suddenly tightening in his chest.

“B… Because of her face?” he muttered finally.

Kiryu tilted his head. “Her face?”

‘Right, how am I supposed to explain this…?’

Scratching the side of his head, Sakura frowned, gaze distant now. His voice dropped lower, more unsure. “Well… after what happened with your dad, she looked up… and glared straight ahead with these fierce-looking eyes…”

The image flashed through his mind unbidden- Akari’s determined expression on that porch, strong in a way he could never be.

But then, just as quickly, it bled into another image: a younger version of himself, standing in front of a mirror, eyes averted. A man’s voice in the background, yelling. His reflection blurred. Hollow. Afraid.

“I could never… make the same face…”

Kiryu froze beside him.

“…Huh? What do you mean?”

Shit.

Sakura flinched, inwardly kicking himself. Too much. That was too much-

Kiryu reached out, concern tightening his features. “Sakura-chan, what does that mea–”

“Sheesh.” Sakura cut in fast, shaking his head, tone rough, almost defensive. “Your sister’s… really frickin’ amazing.”

And he meant it.

Kiryu blinked. The worry on his face softened, replaced by something gentler. Quieter. Then, slowly, a smile bloomed. Bright and warm, green eyes turning distant as they looked ahead.

They kept walking. For a while, neither of them said anything. And Sakura, in that silence, let himself breathe again.

But after a few more minutes, something felt… off.

Kiryu wasn’t matching his pace anymore.

Sakura glanced sideways- and sure enough, the pink-haired teen was lagging a step behind, eyes hazy, that dreamy look overtaking his features again.

“…Oi.” No response. 

“Kiryu?” Nothing.

“Hey. Hey. Hey! ”

His classmate startled with a soft gasp, blinking back to focus like he’d just surfaced from underwater. “Huh?”

Sakura narrowed his eyes. “Don’t just suddenly go quiet. Say somethin’- that fight earlier was nothing- Don’t tell me you’re tired already?”

Kiryu blinked once. Twice. Then he lit up.

“Yeah! Of course I’m beat after all that exercise!” he declared- before suddenly lunging at him with wide-open arms. “Sakura-chan, carry meee!”

“ Wuh–?! ” Sakura flinched at the sudden switch-up, jolting a step back. “Oi, what the hell-?!”

But Kiryu clung anyway, arms around his shoulders like a stubborn koala. And surprisingly… Sakura didn’t shove him off. With an exasperated sigh and burning ears, he crouched down enough to let the pink-haired idiot climb on fully.

Kiryu giggled as Sakura hoisted him up with ease, securing the boy’s legs around his waist. “Haaah~ This is nice.”

“Tch. It’s so damn hot…” Sakura muttered, but his arms didn’t loosen. If anything, they adjusted to keep Kiryu steady.

And like that, he carried him- piggyback style- all the way back to Kiryu’s house. The teen hummed quietly, chin resting on Sakura’s shoulder, the tension of the day slowly bleeding out of both their bodies.

When they finally reached the gate, Kiryu slipped off with a small sigh, brushing back his bangs. “You’re really something else, Sakura-chan~” he said, beaming. “Thank you for carrying me!”

“Mhm. Sure…”

“Though you didn’t have to carry me all the way back- how’s your back doing? Still in one piece?”

“Yeah, it’s nothin’,” Sakura replied dismissively, rolling his shoulders until his spine gave a satisfying pop. “You’re really light.”

“Aww, you’re making me blush! Such a gentleman!” Kiryu cheered, teasingly bumping a shoulder into Sakura’s.

“S-shaddup!” Sakura stammered, turning away to scratch the back of his rapidly flushing neck. “Just- ugh.”

Kiryu laughed, and Sakura groaned through his embarrassment. Damn this heat was really starting to mess with his head-

“…Next time,” the bi-colored said after a moment, voice lower now, “just tell me if you need anythin’, alright? Or if you or Akari get in trouble…”

Kiryu’s eyes softened. “Of course, Sakura-chan. You’re so kind~ Thank you.”

“Hmph.” Nodding at his friend, Sakura turned to go. “See you at school, I guess.”

“Mhm! Thank you, Sakura-chan. Really.” 

“…Whatever.”

With a half-hearted wave, Sakura walked off, his footsteps steady as he turned down a narrow alley. The quiet crept in again- but it didn’t feel suffocating this time. He felt lighter- no longer as restless.

Then he froze mid-step.

“Shit.”

His hand slapped against his pocket.

‘ I forgot… ’ 

The realization hit like a brick. That goofy-looking plush- purple, round, and grinning with half-lidded eyes- was still sitting on his desk at home, right where he’d left it.

‘Ah, damn it all! I forgot to give it to him again…’

Sakura groaned under his breath and dragged a hand through his messy black and white hair, pushing it back in frustration. “...Guess I’ll have to give it to him next time,” he muttered, though he didn’t sound convinced.

Now that he was thinking about it- really thinking about it- he didn’t want to hand it over at school. Not in front of everyone. That’d be asking for relentless teasing- And before long, he’d never hear the end of it. (He could already imagine Suo’s sly grin- gah!)

But going all the way back to Kiryu’s house just to drop it off?

…Also a pain.

Sakura stood in the alley, scowling at the pavement like it owed him money. His shoulders slumped with a quiet sigh as he tugged out his phone and scrolled to his contacts.

Endo’s name blinked up at him.

He hovered.

This was stupid. It was just a plush. A dumb little gift. He could wait. He should wait.

But that face Kiryu made earlier- that honest, sincere smile… Sakura bit the inside of his cheek.

“Tch.” Whatever. He might as well do it now.

>Sakura: You busy?

The typing bubbles appeared almost instantly.

>E.Y.: For you? I’m always free~ Glad your little mission went well, btw. 

Fondly rolling his eyes, he shook his head. “…Freakin’ weirdo…”

>Sakura: Can you pick me up? I gotta give something to a friend and I’d need a ride.  

>E.Y.: Omw, the usual spot?

>Sakura: Yeah, thanks.

Slipping the phone back into his pocket, Sakura sighed and turned towards Tonpu market street. The gold-stained sky stretched above him, warm and wide, the breeze tugging faintly at his sleeves.

His steps were slow at first, but steady.

He didn’t know why he cared this much about delivering some stupid plush, or why Endo always said yes so easily, or why Kiryu’s smile had stuck so firmly in his chest.

But somehow… his shoulders didn’t feel as heavy anymore.

The restlessness had dulled. Not gone, but quieter.

And for now, that was enough.

Chapter Text

The sky bled orange and gold as the sun continued its lazy descent, dipping the rooftops of Bofurin in warm, melting light. 

Footsteps echoed against concrete as Sakura moved at a clipped pace through the quieter backstreets, his hair flaring slightly behind him. He didn’t bother wasting time with stops- just sprinted up the narrow stairwell to his apartment, slammed the door shut behind him, and beelined for his bedroom.

Helmet? Check. Goofy purple plushy with oversized eyes and a lopsided grin? Still sitting right where he left it, staring up at him like it had been waiting all day.

He grabbed both, slipped the helmet under one arm, and spared the plush a flat look. “You better appreciate this, Kiryu,” he muttered, stuffing it carefully into a drawstring bag he had been gifted before double-knotting it.

By the time he circled back to Tonpu Market Street, the sun had begun casting long shadows down the alleyways, the colors of day beginning to lose their edge. 

He spotted the familiar shape of a bike parked at the curb near the edge of the market, its matte black frame gleaming faintly. The sidecar was missing this time- streamlined and lean. No Takiishi in sight.

Endo Yamato leaned casually against it, helmet already on, visor flipped up to reveal those stormy teal eyes. His gaze found Sakura immediately, and the grin that pulled at his lips was lazy, wolfish.

Sakura lifted a hand in casual greeting. “Yo.”

“Yo,” Endo echoed, pushing off the bike with his elbow. His eyes flicked to the lumpy bag slung over Sakura’s shoulder, the top half of the plush still sticking out. “What kinda creature are you tryna smuggle across the border?”

Sakura blinked, then huffed. “It’s a gift . And I’m not trying to smuggle it anywhere, dumbass.”

“Mhm.” Endo chuckled, straightening up and making a show of eyeing the bag. “Looks like the lovechild of a grape and a minion.”

“The hell is a minion? Whatever- Can we just go already?” 

For a brief second, the man looked at him weird, his head tilting just a bit, before he seemingly caught himself and instead crossed his arms, his tattoos on full display, as he hadn’t covered himself up this time.

“You know,” Endo sighed dramatically, “I used to be feared, once. King of backstreets, breaker of bones... and now I’m just your flashy taxi service.”

That earned him a snort. Sakura muttered something about “ better than being unemployed ” and jabbed him lightly in the ribs as he passed. 

“Excuse you! I’m a well-renowned freelancer!” Endo jabbed back. It devolved briefly into a half-hearted shoving match before they both eventually settled.

Helmet on, engine growling to life, and a few brief directions later, they were off.

It didn’t take long to reach the house- or mansion. Sakura recognized the familiar wall before the tall wooden gate came into view, the stately building just behind it cast in soft twilight.

They rolled to a stop. Sakura climbed off and stretched his shoulders before pulling the plush’s bag from around his torso while Endo whistled at the building. He fished out his phone, thumb hovering over Kiryu’s name.

But before he could even hit send on the short message he had typed out, the gate creaked open.

Out stepped pink hair and wide green eyes, framed by a calm sort of confusion.

Kiryu.

“Sakura-chan…?”

The other teen blinked at him, at the plush in his hands- and then at the man still sitting on the idling bike.

Endo, visor still up, just tilted his head and offered a lazy wave.

Kiryu’s brows furrowed, recognition sparking faintly behind his eyes. “...Wait. Isn’t that-?”

Sakura stood frozen on the spot. 

Shit.

There it was- that flicker of tension tightening Kiryu’s shoulders, his steps stuttering slightly as he glanced between them. 

Endo, for his part, didn’t seem to notice the shift in air. Or maybe he did, and just didn’t care. He simply rested his forearms against the handles of the bike, face unreadable in that infuriating way of his.

“Why are you…” Kiryu started, voice quiet but edged. “He was with Noroshi, right? That’s the guy from Nirei’s notes…”

Sakura didn’t answer. His hands curled around the bag holding the plushy in his arms, grip tightening enough to wrinkle the fabric.

He hated this. Hated the way Kiryu’s green eyes- usually soft, open- suddenly felt like they were seeing through him. Like they were waiting for him to explain something unforgivable.

The silence stretched, thin and suffocating.

Kiryu looked back to Endo, who had gone still, watching with a vague sort of interest now. Not intervening. Just letting it hang. Waiting. 

But Sakura remained speechless, throat feeling too tight to make a noise or even try to defend himself.

What was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to explain himself? He didn’t know–

As if sensing his distress, Endo finally piped up. “I’m no longer with Noroshi,” he said, casually, like it was the weather. “I dumped those assholes shortly after the whole debacle was over. So you could say I’m a… neutral party now, I guess?”

Twisting to glance at the older man, Sakura blinked. ‘ Endo has left Noroshi? Wasn’t he technically their leader? …Did that mean they were now disbanded?’

Kiryu’s brows drew together. Not defensive- just cautious. His gaze flicked between them again, scanning Sakura’s face like it held answers.

The teen stiffened, jaw tight. He didn’t want Endo to speak for him, but he appreciated the assist. 

Still, the air hadn’t loosened. Not yet.

“I know how it looks,” Sakura muttered quietly, fingers clenching around the stupid plush within the bag. “But like he said, he’s not with them anymore. He’s not trying to mess with me. I just…” He swallowed, mismatched eyes darting to the ground. “He’s helping me.”

Kiryu’s expression didn’t change right away. Just those lashes lowering slightly, the familiar green of his eyes shadowed with thought.

Then-  “All this time… you’ve been training with him?”

Suppressing a flinch, the teen’s fingers dug deeper. Of course he knew.

 “...Yeah.”

Another beat.

“You could’ve told me.”

Sakura looked away, unable to cull the sickening guilt rising in his gut. “I didn’t want to risk it. You… you might’ve thought I was just- stupid. Or reckless. Or–”

“I trust you.”

The words landed so softly that Sakura almost missed them.

Stepping forward, the pink-haired teen carefully approached Sakura like one might a feral cat. It was hard to stay still and not cringe away, but he held himself strong.

Two hands met his shoulders and held him there so he was forced to see Kiryu’s smile- gentle and real. “It’s alright, Sakura-chan. If you say he’s not an enemy anymore… then I’ll trust you.”

“You… won’t tell the others?” The question came smaller than he meant it to. Tighter. His throat still burning and feeling uncomfortably raw. 

“If he’s not hurting you, and you don’t want me to tell them, then I won’t,” Kiryu promised. “We’re friends, Sakura-chan.”

And as he said it, his hands, already resting lightly on Sakura’s shoulders, pulled the teen forward without hesitation- into a warm, grounding hug.

Sakura stiffened at first, every muscle locked like instinct demanded he flee- but then… something in his chest let go. Not entirely. But enough. Enough to let himself lean in, just slightly. Enough to let the plush squish awkwardly between them.

Face hidden in the crook of Kiryu’s neck, muffled by surprise and heat, he mumbled out a wobbly “...Thank you.”

A faint stinging behind his eyes, throat closing up, body trembling. 'Thank you for being my friend.'

“Hm~” Endo hummed from the side, reminding them that he was still there- watching everything while resting his chin in one gloved hand. “What a good friend you’ve got there.”

“Shut it,” Sakura snapped automatically, shooting him a half-hearted glare.

“‘Kayyy.”

Kiryu giggled softly at that before stepping away and reaching out to accept the plush. “Oh! Is this for me?”

A nod. Awkward. Faintly embarrassed.

The pink-haired boy grinned, freeing the derpy plush from the bag and holding it up. “You went back to the mall to get it? Awee, Sakura-chan~ Thank you so much! I’ll treasure it!”

The corner of Sakura’s mouth twitched. He turned away from his friend's grinning face. “Yeah, whatever. I’ll see you at school.”

Kiryu waved, all warmth and cheer, before turning slightly- just enough to meet Endo’s gaze from where the man still sat on his idling bike, visor flipped up, teal eyes lazily watching.

“Take care of him, alright?” Kiryu said, sweet but sharp. “If anything bad happens to Sakura-chan, I will tell the others at Furin. And I will make your life a living hell.”

“What-?!” Sakura whirled on him, ears burning red. “Oi! I can take care of myself!!”

But Endo only chuckled, clearly unbothered. “Scary~,” he drawled, grinning wide. “But fair. Got it. I’ll be good! Pinky promise~”

Satisfied, Kiryu gave one last smile to them both before stepping back through the gate. “Good night!” he chimed, then closed it behind him with a quiet click.

Sakura stared after him, still faintly pink.

“…That idiot…” he muttered under his breath.

Endo was already laughing as he scooted forward on the seat. “Get on, Sakura- chan~ Your knight awaits.”

“Ugh, damn jackass” came the groan- but he swung his leg over the bike anyway before re-fastening the straps of his helmet.

Endo merely chuckled at the others' annoyance as he rolled the bike around. “So- That could’ve gone worse.”

Sakura grunted and swung a leg over the seat. “Just drive.”

“Mm~ your wish is my command.”

The engine purred to life beneath them, and they pulled away from the quiet residential street just as the sun finally dipped below the rooftops- painting the road ahead in deepening crimson.

They didn’t talk much as the wind peeled by, soft and cool against exposed skin. The silence was companionable, at least for now. It was Sakura who broke it first when Endo suddenly veered left at the intersection.

“…That’s not the way.”

“Pit stop,” Endo called over the wind. “You’re hungry, right?”

Sakura blinked. “No?”

“Too bad. You’re growing. And I’m craving dumplings.” He threw a grin over his shoulder. “My treat~”

“Oi-!”

Too late. They were already cruising into the parking lot of a small local shop, still open and glowing warm against the encroaching night. The red awning of Shin’s Dumpling House flapped lazily in the evening breeze.

Sakura groaned but didn’t argue further. Mostly because his stomach had started growling at the exact same moment they stepped off the bike.

Endo flicked the kickstand down and stretched, tossing a glance toward the warm light spilling from the store’s windows. “You wanna come back to mine to eat later?”

Sakura frowned. “No. I’ll eat at home. Need a shower anyway.”

“Ah well, your loss.”

They ordered quickly and packed it all to go- Endo’s treat, as always, because god forbid Sakura wanted to pay for himself. Greasy, comforting dumplings tucked away in paper bags, fragrant enough to make Sakura’s stomach gnaw at itself again.

As they climbed back onto the bike, he grumbled, “You’re really dragging this out.”

“You say that, but you don’t complain about the food.”

“…Cuz food is always good.”

Another laugh, deeper this time. It lingered under the hum of the engine as they turned and sped down familiar roads.

By the time they reached his neighborhood, the streetlights had all blinked on. The roads were emptier now- just the faint glow of convenience store signs and the occasional buzz of a passing scooter. Quieter this late. Less people out and about.

This time, Endo had been oddly insistent on driving him all the way home, not just to the market street. Sakura had argued, of course- said it wasn’t necessary, that he could walk the rest like usual. But Endo had only waved it off with that signature smirk and a “Humor me,” like that settled it.

Sakura hadn’t liked it, but he’d relented. Gave clipped directions as they wove through narrower streets until the buildings got older, the shadows deeper, the neon buzz dimmer.

They rolled to a stop outside his complex, and he tugged his helmet off, quickly dismounting with a muttered, “Alright. Thanks for-”

“You live there?”

The question stopped him short.

Sakura tensed, head snapping around, still holding the helmet under one arm. “Yeah? What about it? You got a problem or something?”

His voice came out sharper than intended, half-snarled before he could reel it in.

Endo’s teal eyes met his, steady and unreadable beneath the helmet’s raised visor. Then, calm as ever: 

“With you? No.”

Sakura blinked, confused for a second by the sincerity in that answer. But before he could say anything else, Endo switched the engine off and climbed off the bike.

“What’re you-”

“I’ll carry it,” Endo said, grabbing the bag of food before Sakura could protest.

“I can carry it myself-”

“I insist.”

Scowling at the man’s weird attitude, Sakura turned on his heel and started toward the stairwell, boots echoing dully against cracked tile. The old metal railing groaned under his hand as he climbed. The lights overhead flickered dimly, casting everything in a sickly yellow haze.

Second floor. Apartment 201. The only one still occupied in the whole damn building.

He glanced back once. Endo was still behind him, footsteps steady, expression unreadable again.

Sakura rolled his mismatched eyes and pulled out his keys. The new lock easily clicked open, only for the door to let out a high-pitched whine when he entered, his body cringing in response.

The smell hit immediately. Damp. Old. Wood rot and mildew soaked into the very bones of the place.

Behind him, the floor gave a faint groan as the taller man stepped into the apartment, the takeout bag rustling faintly in his grip. The door clicked shut with a wheeze of warped wood and rusted hinges.

Sakura winced at the familiar staleness of it all but said nothing, shoulders tight and angled away from his guest.

Endo remained by the doorframe, oddly quiet. He still hadn't taken off the helmet.

Through the visor’s tinted glass, Sakura couldn’t read his expression- but his posture told him enough. His hands clenched the takeout like it might break apart. Muscles taut, jawline barely visible behind the helmet’s edge.

Frustrated?

Upset?

Uneasy tension filled the silence.

The rustle of plastic echoed as Endo adjusted his grip, but the sound came sharper now. More forceful. Angry, even.

…Why?

No stove. No pots. Sink’s rusted and dripping. Walls are decaying. Floorboards squeak with every damn step. Barely any furniture. Busted light. 

He hated it.

Endo’s grip on the takeout bags tightened until the plastic stretched and whined. His gaze flicked across the dim, crumbling room again, heart sinking the longer he stood there.

This wasn’t just some shitty temporary setup. This was lived-in.

He drew in a slow breath and tried to keep his voice even. Careful. “Sakura…”

The bi-colored boy glanced back, halfway through taking off his shoes, pausing at the tone.

“I’m not one to judge, but…” Don’t scare him off now. 

“But what?” Sakura shot back quickly, shoulders rising. A defensive position. “It’s none of your business- I live just fine–”

“You shouldn’t have to live like this.”

A pause. 

“Hah…?”

That sharp breath was the only warning before Endo pulled up his helmet, the visor clicking back into place with a snap.

Piercing teal eyes met mismatched ones.

Sakura froze, blood going cold. Something in that look made his hackles rise. Not in fear- but something close. Something raw and unsettled and hard to name.

The younger man swallowed. Didn’t drop eye contact.

Didn’t back down.

He could see the tight coil just under the surface- pride, fury, fear all wound up so tightly it must’ve hurt to breathe.

And Endo knew he had to tread carefully now. 

One wrong move, one slip of the tongue, and everything could break.

So he exhaled. Let the quiet stretch for a beat before he spoke.

“I don’t know about your situation,” he started lowly, “don’t know much about your history or why you live like this- don’t even know what the hell is up with that weird group we stumbled across. And I normally don’t care- I’ve seen plenty of people strugglin’... But,”

He didn’t need to finish. He could already see Sakura bristle. The teen’s shoulders lifted in defense, chin tilted just enough to show the teeth behind the tension. Mismatched eyes narrowed, sharp and warning.

Endo didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away.

“But seeing you live in such a sorry state pisses me the hell off.”

There was the spark. Distress mixing into anger- defensively lashing out. 

“If it bothers you so much,” Sakura snapped, voice cracking at the edges, “then fuck off–!”

“You deserve better, Sakura.” He did. He really did- Sakura deserved the world and much more. Even though they’d only really known each other for roughly two months now, Endo didn’t want to let him go. And he had the feeling that Takiishi would agree. 

The words landed like a brick through glass.

And Endo knew he had hit his mark. 

Sakura stood at the rusting edge of his kitchen sink- if it could even be called that- mismatched eyes wide. The cracked counter beneath his fingers suddenly felt a thousand miles away.

‘What?’

His mouth had opened to spit more fire, more barbs, but the curse caught somewhere in his throat and stayed there, choking on disbelief.

He didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

Didn’t know what the hell to do with that.

The tension in his body bled out all at once, like air rushing from a punctured tire. Legs barely held him upright.

What the hell was that even supposed to mean? He deserved better?

It had been like this ever since he moved to Makochi- and even before that. Alone, and just fine. It was fine. 

Before his friends and classmates had come along, no one ever said otherwise. No one ever looked at him like that while standing in this space. No one had ever called it anything but normal- or avoided the topic altogether.

And yet here was Endo, not just seeing it, but acknowledging it. Condemning it.

‘Why…?’

Why did it feel like something inside him had just… cracked? This doesn’t make sense–

“We’ve got enough space in our apartment,” Endo continued, calm but firm. “And it’s not too far away from Furin if you wanna walk there. You can live with us- and not in this rotting, molding shoebox that’s three seconds away from collapsing in on itself. Hell, you probably don’t even have warm water here, do you?”

Sakura twitched, struggling to grasp words. His brain lagged several beats behind.

“You- you’re serious…?” he croaked, voice caught somewhere between disbelief and insult. “You want me to come live with you…?”

That look- so confident and sincere as teal eyes stared him down- nearly had the bi-colored teen collapse against the counter. “Yes, Sakura.”

“You- I don’t-... This is just fine, isn’t it?” He gestured vaguely to the room, to the warped floorboards and stained walls like he could defend them. “I got my necessities, running water, and a working AC. This works for me- this is fine for me- It’s… It’s enough…”

But even to his own ears, the words sounded hollow. His lungs burned all over again. He was tired. So, so tired. 

“You don’t have to move if you really don’t want to,” Endo replied, tone still maddeningly soft as he stepped closer. “But please consider my offer. Takiishi wouldn’t mind either as long as you don’t annoy him, and I’d be more than happy to have you around, Sakura.”

“You-!” he spluttered, entire body heating with confused outrage. “Damn it- You can’t just…! What is wrong with you, damn creepy snake bastard…”

A low chuckle.

“I told ya,” Endo said, leaning slightly into his space with that same infuriating ease. “I fell for you. And I want you to be happy and live comfortably.”

A sharp, full-body flinch.

Blood roared in his ears like static as his hands flew up, slapping over his face and ears as if to physically block the words from reaching him.

“God damn it, fine!” he groaned, voice strangled and humiliated. “I’ll consider it! Now lay off!”

“That’s all I wanted to hear.” The satisfied smile in the man’s voice was unmistakable. “C’mon, our food’s gettin’ cold. Better eat it now, hm?”

“Tch, you seriously have issues…”

“Tell me about it~” Endo simply teased, leaning into his personal space. 

Too exhausted to retaliate any further, Sakura just waved him off with a grumble, watching as the older man finally stepped forward and set the takeout down beside the rust-speckled sink.

He turned toward the sagging cupboard, reached up, and pulled out the two plates he kept stashed there- clean, but chipped and slightly mismatched. His hand lingered on the handle a beat longer than necessary. The gesture was small, but the weight of it lingered in his chest.

Maybe… Just maybe.

He shoved the thought aside and turned towards his bedroom to set the plates down onto his foldable desk.

The quiet shuffle of movement followed as Endo followed him and unpacked the containers. The smell of warm dumplings and savory noodles began to chase out the mildew, at least a little. 

The moment was quiet- strangely domestic in a way that made Sakura’s skin crawl and settle all at once.

He didn’t speak, didn’t thank him. But he didn’t push him away either.

This… was comfortable. 

-o-O-o-

Farther out- on the edge of Makochi, buried deep within the rusted ribs of the factory district long since swallowed by time and grime- another scene was unfolding.

Under the flickering buzz of a faulty industrial lamp, shadows shifted. Figures gathered.

At the center of the group, two bruised and beaten young men knelt in the dirt-streaked concrete, their heads bowed low under the weight of both pain and shame. The unmistakable logo stitched across the backs of several jackets around them shimmered faintly under the light- twisted, familiar, wrong.

A steel-toed boot slammed into the ground inches from one of their faces.

“Fuckin’ weaklings…” came the slow, disdainful voice of the man towering above them. His tone was syrup-thick with mockery. “You let such a good product slip through your fingers… How will you pay your debts off now, I wonder?”

Mocking laughter rippled through the gathered crowd like venom in the bloodstream. One of the kneeling men coughed, spat blood, and tried to defend himself- voice shaking.

“S-Sir! It wasn’t our intention! The girl’s pink-haired younger brother showed up and-!”

The second man, face twisted with frustration, slammed his fist against the ground. “It wasn’t just the girl’s stupid brother- there was someone else…! Some freak with dual-colored eyes and hair came outta nowhere and messed everything up!”

A pause. A ripple of attention. The group quieted.

Then came a sound- slow, heavy footsteps approaching.

The crowd parted as a tall figure emerged from the shadows. Unreadable. Watchful. Cold.

And just like that, the atmosphere seemed to drop in temperature.

“A dual-colored freak, you say…?” the figure murmured lowly, crouching before the speaker with eerie calm.

Their gloved fingers reached out, just lightly tapping the bruised man’s chin upward. 

“Please…

elaborate.”

Chapter Text

The noodles were decent, though the dumplings had gone lukewarm by the time they finished them.

Still, Sakura hadn't minded much. It wasn’t about the food. Not really.

Sitting at the chipped table with Endo, chopsticks scraping the last bits from their plastic boxes, the silence had settled between them- not awkward, not tense. Just quiet. Easy. It made him uncomfortable in a way he couldn’t name.

Yet he hadn't given Endo a clear answer. Only the flushed threat to “lay off” - And true to his word, Endo hadn’t pushed the topic again.

But even after all that, Sakura still felt… off. 

Maybe it was the smell of mold creeping back into his sheets. Maybe it was the way his front door didn’t quite shut right, or the broken bathroom light flickering again. Or maybe it was the memory of Endo’s voice, low and certain, telling him “you deserve better.”

He’d barely slept since.

And yet- when his friends had shown up the day after and Sakura had to cancel his training for that Saturday, all of that unease had briefly melted.

They way they had grinned at him, close-eyed and proud- He could still remember how hard he fought to keep his body from trembling and his face from exploding with heat as they relentlessly teased him for not only fixing the situation with Akari, but also going out of his way to buy Kiryu the plushy. 

It seems while Kiryu had promised to not tell them anything about Endo, he didn’t say he’d keep quiet about the plush- ‘Yapposhin’, as he had named it. 

God, Sakura wanted to bury himself in the floor.

He glared at Kiryu from across the room, who responded with the faintest, smug, closed-eye smile, hugging the plush close to his chest like some sort of war trophy.

Traitor.

Seconds later, his mind drifted again- unfortunately.

Back to Endo’s offer. Back to the idea of leaving behind this fragile illusion of independence he’d pieced together over the years.

He didn’t notice the conversation had shifted until Kiryu called out to him, informing him that he’d leave the gifts he had gotten from his friends at Sakura’s for now. 

Bristling, Sakura snapped at the pink-haired teen. “Why?! Take all that junk with you!!” But Kiryu paid his protests no mind. 

Feeling his eye twitch, the bi-colored boy was just about to hiss at the other, when suddenly Nirei fell into his words and shifted his attention. “But wow! Sakura-san, you’ve really grown into a fine captain!” 

“At this rate, you’ll be top of Furin in no time!”

The words yanked him out of his mock frustration. Violently.

Sakura blinked. 

“...Huh?”

Four voices echoed back in perfect chorus.

“...Huh?”

Nirei blinked innocently before furrowing his brows in confusion. “Wait, Sakura-san. Didn’t you come to Furin so you could be the top dog here?”

“Uh-? Mm, yeah, but…” His voice trailed off. The words fell flat on his tongue. 

Right, he… had said that- it had been his goal- to beat everyone and rise to the top, show them all just how strong he was and prove himself worthy… but that had been when he first moved here. 

Ever since then he had met so many people and learned so much-... It just didn’t feel right anymore. And now that his classmates- his friends!- were sitting around him, staring at him expectantly, Sakura didn’t know what to do.

He glanced down at his lap, fingers curling tightly into the fabric of his pants.

Umemiya. Takiishi.

The sheer power they carried. The weight of their presence. He wasn’t even close. And he didn’t have Umemiya’s calm- his strength. His warmth.

Which meant he still had to get stronger. He had to.

Because the way he was now, he could never rise to take that top spot, nor the responsibility connected to it. And with that damn group still lurking around–!

“I’m sure you’ve done a lot of thinking,” came a calm voice.

Torn out of his thoughts and blinking back to the present, Sakura looked up- Kiryu was sitting across from him, plushy on his lap.

Sakura said nothing. But Kiryu didn’t need him to.

“…And if you tell us you really do want to become the top of Furin,” Kiryu said, smiling closed-eyed again- He lifted the plush above his head like a blessing.

“Then I’m gonna carry you all the way up!”

Something in Sakura stilled.

He stared at Kiryu, wide-eyed, frozen mid-breath- He didn’t even realize he’d stopped breathing.

Why did he sound so sure of that? Sakura didn’t understand it. 

And then Nirei, Suo and Tsugeura joined in, voicing their support for him as well, promising to accompany him to the top and to stand by his side.

The chaos exploded around him like static- loud and warm and stupid and perfect- and Sakura just sat there, blinking fast, trying not to let his face do anything weird .

Yet there was this horrible, hot pressure building behind his eyes, and it took everything he had not to flinch from it.

He dipped his head down slightly- breathing slow, shallow. Trying to wrap his head around it- Their kindness. Their support. Their easy acceptance of him.

"I… didn’t take leadership… I was given that status."

He hears Umemiya’s voice in the back of his mind- steady, certain.

The memory flashes bright and fast behind his eyes- Umemiya, sitting tall on top of the rooftop, offering him not judgment, but trust.

And then it’s gone- replaced by the sight right in front of him.

His friends.

Smiling. Laughing.

Staying.

He doesn’t want to lose them. He wants to stay with them forever and show how grateful he is- for all of it. For everything they’ve done. For not leaving.

His lips part, just barely, mind scrambling to find the right words. Something to say. Something that matters.

But before anything can come out–

Tsugeura jumps up, flexing his biceps dramatically. “Now I’m getting excited!! I’m not losing either!!”

Everyone jolted at the sudden volume, but the orange-haired teen barreled on, completely unfazed. “I can’t just sit here doing nothing! Guys, we needa train ! Let’s book it!”

Sakura deadpanned, mirroring the collective flat-toned: “Huh?”

Tsugeura didn’t notice- or didn’t care- already halfway to the divider of the room.

Kiryu leaned back into the wall while clutching Yapposhin, not even lifting his head. “...No thanks. It’s way too hot.”

Suo didn’t miss a beat, voice dry and exasperated. “It’s not like we’re carrying you to the top.”

“Y-You’re being so mean! ” Tsugeura cried, visibly wounded.

Nirei laughed softly, hand covering his mouth while Sakura could only roll his eyes fondly.

Yes-  Moving to Furin had been the best decision of his life.

He wouldn’t give it up for anything.

…The thought made his stomach churn. He wouldn’t let that group intimidate him. Wouldn’t let them shove him back into the dark or force him onto the run again.

Makochi was his home. And Furin- these idiots- were his support.

And if taking Endo up on his offer would provide further safety- 'You deserve better, Sakura.' -somewhere comfortable to live… Then he’d take it.

Anything to stay here.

-o-O-o-

The days passed without a hitch.

No more sightings. No new threats. No ghostly silhouettes lurking past the train station or waiting at alley mouths with familiar, sickening grins and logos.

Just… stillness.

It made Sakura uneasy. Even more so as time slowly passed. 

He wasn’t foolish enough to relax, not completely. But the sharp edges in his chest had dulled- just a little. Enough for sleep to finally return, shallow but undisturbed. No more gasping awake to phantom hands or blood-slick memories.

Maybe… could he let himself hope that the group had already left Makochi? 

No, not yet. 

And then the next weekend arrived.

Saturday morning draped over Makochi like a thick, gray film. Too early for real heat, too late for morning chill, the air just hung - quiet and heavy, like it was holding its breath.

So was Sakura.

He stood near the complex stairs, already dressed and ready, phone in hand. Fidgeting. His thumb hovered over a notification that didn’t exist.

Tch.

Scowling, he stuffed the phone into his pocket with too much force, jaw clenched. His thoughts felt like angry bees- buzzing, stinging, refusing to settle. It was training day. He wanted to go. He just also wanted to throw up.

Then-

A low, steady roar cut through the silence, and Sakura looked up to see a familiar bike cruising around the corner. The dark shape rolled to a stop in front of him with a purr of the engine, the rider flipping up the visor of his helmet with a click.

Intense teal eyes peeked through. A gloved hand lifted. A grin bloomed, cheeky and unrepentant under the helmet.

Endo waved him over.

Sakura rolled his eyes so hard it might’ve counted as a full stretch. Still, his feet moved. He trotted over, grabbing his own helmet- the one he now kept stored in the empty closet back home.

He didn’t comment on that . He had bigger things to complain about.

“Good morning, Sakura!” Endo chirped brightly as he kicked the bike into neutral.

“Tch. Why do you always have to unhook the sidecar when you’re picking me up, bastard?”

Endo’s grin widened under the helmet, eyes squinting in amusement. “What can I say? I like havin' ya close to me~”

Sakura’s entire face went red. “ Hrk–! ” ‘Every damn time with this jerk-! Why’s he so insistent on teasing me?!’

He swung a hard smack to Endo’s shoulder. “Shut the hell up!!” was all he could manage- his brain too short-circuited to come up with a better comeback.

But Endo didn’t even flinch. “Ahahaha! Such a cute angry kitten, gettin’ all hissy at me.” 

Sakura cringed so hard it nearly folded him in half, yet his face blazed red and grit his teeth until he thought they might crack. “I will fucking strangle you.”

“I’m sure you will.”

“God damn creep.”

“Love you too.”

Sakura turned away from him with a furious huff, the helmet thankfully shielding most of his expression- though the tops of his ears were still suspiciously pink.

He hated him. He hated this- He hated the stupid flutter in his chest that wasn’t fear and wasn’t anger and wasn’t anything he had a damn name for.

Was he getting sick or something? Then why did he feel so happy?!

Nearly shaking with embarrassment, Sakura forced himself to get onto the bike behind Endo while the tattooed man just hummed, completely oblivious to the boy’s silent mental breakdown as he revved the engine. “Hold on tight, kitten~.”

“Do not call me that!”

“C’mon, it’s cute-”

“I will crash us myself.”

With that final hiss, the bike roared off into the streets of Makochi, carrying the two of them into whatever hell Endo had planned for the day.

It took about ten to fifteen minutes to get there- and by the time they reached the familiar alley behind Endo’s garage, Sakura practically launched himself off the bike the second it slowed.

Endo had barely managed to park before the bi-colored teen was already stomping ahead, helmet clutched tight in one hand like a lifeline.

“Aww, c’mon…” Endo drawled as he swung his leg off the bike, pouting dramatically. “You’re so jumpy, Sakura~ I promised not to bite!”

Sakura didn’t answer- just kept walking stiffly toward the entrance, his ears still visibly red. The older man watched him go, grinning softly to himself. Any more teasing and the poor boy might’ve actually combusted.

They stepped into the dimly lit apartment, the faint scent of incense and fabric softener lingering in the air. The blinds were cracked open just enough to let in a ribbon of daylight across the couch where Takiishi sat, lazily hunched over his controller, thumb tapping in steady rhythm.

A giant cup of caramel and cream boba rested on the coffee table next to him, sweating in the warmth. Thank god for AC cooling units. Summer was the worst.

“We’re back, Takiishiii~!” Endo announced like they’d returned from war.

Sakura lingered behind him, gaze flicking to the red-blonde man on the couch. “...Hello.”

His voice was quiet, awkward- but genuine. He even gave a small wave, more relieved than he’d admit to see the other again. 

Takiishi didn’t look away from his screen but gave a nod of acknowledgment. “How’s Umemiya doing?”

That had become routine- Takiishi asking after the Furin boss every time they met. A habit. Maybe curiosity. Maybe something else.

Rubbing the back of his neck, the teen sighed. “The same as ever… ranting about his precious vegetables ripening nicely and so on.” Seriously, that guy would not stop talking once somebody got him going-

Takiishi gave a soft hum, like he’d expected that answer. Then, after a beat:
“...And you?”

Sakura blinked. He hadn’t been expecting that.

“I-I’m fine. Thanks… You?”

“Fine.” The response was short, clipped- but not cold. For Takiishi, it might as well have been a warm handshake.

From the corner of his eye, Sakura could see Endo quivering with unspoken joy, looking like he might start sobbing into the drywall. He cleared his throat instead, sniffling back imaginary tears. Was this really such a big deal?

“Well! With your lovely bonding outta the way-” Endo clapped his hands, spinning toward the kitchen. “Since it’s almost noon, I was thinking we could whip up somethin’ good for lunch. Wanna help me?”

Sakura startled, mismatched eyes snapping to the taller man. “Wuh- huh? Help…? I-I don’t have much experience with cooking-”

“That’s fine,” Endo said easily, already tugging him toward the open kitchen. “I won’t make ya do anything too difficult. Just follow my lead, hm?”

Glancing toward the stove like it might explode under his touch, the teen reluctantly sighed. “If you’re sure…”

“Course I’m sure,” Endo hummed, already rolling up his sleeves, the gloves discarded on a random shelf. “C’mon, let’s start simple.”

They settled into a surprisingly smooth rhythm. Under Endo’s guidance, Sakura helped prep a basic rice and fried pork dish, complete with a side salad and some scrambled eggs. 

The older man made a point of walking him through everything- how to hold the knife properly, how to adjust the heat on the stove without setting himself on fire (or panicking and unplugging the damn thing) , and even how to flip the pork just right to get a golden sear.

It was awkward at first. Sakura fumbled a few steps, too tense in his movements, but Endo never mocked him. Just nudged his hand gently here, adjusted the angle of a spatula there, patient in a way that made Sakura's stomach twist more than the frying scent of garlic.

Eventually, he got the hang of it. His posture loosened. His grip steadied.

And when Endo spooned a bit of the rice sauce into a small dish for him to try, Sakura took it without complaint. He gave it a cautious taste- then blinked, clearly surprised. “...That’s actually good.”

The older man practically glowed. “Heeeyy~! I’ll take that as a compliment!”

“You don’t have to sound so smug about it,” Sakura muttered, but the words lacked heat.

“I’m not smug,” Endo said, proudly puffing his chest out like a self-satisfied peacock. “I’m just right.”

Sakura snorted quietly and turned back to the stove before his smile betrayed him.

By the time everything was plated, Takiishi still hadn’t moved from the couch. He hadn’t offered a lick of help, golden eyes glued to his game like the apocalypse could wait until he beat the final boss.

So Endo set the food out himself, dragging Sakura with him to sit at the kitchen table. Takiishi joined a few seconds later- console finally set down, boba drained to its last bits of ice.

They ate in relative peace. Quiet, but not awkward. Just the clink of utensils, the soft whir of the fan overhead, and the occasional sound of Endo groaning in delight over his own cooking like the dramatic bastard he was.

Then, somewhere around the last bite of pork, Endo cleared his throat.

“So,” he started, wiping his mouth. “I asked again- Takiishi’s fine with it, by the way- long as you don’t mess with his setup or bother him too much.”

Sakura blinked up. “...With what?”

“The offer,” Endo said casually, though there was a flicker of sincerity behind his intense teal eyes. “Of you maybe stayin’ here with us.”

Right- There it was. Again.

He didn’t answer immediately, instead, the bi-colored teen picked at a grain of rice near his plate’s edge, mouth drawn tight. The idea still felt too big, too sudden- even if a small part of him wanted to say yes.

“I… I’m still not sure,” he muttered eventually.

“That’s okay,” Endo replied, gentler this time. “No pressure. Thought maybe I could give ya a full tour instead- y’know, let you see the whole layout. Might help.”

Sakura hesitated. Then gave a small nod. “…Alright.”

And when Endo smiled, wide and satisfied, it was the kind that made Sakura’s chest ache- like he was being seen and welcomed before he could even ask to be.

‘You deserve this, Sakura.’

Once lunch was done and the dishes stacked neatly in the drying rack- mostly by Endo, since Sakura had nearly dropped a plate twice- Endo led him around the apartment. 

The tour was brief but thorough: a couple bedrooms, two bathrooms (Sakura nodded solemnly at the shelf of fancy shampoo), a cluttered storage closet Endo breezed past with suspicious speed, a small gaming room for Takiishi, and finally the guest room Sakura had woken up in many weeks ago, with neatly folded sheets and a surprisingly dust-free desk.

“You’d have this one,” Endo explained, hand resting on the doorframe. “No one else uses it, and it gets good sunlight in the mornings.”

Sakura didn’t respond, but he lingered a second longer in the doorway before following Endo back to the living room.

They flopped down onto the large couch- Endo loud and sprawling, Sakura much more subdued- and Takiishi barely glanced up from his game, which he had resumed in their absence.

“Oi,” Endo said, swirling the can of soda he had gotten for himself before turning to face Takiishi, leaning just a bit too close, “where were you earlier? You were gone when I woke up.”

Takiishi simply batted the tattooed man away without much force, much to Sakura’s surprise. “Got boba.”

“…That’s it?”

“After I beat up some nobodies.”

Endo groaned, half-exasperated, half-already having expected this. “ Awe, too bad I missed it… Were they any fun?”

“No.”

As the older man kept poking for details, trying to pry more words out of the red-blonde like a crow pecking at a vending machine, Sakura’s attention drifted. Something had caught his eye- something hanging off the corner of Takiishi’s black and gold wallet, which laid next to the now empty cup of boba.

It was a keychain. Beat-up, scuffed from years of wear, the colors dulled but unmistakable. A crude little charm, shaped like a cartoonish cat with one ear chipped off and a lopsided smile. He hadn’t seen it in years. Couldn’t have.

His heart stuttered.

No way.

“Where…” Sakura’s voice cracked before he could steady it. “Where’d you get that…?”

Takiishi didn’t look up, but Endo did, blinking at the sudden shift in tone.

“Oh, that?” he said, gesturing with his thumb. “That’s Takiishi’s special keychain! He always carries it around like some kinda good luck charm~ Nearly got murdered when I tried to touch it!”

Sakura’s lips parted. He stared at the charm like it might jump up and bite him.

“Ah…”

The sound barely escaped him, too breathless, too tight. His fingers curled against his leg. That charm- it was from–

No.

No way. 

Impossible. 

And yet, the longer he looked, the more the world began to blur at the edges.

His hands twitched in his lap. A dull tremor at first- barely there- but it spread fast, crawling up his arms like static. He couldn’t blink. Couldn’t look away. That stupid, chipped cat charm-

No, stop. Don’t spiral- not now- 

A fog rolled into his mind, thick and suffocating. Thoughts slowed, thickened like syrup. The present thinned, pulled tight like old paper, and then-

It ripped.

A dim hallway. A peeling floorboard. The scent of lemon cleaner sharp in his nose, undercut by something faintly chemical… Alcohol.

The distorted shapes of two adults swam into focus- them. Always them.

He couldn’t see their faces clearly, only that they looked through him, never at him. Like he was a stain. A mistake. Something left too long in the dark.

“That whore should’ve just done me a favor and taken you with her.”

“I wish you were never born.”

He stood in the entryway like a ghost, backpack too big for his tiny shoulders, fingers knotted so tightly around the straps they ached. His head was down. Always down. No sudden moves. No eye contact. He had learned that much.

The man’s hand rose.

A finger. Pointing.

“Stay in that shed. Until you’ve covered that hair and eye, a freak-show like you isn’t welcome here. Especially not around our son.”

And there- just behind the silhouettes of those adults, half-obscured by the doorway- stood the boy. Taller than him, cleaner, brighter-...

Expressionless.

Silent.

Blank, golden eyes staring through him. 

The adults stood in front of him like a wall. To protect their son. From him.

From the monster shoved onto them by the social workers. 

For the longest time, he hadn’t been allowed outside during the day. Not near the house, not where anyone could see him. 

Even after he scraped together enough money to buy hair dye and cover the white part of his hair, the hatred in their eyes didn’t change. If anything, it seemed to deepen. Like he was trying to trick them into forgetting what he was.

Their disgust was constant. Palpable.  

Suffocating.

His chest heaved. The air in Endo’s apartment was too thin, too heavy. The couch beneath him didn’t feel real anymore. The soft murmur of the game console and Endo’s occasional chuckles dissolved into a dull ringing.

Hair dye. Contacts. Every morning, scrubbing himself raw to hide what he was.

Sick. He’d been sick with it. Sick of the mirror, sick of himself, sick of that look. He never wanted to be seen like that again.

He hadn’t meant to be born like this.

He was sorry.

Sakura’s breath hitched. And still, his cursed mismatched eyes didn’t leave the keychain.

Their son- he never joined in. Never defended him either. He just watched. Always quiet, always distant. So Sakura avoided him, kept to the opposite side of the yard whenever they happened to cross paths.

He never expected that to change. Not until that one day.

He’d gone out for air, lungs desperate to breathe something that didn’t reek of dust and mildew. Just a short walk to the nearest corner store. He’d saved enough for another box of hair dye- his roots were showing again, and he couldn’t risk being seen like that. They would notice. Sir and Madam always noticed.

It should’ve been a routine trip. Quick. Silent.

Instead, it turned ugly fast.

A small group of older teens- guys with too much time and too little sense- cornered him on the way back. Saw the bag, the product, and laughed. One of them grabbed it. The others shoved him. Called him names. Mocked his voice, his hair, his eyes, his face.

Sakura tried to run. He didn’t get far.

They caught him by the collar, yanked him back down- and then–

It was over in seconds.

A blur of motion tore through the group like a blade through paper. Bodies hit the pavement. Sakura barely registered what happened until he saw the boy standing over them, breathing steady, eyes glowing gold beneath a fringe of black hair.

The boy- Their son, whose name he didn’t even know as they had never told him . 

“You don’t deserve to know his name- you’ll only curse him.”

The boy didn’t say a word. Just stared at the crumpled bodies a beat longer, then turned to leave like it meant nothing.

Sakura had sat there, stunned, lungs burning. He hadn’t even realized he was shaking until the boy’s back grew smaller in the distance. Something inside him lurched.

He stood. Stumbled after him.

Maybe it was foolish. Maybe it meant nothing.

But in that moment, it felt like the first time in his life someone had stepped in- had done something. Even if the boy hadn’t looked at him once, even if he hadn’t said a single word.

Sakura had followed him anyway.

“Happy birthday! I know it’s not much… but I got you this!”

“... Thank you.”

“You… don’t have to keep it if you don’t like it-”

“No, it’s fine. I… It’s nice.”

“So you’ll… keep it?”

“Yeah.”

He tasted copper. Bit down too hard on his tongue- he didn’t even remember doing it. The sharp tang grounded him, if only barely, as he fought to climb out of the hole the past had dug open in his chest.

His vision blurred again. Not from memory- no, this time it was real. Wetness stung at the corners of his eyes, heat prickling behind his nose, but he refused to let it fall. Not here. Not now.

But that damn keychain- it shouldn’t be here. It couldn’t be here.

It was like the universe reached into his life just to twist the knife a little deeper.

His nails bit into the fabric of his pants, digging down into his thighs until the pain dulled the static screaming in his head. It did nothing to stop the churn of disbelief rotting in his gut.

Takiishi.

Takiishi Chika.

The name echoed, slow and hollow, taunting him. 

Sakura’s eyes flicked back to the other teen on the couch- slouched posture, one leg draped lazily over the other, expression disinterested as ever. But those eyes -

Golden. Sharp. Bright.

The teen stared, transfixed. They shone like sunlight in a still pond- crisp and cutting, even in their apathy.

Eyes he’d seen before. Eyes he knew. Because he saw them every day in the mirror. Twisted slightly by hue and shape, dulled by the years between- but still the same. Still his.

And suddenly, it all clicked.

Of course he’d noticed. Somewhere deep in the haze of instinct and denial, he had noticed- those eyes, that quiet presence, the way something about Takiishi pulled at a thread buried far too deep- A past he had buried, now slowly dragging itself out of the grave again, clawing its way towards him. 

But he hadn’t let himself believe it. Couldn’t. Because if it was true- if this wasn’t just some cruel trick of his memory-

A small sound slipped out, caught between his teeth. It scraped raw against his throat, too close to a sob. He fought against curling in on himself, chest twisting.

Because that keychain was real. Those eyes were the same. 

Not imagined. Not a trick of memory or trauma-fueled projection. Not some sad, desperate hope trying to fill a lifelong absence.

The boy- the only person who had ever seen him as something other than a curse, a freak, a thing to be hidden or used- was right here. Sitting beside him. Real. Solid. Close enough to touch.

And he hadn’t let himself believe. He hadn’t dared to. Squashed any hope and left it to die as he closed himself off to survive. 

The sick weight of that crashed down on him, choking out every thought except one:

This couldn’t be real. 

But it was.

And now he couldn’t stop himself. Couldn’t shove the truth back down, couldn’t bite back the words already forming on his tongue, fragile and aching and stupid. 

“You really… kept it,” he whispered in disbelief. 

"No! I told you I can't say your name out loud! Sir and Madam said I'd curse you!"

"That's stupid. They're stupid."

"Maybe- maybe a nickname would be better? A nickname only I'll know?"

"Hm, ...fine. But in return, I'll give you one as well."

"Y-yeah! Then... how about--"

“Chi-nii?”

Endo paused mid-sip, soda can hovering just shy of his lips. His brow creased as he glanced toward Sakura- then toward Takiishi.

Takiishi, who had gone deathly still.

The console in his lap dimmed. His hands didn’t move. Golden eyes stared straight ahead, fixed on the frozen screen- but he wasn’t seeing any of it.

Time thickened, stretched thin like glass. Sakura’s breath stuttered.

And then the fear hit.

What if he didn’t remember? So many years had passed since he last had seen him- 

What if he didn’t recognize him? Because he was no longer dyeing his hair black? Not concealing his eyes?

What if he did care- and hated him for disappearing?

Sakura reeled back, hands flying up to his mouth. His nails bit into his palms as he forced down the scream trying to claw its way out. His tongue hit the raw spot on his cheek where he’d already bitten through skin.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid-!

He turned sharply away, shrinking into the corner of the couch, shame coiling tight in his gut.

“A-ah, nevermind. Forget it,” he muttered quickly, voice shaking. “Sorry. I didn’t mean- I got confused–”

The soft clatter of plastic hitting hardwood cut him off.

Sakura froze, body coiled tight and ready to bolt. He’d screwed up. Screwed it all up, again. 

Takiishi’s game console had slipped from his hands. His head turned slowly, golden eyes locking onto Sakura like he’d been yanked out of another world.

He stared- silent, unmoving- before leaning past Endo, hand outstretched and reaching.

Please don’t- 

The instinct to pull back- to strike, to run- clawed up his spine. But he didn’t move. Couldn’t.

Please don’t see-

His whole body braced, breath shallow, chest wound tight like a trap about to snap.

Please don’t hate me-!

Fingertips met his face, trembling ever so slightly. They traced just beneath his left eye- hesitant, almost reverent- as if trying to confirm what shouldn’t be possible. The gold there caught the light.

The same shade. The same shape. A reflection.

Sakura’s breath stuttered. His vision blurred.

Why did it hurt so much to be seen?

And then-

“…Haru?”

The sound of that name- his name, spoken like it meant something- knocked the air clean out of him.

The bi-colored teen went rigid. His body didn’t listen, didn’t move. Just stared back, wide-eyed and breathless, as the gaze he thought he’d never meet again bore down on him.

Takiishi’s voice wasn’t loud. It wasn’t even fully steady. But it knew him. That voice knew him.

Not the version of him now, all hardened and angry and desperate to find somewhere he belongs- but the him from back then. That smaller, quieter thing still hiding inside his chest.

Sakura’s throat bobbed, dry. He didn’t speak.

He couldn’t.

The moment stretched- tight and unbearable. The apartment had gone silent except for the low buzz of the ceiling fan above. 

Endo, caught between them, blinked and looked back and forth, clearly confused. But- for once- he said nothing.

“…Haru,” Chika repeated. Firmer this time. Like he was trying to ground himself. Like saying it again might make it real.

That gaze… it burned.

Golden and sharp and unmistakable. It pinned Sakura in place, left no room for denial. This was real.

And he almost flinched away- But he didn’t. 

Because how could he turn away from the first person who’d ever looked at him- not with disgust or fear or pity- but recognition ?

The boy he hadn’t been allowed to speak to. The one who stood behind their parents while they spit venom and locked the doors. The one he’d only ever interacted with in secret- sticking to him even when he was pushed back for getting too close- before eventually opening up. 

His chest ached. Every second dragged barbed wire across his ribs.

He’d told himself that he wouldn’t be remembered. That even if they’d shared those fleeting months- passing glances, small acts of kindness, nicknames whispered in secrecy- it hadn’t mattered.

Not enough.

Not to someone who had the whole house, the whole family, the whole world.

But now that same someone was staring at him like he was something precious unearthed from ash and bone.

Like he wasn’t a mistake.

Like he wasn’t forgotten.

Like he meant something.

A trembling breath shuddered out of Sakura’s too-tight lungs. He didn’t realize his fists had curled against his knees, his nails digging crescent moons into denim, nearly drawing blood. His vision remained blurred at the edges, too many things rising up all at once- hope, shame, fury, guilt, want.

He was unraveling.

And still, the fiery-haired man looked at him.

Not like a stranger.

Not like a freak.

But like he’d just found something irreplaceable. Something he thought he’d lost a long, long time ago.

Sakura could feel himself cracking beneath it. Because there was no mistaking it now.

No more pushing it aside. No more pretending.

That was him.

That was his-

His older brother.

Takiishi Chika.

Chapter Text

Gold.

A similar hue to his own, but this time, it was much brighter.

Brushing careful fingers beneath the edge of the boy’s eye, Takiishi Chika stared. Watched as a faded memory bled over the face in front of him. 

Gone were the chubby cheeks, the perpetually tired eyes. The skin, once sickly pale from too many days without sunlight, had darkened just slightly- healthier now, maybe. Stronger.

So much stronger.

That was what caught his attention, back when he first saw him fight against Endo in their garage.

Not just the strength- but the way it looked familiar. The way it made something old stir in his chest. A reflex. A flicker. He’d crushed it down without thinking. Buried it.

But now, with that same eye looking up at him from this close-

He knew.

There was no denying it.

It was him.

Still him.

Still his.

His younger brother.

He hadn’t forgotten. Not for a second.

Even when people told him to move on. Even when no one else remembered there had ever been a boy living in the back shed.

It happened a week after his eleventh birthday. He remembered the date exactly- June twenty-eight. Not because anything special had happened, but because he’d been holding a box of pocky sticks he’d been saving to share with Haru. Strawberry flavor. The kind the kid always liked.

He’d gone to school that morning like normal. When he came back, the shed was empty.

No noise. No small figure crouched by the broken heater. No soft hums or scraped-up knees.

Just silence. And his parents, tossing blankets and books into a trash bag like they were cleaning out a pet that had died.

He remembered standing there, frozen, watching his mother drop a cracked mug onto the concrete and sweep it up like it meant nothing.

When he asked where Haru went, they didn’t even flinch.

“Tossed out the trash,” his father muttered. “He was leeching off us long enough.”

“You should be glad,” his mother added coldly, like she was offering him advice. “That cursed freak won’t be weighing you down anymore. You can finally live like the son we raised you to be. Not the rag-tag delinquent he tried turning you into.”

Glad?

How dare they say that?

When they were the ones who locked that child out of the house? When they shoved him into the half-rotting shed like an afterthought- barely fed him, never spoke his name, pretended he didn’t exist?

That “cursed freak” they hated so much had been so quiet. So frail. His ribs showing through loose shirts. Big eyes always darting away. So scared of making noise that Chika had only realized he was living out there days later- half because no one told him, half because they’d clearly meant for it to stay that way.

At first he’d thought they sent him away again. That they gave him up. But they didn’t.

They kept him in there- for the money the social workers sent. Kept him caged and silent and starving until Chika decided enough was enough.  

He’d seen it happen, too. The day it all clicked.

A group of older boys chasing someone through the back alleys near his school. Laughing, mocking, throwing rocks, tugging at his shopping bag. And then he saw him- a thin blur of limbs and white-streaked hair, stumbling on scraped knees and barefoot soles. Filthy shirt. Hollowed cheeks.

The kid. 

They cornered him like he was some vermin. Called him a freak. Asked if he even knew what he was. One of them raised a bat.

Chika stepped in.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t ask questions.

He just dropped his bag and broke the biggest one’s arm. The rest ran after that. He never chased them. Didn’t need to.

When it was over, the kid just stared at him. Wide-eyed. Breathing too hard. Bleeding from the lip.

Then, like some stray cat that couldn’t help itself, the kid followed.

Chika hadn’t said a word to him. Not that first time. Not even when the kid tried to keep up with his pace, limping along behind him, a step or two back, like he didn’t want to be a bother.

It took weeks before Chika heard him speak. 

Even longer before he learned his name.

Haruka.

The name had settled into him like a nail to the chest- quiet and permanent. He’d never told anyone else about it. Never said it out loud. Didn’t need to- The nicknames they had given one another were enough. 

And to see his parents- those people- toss everything Haru harbored away like it was meaningless…

Like Haru had never existed.

Like he was something disposable .

Like he was dead.

That was the turning point.

The moment Chika stopped pretending. Stopped caring about the house he lived in or the people who claimed to be his family. He didn’t want their name anymore. Didn’t want anything from them.

So he took another- Takiishi - his uncle’s, a strong and stubborn man who’d taught him how to fight but ended up dying too early. 

From then on, he promised himself two things: 

He would live for himself. 

And one day- no matter how long it took- he would find Haru again.

Time blurred. So did faces. None of them mattered.

He fought to feel anything. To let out the fury festering inside him. Anyone who crossed him became a target.

But even as the memory of that little boy grew more distant- those wide golden eyes, those too-thin arms- Chika didn’t let go. Couldn’t.

He held on. Even when it hurt. 

Especially then.

Years passed.

And he didn’t find him.

What he found instead was Endo - or rather, Endo found him , and clung to him like some stubborn, smiling parasite.

Annoying. Persistent. But he offered something Chika needed.

A way out. A way forward.

Through Endo, Chika finally got distance from that house, that family. His parents, already half-absent and disinterested, stopped trying once he grew into something they couldn’t control. Someone violent enough to make them look away.

And that was fine. He didn’t need them.

He had his fists. He had his new name. And he still had that promise .

Even if the boy was gone.

Even if the trail had gone cold.

Chika never stopped looking.

And now- to see that very same face, the one he’d spent years searching for- right here, right in front of him this whole damn time…

It pissed him off.

Not because Haru was here. But because he hadn’t noticed. Hadn’t put the pieces together sooner. Hadn’t seen what was right in front of him- the gold eye, the stance, the way he didn’t know how to handle kindness, terribly jumpy. All the signs were there.

But Haru was here now. Alive. Strong. Unmasked.

No longer hiding the traits he’d once been called a freak for.

And Chika, who had always kept his mouth shut and let his fists speak for him, found himself wanting- needing - to say something. Anything. 

To show how proud he was. How relieved. How happy .

Feelings he’d shoved down for years surged back up like a dam cracking. But he pushed them aside. Not because they weren’t real- because he had to stay steady.

Because beneath his fingers, Haru was trembling. Small and silent and holding back, like he always did. Even as a kid- biting down sobs, shaking but never letting himself cry.

So Chika stood.

Didn’t say a word. Just brushed past the confused look Endo shot him and crossed the space in a few quiet steps.

Haruka didn’t back away.

That was all the permission he needed.

He pulled the kid into a clumsy, too-tight hug- arms stiff and unsure at first, because he hadn’t held anyone like this in years. Not since he was small. Not since he was the one clinging.

But the moment Haruka curled into him- fingers fisting in his shirt like they used to back then- Chika exhaled. Long and slow.

His arms relaxed. His eyes fluttered shut.

He had him.

Finally.

And this time, no matter what-

He was never letting go.

-o-O-o-

He buried himself in the warmth of Chika’s arms-Takiishi’s, he supposed- but that name didn’t feel right. Not after this. Not after everything . His fists clenched into the fabric of the other’s shirt, knuckles aching, chest aching more .

His thoughts wouldn’t line up. Couldn’t. They blurred and skidded like wet ink on cheap paper, refusing to settle.

He was exhausted. Bone-deep, soul-deep tired.

And now, after everything-  Chika was here. Alive. Whole. 

His.

Sakura didn’t know what hurt more- realizing he hadn’t seen it sooner, or realizing how badly he had missed him.

No wonder he hadn’t recognized him. The dyed hair, the extensions, the sharp edges adulthood had carved into his once-soft face. It had all kept him hidden, unknowable. And yet, now that he knew , it was like the world had shifted into focus- like his brain was scrambling to superimpose childhood memories over the present, like one of those cruel spot-the-difference puzzles.

The same gold eyes. The same steady silence. The same way his hand always knew when to hold firm and when to let go.

Sakura let out a shaky breath. His fingers tightened for a moment before he pulled back, slowly, reluctantly. A single tear had escaped him, trailing hot down his cheek.

He wiped it away with the back of his hand like it burned.

“...Sorry,” he muttered under his breath. The word tasted like ash. He hated crying. Hated the idea of being seen like this. Weak. Small.

Chika didn’t say anything right away. Just stared down at him with those narrowed, unreadable eyes.

Then- softly, simply, firmly: “Don’t apologize, Haru. It’s fine.”

The way he said Haru - like it was something he’d been holding onto for years- made Sakura choke out a bitter little laugh. He shook his head, rubbing harder at his face like he could erase everything leaking out of him.

Then he caught movement from the corner of his eye.

Endo.

Still sitting on the couch. Still there.

Wide-eyed, arms slack at his sides, mouth open like someone had unplugged his brain mid-thought. Having seen everything-

Sakura stiffened. “...The hell you starin’ at?” he snapped, voice raw but sharp enough to bite. He turned just enough to glare, trying to force down whatever was still making his throat tight.

Endo blinked slowly.

“...Well,” he said, almost helplessly, “Sorry, but- uh.” Sakura had never seen the older man so speechless before. 

He pointed between them vaguely. “Hold on. ‘Haru’?? As in, that Haru?? The one you made me track down for months while I burned through half my contacts and client list like a lunatic?”

The teen paused. “...What?”

Chika sighed beside him. “Yeah,” he answered blandly, like it was obvious. Like it wasn’t shattering Sakura’s sense of reality even more.

“What are you talking about-?” Sakura asked, voice rising an octave, glancing wildly between the two of them.

Endo didn’t answer right away. He just stared at the floor like it had personally betrayed him.

“Give-... Gimme me a minute to process this,” the tattooed man said, dropping his head into his hands with a groan, fingers carding through his wavy hair. “Seriously. What the hell- of course you two are brothers… That certainly explains things.” He let his arms drop with a dramatic sigh and added, more to himself than anyone else, “You really are a wildcard, huh?”

Sakura sat there, stiff and unsure, Chika’s arm still loosely around his back. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to lean into it again or crawl under the couch and vanish. His emotions were twisting over each other- relief and guilt, warmth and dread.

He glanced up at Chika again. That familiar face, older and sharper. The steady presence that hadn’t changed at all.

“Can anyone please explain, damnit?” Sakura asked, voice cracking in the middle. “Because I still don’t get what’s going on.”

Endo exhaled and gave a one-shouldered shrug, his usual smirk dulled but not entirely gone. “Aight, so. Long story short? Takiishi’s been lookin’ for you ever since you… disappeared.”

Sakura blinked. ‘What?’

“Shortly after I met him, he got me involved too. Not that I had a choice,” he added, pointedly, with a side glance at Chika. “Mostly to avoid gettin’ a fist to the face and bein’ allowed to follow along. He doesn’t exactly ask for things. He just sort of stares until you realize what he wants and hope he doesn’t kill you for taking too long.”

Chika didn’t deny it. 

Endo continued, a little softer now as he leaned forward. “But the trail went cold years ago. Real cold. You were like a ghost- no records, no whispers, not even a rumor. I figured you were a cold case, honestly. Dead or off the grid.”

Sakura swallowed. His throat hurt.

He turned to Chika again. “You… never stopped looking?”

A slow nod. Quiet. Firm. True.

That was all it took.

The bi-colored teen’s chest clenched, and it took every scrap of willpower not to fall apart again. His fingers dug into his sleeves, clenching around the fabric like it could hold him together. “Chi-nii…”

The nickname came out unbidden. Raw. Small. It hung in the air like something sacred.

Endo shifted uncomfortably, teal eyes flicking between them, before a spark of curiosity flickered to life. “Not to, like, ruin the vibe or anything,” he started, “but… what happened ?”

Sakura’s head snapped toward him. ‘No. Don’t. Please-’

“I mean,” Endo went on, hands raised like a peace offering, “why did you disappear in the first place? What the hell happened to you?”

Chika, beside him, had gone still, arms suddenly growing tight. 

“...Yes,” he said, golden gaze sharpening. “What happened, Haru?”

There was no warmth in his voice now- only focus. Lethal and unwavering.

The younger shrank under their stares. His spine curled forward almost instinctively, like he could fold himself into invisibility. One arm went to guard his midsection. His voice came out small, strained. “It’s… nothing.”

Chika’s jaw tightened. He didn’t buy that for a second. Chi-nii always knew when he was lying. 

Endo, too, narrowed his eyes.

And then-

“Does it,” Endo asked slowly, cautiously, “have anything to do with that group?”

Silence. Sharp and immediate.

Sakura froze. His blood turned to ice. Muscles locked tight. The words hit like a punch to the sternum- stealing all the air from his lungs.

"That... group?" His older brother echoed slowly, fingers twitching against his back. 

Sakura whipped his head toward Endo, his mismatched eyes wide with panic. 

Did… Endo know? Had he connected…

No. 

No, that was impossible. He couldn’t know. He’d never talked about it- not even once. Not to anyone. He’d buried it. 

While the older man had witnessed his freak-out, how could he have possibly connected them and their group to his past? A hunch? Maybe a lucky guess?

And yet, the way Endo stared at him now, testing, watching with quiet intensity- like a wire pulled taut and waiting to snap- Sakura’s gut twisted.

He knows. He knows something.

And it made Sakura sick.

Still, lying was out. Not with Chika right next to him, arm still around his back like a steel cable. He'd always been able to see through him. Even when Sakura tried to hide it. Especially then.

So what was he supposed to do? Deflect? Laugh it off?

Run?

His legs twitched. He almost did.

But Chika’s hand tightened against his shoulder, fingers curling with the slightest pressure- anchoring him. Stopping him. Expecting him to try and bolt.

Of course he did- He remembered. Just like back then, when he'd asked about Sakura’s mother. Just like then, Sakura had wanted to run so badly his whole body had itched with it.

And just like then… Chika had stopped him with a hand. With a stare. With a quiet sort of please.

Sakura bit the inside of his cheek. Hard. Tasted blood. His breath shivered.

He should tell them.

Chika deserved to know. After everything. After he had disappeared- after Sakura left him alone with them, with no explanation, no goodbye.

Maybe… Maybe he could try.

Maybe, if he started small, it wouldn’t feel like the world was swallowing him whole.

The bi-colored teen swallowed, throat dry and raw, and gathered himself.

“I… uhm…” His voice was barely a whisper. He wanted to kick himself for sounding so damn weak. 

“Sir and Madam-”

The names were all he got out before Chika’s hand suddenly tensed against his shoulder, grip hardening like iron. His whole body shifted beside Sakura, quiet rage building beneath the surface. The sharp grind of his teeth was audible.

Sakura, unable to help himself, flinched.

So did Endo, who stared at Chika like he’d just seen a crack form in a statue.

Sakura’s chest caved inward. His hands curled into the fabric of his shirt. ‘Get it together.’

“They… they approached me,” he continued, voice shaking, “after… after your birthday. When you went to school.”

Chika didn’t say a word. But he didn’t move either.

Sakura’s eyes dropped to his lap. He couldn’t look at them. Not now when it was already getting harder to speak- to breathe. 

“They told me I… wasn’t worth the money anymore. After all the damages I caused. Said I was too much trouble, and that-” His voice cracked again.

“They said they’d hand me off.”

No one spoke. Not even Endo, who always had something to say. Sakura wished he would- something , anything- to crack this suffocating atmosphere, to shatter the white noise screeching in his ears. But no.

Nothing.

Just his own ragged breathing. And the horrible, echoing sound of truth spilling into a space where silence had once sheltered him.

“I…” he started again, the word dragging itself out of his throat like glass.

“I argued back.” His voice was barely audible now, hoarse and thin. “Because- I still wanted to at least get Chi-nii a goodbye gift.”

His hand twitched up to his scalp, grasping violently at strands of his two-toned hair. White and black. Always the wrong mix. Always a reminder.

Stop it, stay on track. 

“But they-”

He sucked in a sharp breath. Shaky. Shallow. Weak. So damn pathetic-

“Sir got mad. Dragged me into the car before I could even grab my things out of the shed-”

Endo stiffened at the corner of Sakura’s blurred vision. His head tilted ever so slightly. And then- 

“Shed?”

Mouthed silently. But Sakura saw it. And the way Endo’s teal eyes darkened, something dangerous crackling behind them like lightning just barely held at bay.

Sakura ignored it. Had to. He couldn’t go there- not now. Not with that memory trying to claw its way up too.

Chika shook his head beside him, a slight movement, but full of silent fury. His jaw was tight. His golden eyes sharper than ever- locked on Sakura, his grip still firm, but gentler now. Grounding.

It made him want to cry all over again. 

“Sir told me…” Sakura’s voice wobbled, unraveling thread by thread, “that we’d go to a place where freaks like me belong.”

A sound tore out of Chika. A breath too sharp to be anything but a growl. His hand twitched, nearly crushing the fabric of Sakura’s plain shirt.

Endo hissed between his teeth. “Motherfu– ”

Sakura pressed on, words toppling out now, faster and more broken than before. “And… And we didn’t stop driving. Just kept going until the city faded away. Ended up in some industrial area- old factories and stuff, I think. I don’t- I don’t know. I was crying too hard. I didn’t understand.”

He was curling in on himself again. He was tired. So, so tired. 

“Sir left me there. For the people he made a deal with. The…” His breath hitched, bordering too close on a sob. “The people.”

He squeezed his mismatched eyes shut, shaking his head like he could shake off their faces, their eyes, their hands.

“That group.”

Terror surged back in full force.

“T-They–”

He couldn’t do this.

Oh god, he couldn’t do this.

His chest clenched hard. His lungs refused to expand. His throat shrank, wrapped in invisible wire, every breath a desperate, failing attempt. 

The world spun- colors running at the edges of his vision. Too many eyes on him. Too many hands grabbing through bars, harshly dragging him back.

The spotlight burned into him again. His skin remembered the heat. Remembered the cold afterward.

He’d been an exhibit.

A product.

A thing.

A freak show on full display for monsters in expensive shoes. Faces hidden behind blank masks. 

He wanted out.

Out.

Out-

Out OUT OUT–!

His vision blurred. The room was too bright. Or too dark. Or both.

There was a sound- his own, maybe- a quiet, stuttered wheeze. A soft choke. A wordless cry that never made it past his lips.

His hands clawed at his hair, at his sleeves, at anything to keep him from completely splintering.

Why?

Why this one?

He was supposed to have gotten better at this- He had gotten better. He could handle it now. That’s what he told himself every damn night- every time he was rattled awake by the damn nightmares- Memories-! 

So why now?

Why did it feel like he was drowning? Like he was nine again. Small. Helpless. Nothing but a number. 

In front of Endo. In front of his brother.

He was being pathetic.

He was pathetic.

He was terrified. 

Mismatched eyes burned, vision fracturing into tunnels of light and shadow, and his throat- his throat was gone , replaced by a noose tightening with every ragged breath. 

He couldn’t fight it. Couldn’t stop it. His mind was being dragged under, screaming, and no one could hear it but him.

‘Make it stop. Please, make it stop-

He wished- desperately, stupidly- that his friends were here.

Nirei- Suo- Kiryu- Tsugeura- Someone, anyone, to help him–! 

He couldn’t do this. 

He couldn’t- he couldn’t breathe–!

Then- hands.

Sudden. Steady. Real.

Someone gripped his arms- gently, but firmly, anchoring him.

“Sakura-!” A voice. Deep. Frantic. Endo’s.

And then- another. Stronger than the last, not in volume but in presence. 

“Haru.” Just that. Chika’s. Like a quiet storm pressing back against the chaos.

He was being pulled- no, guided- backwards until his spine met a warm, solid wall. No- not a wall. A chest. A heartbeat.

A hand splayed across his chest, palm pressing against where his heart thrashed, wild and frightened, like it wanted to flee his ribs. That hand stayed steady. Pressed. Not too hard. Just enough to say I’m here. I’ve got you. Breathe.

The chest behind him expanded slowly. In. Out. A rhythm. A guide. He was supposed to follow it. So he tried.

In. His breath caught.

Out. A wheeze.

Again.

In. A little more.

Out. Still shaking, but-

Another set of hands touched his face.

Cooler. Softer. Cradling his burning cheeks like they were something fragile and sacred. Thumbs swept under his mismatched eyes, wiping away the tears he hadn’t even realized were falling- tears that stung, that clung to his lashes, salt and shame and heat all mixed together.

Slowly- so slowly- he felt the tide begin to recede. He wasn’t drowning anymore.

He blinked. Once. Twice. The haze lifted, if only a little.

And then- golden eyes. Wide. Raw. Terrified.

“Chi… nii…?” he rasped, voice paper-thin and shredded at the edges.

Takiishi Chika- his brother- sat in front of him, on his knees on the couch, hands still cupping his face like they were the only things keeping it from falling apart.

“Haru,” Chika said- breathed, really. “You’re okay. You’re okay. It’s okay.”

Sakura had never heard him speak like that. So fast. So human. There was no blank mask. No flat tone. No distance.

Just trembling sincerity. Frayed and real.

‘Oh, I messed up again…’

Chika’s thumbs moved again, swiping gently under his eyes, brushing the tears away even as more threatened to come.

“You’re okay,” his brother repeated, voice soft and breaking- yet sounding so unsure. So wrong-

And somehow, that was what made Sakura’s chest squeeze tighter than before. The fact that Chika wasn’t saying it like some infallible, distant figure… but as someone just as shaken, just as lost, trying so desperately to believe it himself.

Sakura hummed low in his throat, a small sound, uncertain. He wriggled slightly, trying to shake the dull ache spreading in his arms, the numbness crawling through his legs- only to realize-

He couldn’t move.

There was something- someone - solid behind him. Arms around him. His back pressed flush to a chest, warm and steady. A palm still laid firm over his heart.

Sakura’s breath hitched again.

“Wh-” he started to shift.

“Don’t move."

Oh, right- Endo-

The older man’s voice was low. Almost a growl. Not angry, but raw. Frayed in its own way. Possessive, protective.

“ Please. ”

Sakura froze at the word. 

He couldn’t see Endo’s face from this angle, but he didn’t need to. It was there- in his voice. The tightness, the unease. Like Endo wasn’t holding him, but something fragile that might fall apart again if he wasn’t careful.

God… ‘m tired. 

“I know,” Endo replied, quieter now, like he was talking to a wounded animal. “That was a lot, huh?”

Sakura blinked.

Had he said that out loud?

He didn’t remember. His mind was cotton, spun and unraveling at the edges.

“Haru…”

Chika again. Still kneeling in front of him. Still holding his face like it meant something- like he meant something.

Golden eyes stared into his. They didn’t demand. They didn’t pity.

They pleaded.

“Please,” Chika said softly, and it almost didn’t sound like him. “Move in with us.”

A pause. A breath.

“Stay here for the night.” Don’t make me let you go. 

It was spoken so carefully. So… afraid. Like the words might break if they weren’t said just right. And maybe Chika was afraid. He didn’t show it- but Sakura knew. It was there, in his eyes. In the way he hadn’t let go. Caring oh-so-much even after all the years they had spent apart. 

Sakura’s brows drew together, lips parting slightly in surprise. No one had said that to him before. Not like that. Not with fear of loss.

He let out a huff. Half a laugh, half an exhale. His head tipped back, bumping lightly against Endo’s collarbone.

He was so… tired. Brain fogged. Chest heavy. But his heartbeat was slowing. Just a little.

“Okay,” he whispered.

Simple. Soft. True.

It wasn’t much. Just one word. One thread of trust, thin and trembling on his tongue. But even so- something in the air shifted. Like the walls he’d kept up for years had cracked… just enough to let light in.

Not all at once. Not clean. Not perfect.

But maybe that was fine.

He’d been broken open tonight- splintered from the inside out. But the hands holding him hadn’t let go. They were still here. Still real. Still trying.

And maybe- maybe that was how it started. Not with grand promises. But with fractures, left aching and raw- and the slow, careful laying of something stronger in their place.

Not perfect. But his.

Something worth building on.

Something that might, one day, feel like home.

Chapter Text

Sakura slumped forward in his grip, the last thread of tension slipping loose like a snapped cord. Endo stiffened instinctively, heart jumping- until he realized the kid wasn’t breaking again. He was out cold. Asleep.

A breath he hadn’t realized he was holding dragged its way from his lungs, sharp at first, then shallow, settling. His teal eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

So it really was them.

That group.

And whatever the hell they’d done to Sakura- whatever had made the kid freeze like prey, scream without sound, collapse into himself like he’d been gutted from the inside- they were going to pay. Slowly. Deeply. Repeatedly.

The man was glad that he had looked up panic attacks after that first time- The market incident. Sakura collapsing on sight- glass-eyed, unbreathing. He'd prepared- Just in case. Though he had hoped he’d never see it again- Sakura cracking and wilting, the vibrant cherry blossoms withering before his eyes. 

But no amount of reading had prepared him for what it actually felt like. Watching it. Holding him through it. That image- Sakura’s crumpled form on the floor, shaking like the world was ending- flashed behind his eyes. Again. And again.

Endo clenched his jaw. Rage hummed under his skin, slow and hot, slithering like a pack of agitated snakes. 

Across from him, Takiishi hadn’t moved. Still crouched there, face-to-face with his brother, hands cupping Sakura’s cheeks as if letting go might make him disappear. His mask- always unreadable, always fixed- was splintered now. Fractured down the middle like glass held together only by habit.

It was jarring. This was the same guy who’d tracked ‘Haru’ down with zero emotion in his voice. Who’d trained with all the intensity of a blade being honed for war. But now… those golden eyes looked almost wild.

Endo shifted slightly, loosening his hold just enough for Sakura to rest easier against his chest. His hand stayed planted over the teen’s heart, steady and firm.

“Hey. Takiishi-”

“What group.”

The voice wasn’t loud. But it cut. Endo’s lips pressed together.

Takiishi’s gaze had moved. Now it was locked onto him, molten and unblinking. Like a furnace- a blazing inferno threatening to leave nothing but ashes behind. 

The calm before incineration.

Endo swallowed once, but didn’t look away. Slowly, he raised one arm in a half-hearted surrender, careful not to jostle Sakura where he lay- limp, barely breathing deeper than a whisper.

“I’ll explain,” he said, voice steady, if quiet. “Just… try not to break anythin’.”

Takiishi didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe. But his fingers twitched. ‘Oh boy…’

“The first time I met Sakura- after the whole war against Furin I set up for you-” Endo began, “-we were walking through the shopping street. Just talkin’. Or I was talking. He was mostly ignoring me- or listening.”

That earned the faintest twitch of a brow. Encouraging, if anything. So Endo continued. “I didn’t notice anything strange at first. Just a group of older guys walkin’ into view ahead of us. They didn’t do anythin’- barely even looked our way. But Sakura… froze. Completely.”

He could still remember the shift. The air going thin. The absolute stillness, like prey caught in a snare it had seen coming far too late.

“He wouldn’t move. Wouldn’t blink. Just stared. I tried talkin’ him down, but he was gone. And then-” Endo exhaled, jaw clenching. “-he passed out. Collapsed right there on the street.”

Takiishi scowled. A full, open scowl. “He… passed out?”

“Yeah. Dead weight. Scared out of his damn mind.” Endo shook his head, the words still bitter on his tongue. “That was the day I carried him home. The day after that, you found us sparring in the garage, remember?”

Golden eyes flickered briefly with recognition. Takiishi gave a curt nod, then jerked his chin- go on.

Endo hesitated, glancing back down at the boy in his arms. The way Sakura’s brow twitched faintly in sleep. How his fingers curled subtly into Endo’s tank top, even now. So small, despite everything- despite how much he’d grown- how strong he had gotten. 

Too small for the weight he’d been carrying.

“I didn’t want to press him,” Endo said, more quietly now. “But I memorized the logo on those guys’ jackets. Just in case.”

Takiishi’s silence sharpened.

“A blank silver mask. No mouth. Just two slits for eyes.”

For a moment, the room was silent save for Sakura’s shallow breathing.

“It was hard to dig anything up. Probably meant to be forgettable- easy to ignore. But I’ve got… people. Former clients, old contacts. Called in a few favors.” He swallowed hard, faintly remembering the sleepless night, carding through all the information. “And one of ‘em- an old yakuza guy- told me to stop lookin’. Told me to drop it.”

Takiishi’s eyes narrowed. The golden hue darkened dangerously. 

“I didn’t.” Endo’s voice dropped. “He ended up givin’ me a name. Said if that symbol’s involved… it’s probably tied to underground trade. Specifically…”

He faltered. Looked down again. That damn lump in his throat. 

“…human traffickers.”

Silence.

Takiishi didn’t move.

Endo might’ve preferred a punch. Might’ve handled yelling, even- something loud, something violent- something normal . But this? 

Still. Hollow. Wrong.

The older man’s golden eyes trembled. Just for a second. Then they dulled- went glassy, unfocused, like something vital had short-circuited behind them.

His gaze dropped, slipping from Endo’s face down to the boy in his arms. Down to his brother. Sakura shifted faintly in his sleep. A small inhale. Lips parted. Still clinging to Endo’s tank top like it was a lifeline.

Endo waited. Breath caught in his throat. Then–

Takiishi moved. Carefully. Slowly. Fingers brushing against Sakura’s temple, then his cheek. Just once. As if confirming he was real. Still breathing.

His hand trembled. He let it fall. And without a word, he turned and walked off- toward the garage.

The door shut behind him.

Endo blinked.

Sakura remained slumped against his chest, light and quiet. Still asleep.

Then-

Clang!

A muffled crack echoed from the garage wall.

Thunk!

A heavier impact this time. Sandbag. Had to be.

“...He’s livid,” Endo muttered under his breath, exhaling at last. He adjusted his grip around Sakura gently, cradling the sleeping boy closer as the quiet thuds continued from the garage. “All for you, Sakura.” 

For now, there wasn’t much else he could do.

Let Takiishi burn it off. Let the storm pass.

He’d stay right here.

Anger.

No- rage.

It roared beneath his skin like wildfire, burning through every breath, every heartbeat, until all Chika could do was move. Strike. Hit. Again and again and again.

His fists slammed into the sandbag with brutal precision- no technique, no restraint. Just weight and fury behind every blow. The chains holding it creaked. The thick canvas groaned.

Human traffickers.

Their parents- that man - had given Haru to human traffickers.

That had to be what the sudden spike in money was. Blood-soaked bills. A silent transaction. The cost of destroying a child.

The image of Haru- crumpled, crying, struggling for breath in Endo’s arms- flashed behind his eyes.

Chika hit harder. Didn’t stop.

His knuckles were starting to split open, skin peeling raw, but he didn’t feel it. Didn’t care. That pain was nothing. Haru had most likely endured so much worse-

He was going to kill them.

Everyone who touched his brother. Everyone who looked at him wrong. Every last one of those twisted bastards.

He’d burn their entire world down.

One final swing- 

CRACK.

The bag flew back, violently jolting on its chain. A seam tore, hissing sand out in a slow, steady stream.

Chest heaving, Chika stepped back. His hands were shaking now. Bleeding. He rolled his shoulders, flexed his fingers, stared blankly at the damage. The pain didn’t register.

He dragged in a breath. Then another. Slowly. Forcing it. Steam vented. Not all of it. But enough.

Time to go back.

He slipped through the door again.

Endo hadn’t moved. Still on the couch, arms around Haru- who was curled against him, sleeping. Vulnerable. Quiet. But the tattooed man was carding a hand through the boy’s two-toned hair now- absentminded, slow, careful.

And just like that, something in Chika’s chest unknotted. Barely.

Haru was safe. He’d keep it that way. 

No matter what. 

The soft creak of the garage door pulled Endo from his thoughts.

He stopped humming- some idle tune he hadn’t even realized was coming out of him- and glanced up, though his hand didn’t stop carding through Sakura’s hair.

Takiishi looked like hell.

His hair was a little messier than usual, stray strands sticking to his forehead. His shirt clung slightly with sweat, and his chest rose with the kind of steady, deep breathing people used to keep themselves from snapping.

But the murderous glint had dulled from his eyes.

Good. That was good.

Endo didn’t move from his spot on the couch. Sakura was still tucked against him, light and warm and silent in a way that made Endo’s throat ache. But he shifted a bit to give Chika space as the man dropped down beside him with a faint grunt.

Chika didn’t say anything. Just reached out, took one of Sakura’s hands- small, calloused, twitching faintly in sleep- and cupped it between his own.

Blood smeared faintly across the knuckles of Chika’s fingers.

Endo saw it. Didn’t comment.

Once Takiishi gave a subtle nod, signaling he was ready, Endo exhaled and started talking again.

“I went and did a bit more digging on that group,” he said, voice low. Measured. “Their official name- the one tied to their organization- is the Faceless Buyers.”

Takiishi didn’t look up. Just blinked. A faint grunt, almost inaudible. Encouragement enough.

“They’re named after the Noppera-bō. A faceless ghost from folklore. Human-shaped. Hollow where the face should be.”

He paused. Looked at Sakura. Then back at Takiishi. “Thought it was poetic at first. But now I just think it fits. People like that don’t deserve faces.”

The older man’s jaw tensed. He didn’t speak. So Endo went on.

Untangling a small knot out of Sakura’s white strands, Endo scowled, fingers nimble but tense.

“They’re… pretty lay-low. Not much info on their dealings. A big incident happened a few years ago- one of their main hideouts, a few cities over, got uncovered. Made ’em back off and basically vanish off the map for a while. But apparently, they’re back now…” He paused, lips pressing into a thin line. “And not afraid to show their faces.”

The knot gave under his fingers, strands falling smooth again. He exhaled sharply through his nose, withdrawing his hand from Sakura’s hair to rest it gently against the teen’s chest. Just in case. The heartbeat beneath was steady. Calmer. Good.

“But from the access I could get- some old case files that were made public…” Endo’s voice lowered. Darkened. “It’s bad, Takiishi. Real bad. They mainly went for kids and teens. Anythin’ under eighteen. Some as young as six fuckin’ years old.”

He couldn’t help the shudder that followed, the coil of nausea settling in his gut like rot. Next to him, Takiishi didn’t move- except for his hand, which tightened subtly around Sakura’s. Gripping it like an anchor. Like a lifeline.

“Haru…” The older man’s voice rasped, low and gravel-edged. “He would’ve only been nine.”

Nine. Thrown away like garbage. Sold. Traded for silence and money and whatever else that bastard of a father wanted.

Endo grit his teeth, watching as Takiishi’s bloodied fingers curled tighter around his brother’s pale hand- some of that blood now smudging against Sakura’s skin. The muscles in his jaw twitched. If he could personally strangle every last one of those faceless bastards, he would.

Takiishi inhaled slowly- forced himself to ease his grip. To not wake the boy still slumped between them. His voice, when it came, was clipped.

“Anything else I should know?”

Endo hummed, head tipping back. He thought about saying no. About letting it lie for now. But… there was one more thing. Pages of heavily redacted information that had him feeling sick the remainder of the night- The reason he hovered behind Sakura more often whenever they went outside. 

He hesitated. 

An impatient shove to his leg made him jolt. Of course. No mercy from Takiishi. “Right, okay- yeah. There’s one more thing.”

He dragged a tattooed hand through his wavy hair, bracing. “During that big incident… the raid on their base… a decent number of kids were rescued. Some were in bad shape, but they got out. But there was one kid the cops couldn’t find.”

He paused- then met Takiishi’s golden eyes. The air between them had gone still again, heavy, even with the fan above them doing its best to regulate the airflow. 

“The other kids talked about him during their interviews. Said he was the one who got them out. Picked locks, distracted guards, broke rules that could’ve gotten him… ‘discarded’. The kids called him their ‘savior.’ Their hero. But-” he swallowed thickly- “he was also the one who always got punished. Took hits for the others. They said he never cried. Not once.”

Endo’s teal gaze flicked down to the boy nestled against him. His voice dropped.

“He was labeled the ‘favorite.’ The main attraction. Grade-A product and ...personal property of the boss. Had… a unique look that made him stand out. Pale skin. Two-toned hair. Heterochromia.”

He didn’t have to say it. Takiishi already knew. It was obvious. 

“They weren’t allowed to know his real name,” Endo went on, voice growing exhausted. “But apparently… the guards and clients called him Shirayasha.”

Takiishi blinked. Once.

“White Demon,” Endo translated quietly. “Beautiful. Unruly. They said he never stopped fighting.” He paused. Something sour rose in his throat as flashes of the case file rippled through his mind. “One of the kids mentioned… that they used to keep him muzzled.”

The words dropped like lead and Endo paused, teeth briefly sinking into the inside of his cheek. It tasted like rust.

“Said it started after he bit one of the guards. Bad. Needed stitches. Then he did it again. And again.” His voice dropped lower, a dry- humorless chuckle getting stuck in his throat. “Didn’t matter how much they beat him for it. Every time they went after the other kids… he’d bite. Wouldn’t even use his hands- just tore into them like some damn wild dog. Said it was the only time they saw the guards hesitate.” 

Next to him, the fiery-haired man had gone rigid. His posture unchanged, but tension vibrated beneath his skin like a bowstring pulled too tight. His jaw ticked- sharp, slow, dangerous. Flames licking at the edges, ready to burn everything to cinders-

Endo continued, slower now. “The other kids… they were scared when they first saw it. The muzzle. Didn’t know what it was for.” He dragged a hand down his face, exhaustion prickling behind his eyes. “So they avoided him- But opened up eventually when he took the blame for 'em- protected them. Because of course he did- so damn righteous...” Just like in their fight- desperate to protect the ones he cared about. Ready to give everything up in order to save Furin. 

"That... sounds like him." Takiishi breathed, almost inaudible. But the underlying exasperation in his voice was clear. The fondness he held for his younger brother. 

A brittle silence spread between them. Even the warm evening air outside seemed to still.

Endo glanced back down at the boy in his arms. Pale face flushed with sleep, lashes twitching faintly. How the hell did a kid survive that? If he was right, then Sakura would’ve been with that damn organization for about four years- making him only 13 when the hideout got uncovered. 

He exhaled, pressing on. “No one knows what happened to him. Some thought he was relocated before the raid. Others assumed the boss and the inner circle took him with them when they ran. The police tried lookin’ for him. Searched for weeks. But then the trail vanished. Like he never existed.”

His gaze drifted, landing on the coffee table, on nothing. “Officially, they stamped it as ‘unresolved.’ Unofficially?” He scoffed. “Most think he burned with the rest of the compound. That the accidental fire wiped him out.”

Endo’s fingers curled unconsciously into the thin blanket he had draped over Sakura’s side while Takiishi had blown off some steam in the garage. “And the rest of the file? Redacted. Whole chunks of it. Pages missing or blacked out. Almost like someone up high didn’t want this story known. Didn’t want him known.”

Across from him, Takiishi hadn’t flinched. But something in the man had… shifted. Not visibly. Not outwardly. But it was there. A shadow passing behind gold eyes that had dulled into something deadly. Rage without motion. Heat with no release. Endo had been around him long enough to know when the fiery-haired man was about to lash out.

“…And the ones who were caught?” Takiishi asked at last. “The ones behind it. Do they have names?”

The tattooed man exhaled sharply through his nose, lips drawing into a sneer. “Tried that already. Every traceable name was either scrubbed or marked ‘sealed by court order.’ The higher-ups buried it hard. Most of ‘em? Apparently disappeared before they could even be processed. Either fled overseas or… someone helped cover their tracks.”

His tone dropped into a growl, flat with resentment. “I wanted to do somethin’. Anything, even if this is far outta my league. At least make sure those bastards never got close to another kid again. Wanted to make it safe- for him. But I can’t. Not without names.”

Looking down, he brushed his thumb unconsciously across the hem of the blanket. “Feels wrong. Knowin’ this much when Sakura doesn’t... But I figured it was better to be prepared than ignorant. If they come near again-” his shoulders tensed, “-we won’t be caught off guard.”

For a few moments, nobody said anything, only listening to Sakura’s soft breathing and the whirr of the fan above them. 

Then Takiishi’s fingers tightened around his brother’s hand.

Endo tensed, sure the man was going to move. That he’d stand. Smash something. Hunt someone. Hell, maybe even kill someone. Endo certainly felt like snapping a neck or two-

Sakura stirred.

A soft, near-silent exhale. His head dipped forward, slumping under Endo’s chin as if pulled there by gravity. Hair brushing his jaw. Warmth pressing against his chest.

Both men froze.

Mismatched eyes cracked open slowly, dazed and glassy. Sakura blinked once, twice- confused, caught in that bleary place between dreams and waking. His lashes fluttered as he looked around, then down.

“Chi…nii?” he rasped, barely audible.

Chika immediately leaned into view, his red-blonde hair casting shadows over his furrowed brow. “Haru,” he said softly, his hand tightening gently around Sakura’s.

That seemed to settle something in the boy. His gaze softened. A quiet yawn escaped him, his body unconsciously relaxing again.

“’m sorry…”

Endo tilted his head slightly at the muffled apology, Sakura’s two-toned hair brushing up against his jaw. “Don’t hafta’ apologize, Sakura,” he said, voice low and even. “It’s fine.”

But Sakura blinked up at him again, this time more awake- more present. His eyes locked on Endo’s.

And then the realization struck.

“WHA-?!” the teen squawked, suddenly launching upright with a jolt so fast he nearly toppled over the armrest. Endo reacted on instinct, looping an arm around his waist and dragging him back before he could take the thin blanket- and the lamp- with him.

“There, there- you're fine~,” Endo drawled with a lazy grin, chin propped against the top of Sakura’s head like this happened every other Tuesday.

“You absolute bastard–! Let go!” Sakura flailed, red blooming across his cheeks and ears, legs kicking uselessly beneath the blanket. His voice cracked halfway through the insult, too tired to carry the threat.

A sharp thwack landed across Endo’s upper arm.

His older brother didn’t even look mad- just tired of this particular brand of nonsense. His narrowed gaze said behave, and Endo had the audacity to grin wider.

Sakura gave a high-pitched hiss, still caught in his fluster, but too tangled in both limbs and embarrassment to escape. “I’m fine, dammit!”

“Define ‘fine,’” Endo deadpanned, still holding him in place, “after nearly dissociating and spiraling into a panic attack on us?”

And just like that- the fight went out of him.

“Haru,” Chika said again, softer this time.

His hand let go of Sakura’s and rose instead to cradle his face, thumbs brushing against the remnants of saltwater clinging to flushed cheeks. The touch was grounding- constant. So careful it almost hurt.

Sakura started to speak. But then he saw it. The blood.

Dried along Chika’s knuckles. Split skin. Bruising already blooming along the ridges of bone. His breath caught.

“You…” he murmured, reaching up but stopping short. “Your hands…”

“We’re not gonna push you anymore,” Chika interrupted, voice quiet. Steady. That unreadable mask he always wore had cracked again- just a little- but this time, he didn’t try to fix it. “But thank you. For trusting us.”

The words settled heavy and warm in Sakura’s chest.

Slowly, tension bled from his shoulders. He leaned back a little, easing out of Endo’s hold. The older man let go without resistance, retreating his arms with the same casual gentleness as always- but it was Chika’s hands that stayed, firm on his face, as if to remind him he was still here. Still seen. Still safe.

Sakura swallowed hard.

And breathed.

The moment hung for just a second longer- before Endo clapped his hands once, loudly, breaking the spell.

“Alright!” he stretched, spine cracking audibly. “I think we’ve all hit our emotional limit for the day. How ‘bout I whip us up somethin’ decent before we crash? I vote: no more drama till morning.”

The corner of Sakura’s mouth twitched. He nodded. “Yeah,” he murmured, starting to stand- too fast. The moment he got upright, the blood drained from his face. His balance tipped sideways.

A strong arm caught him before he could sway.

Chika, still at his side, barely even blinked. Just reached out and steadied him.

“I’ll help-” Sakura started, stubborn as ever.

“Absolutely not,” Endo cut in immediately, already off the couch and halfway to the kitchen. “You’re benched, Sakura. Sit your ass down. I’m not about to scrape you off the floor just ‘cause you think you’re tougher than you are.”

Sakura scowled, ready to argue- but Chika’s hand touched his elbow. Light. Reassuring. Gold eyes met his mismatched ones, unwavering. And that look alone deflated his resistance.

“…Fine,” he muttered and glanced away.

“Good,” Endo called over his shoulder. “One less headache for me!”

‘This goddamn bastard-’

Sakura reluctantly sat back down and leaned into the back of the couch, still catching up to the speed of everything. “When are you driving me back, then?” he asked, not really thinking.

There was a pause. Endo turned, a kitchen towel slung over one shoulder. “Drive you?”

Chika huffed under his breath. “You’re staying here,” he said simply. “You promised.”

Sakura blinked.

He had…?

Oh. Right.

He had.

“…Right. Sorry. Head’s still jumbled.”

“Then quit overthinking,” Endo called back, the fridge door clicking shut behind him. “We’ve got spare clothes, the guest room’s yours, and there’s enough curry here to revive a corpse. You’re not going anywhere.”

Sakura didn’t argue. Again.

He just let himself sink deeper into the couch cushions, gaze following the way Endo moved through the kitchen with the kind of practiced ease that suggested he’d done this a lot- cooked for others. Taken care of others.

It was… nice.

Dinner passed in a slow haze. The scent of curry had been comforting enough, but the warmth of the food, the low chatter (mostly Endo), and the calm silence that Chika seemed to cast like a protective barrier around the space- it all blurred together.

Sakura barely made it halfway through his bowl before his eyelids began drooping again.

Unfortunately, Endo noticed.

“You fall asleep in that chair,” he warned, pointing his spoon at him, “and I swear I’m carryin’ you bridal-style to bed.”

Sakura immediately stiffened. “Like hell you are-!”

But the threat worked.

Grumbling under his breath, the teen forced himself upright and followed Chika upstairs. The clothes he was handed were simple but soft- slightly too big, but clean and warm. He washed up quickly, letting the hot water sting his tired skin. It felt… weirdly good.

By the time he fell onto the bed (an actual bed!) in the spare room, two-toned hair still damp and mind fogged, he was asleep in under a minute.

-o-O-o-

The first thing that yanked him from sleep was the buzzing.

That- followed by the blinding glare of his phone screen.

(Where… was he again? Right. Endo’s place. No- Endo and Chika’s. His brother. He’d found his brother again. Then promptly spiraled into a full-blown panic attack. Perfect. What a beautiful, emotionally-stable reunion after, what, nearly six years? Fantastic.)

Groaning, Sakura cracked one eye open and groped blindly for the device, dragging it toward his face. The vibrating stopped. But the screen lit up again, and the notifications kept pouring in- bright little banners flashing across his lock screen.

Missed messages. A lot of them.

Mismatched eyes narrowed. What the hell did he sleep through now?

The class 1-1 group chat was lit up like a firework finale- dozens of unread messages stacked on top of each other. Some spammed emojis, others shared blurry selfies, and a few were just all-caps yelling.

…Did he miss something?

He blinked blearily at the screen, trying to force his vision to focus. A flash of the date in the corner caught his attention.

August 5th.

His blood ran cold.

August. Fifth.

Sakura jolted upright so fast he nearly sent himself tumbling off the bed. Sheets tangled. Limbs flailed. Dignity nowhere to be found.

“Shit-!”

The summer festival!

Chapter Text

“Shit-!”

Sakura flailed, limbs tangling in the soft sheets of the bed. 

He barely managed to stay upright, heart hammering like he’d been jolted awake by an earthquake.

Right. August fifth.

He’d completely forgotten.

Togame had called him last week after training- something about a summer festival over on Shishitoren turf. Fireworks, food, shaved ice, grilled squid, karaage, takoyaki, candied apples, cotton candy- by the end of the call, Sakura had been practically drooling, even though he’d never actually tried half those things before.

Togame had listed each stall like it was sacred scripture, his lazy drawl curling around the names like smoke. And somehow, that had been enough to wear Sakura down.

Well. That and the food.

So of course he’d agreed. Told Togame he’d round up his friends and meet them at the tunnel- the one under the train bridge separating Bofurin and Shishitoren’s turf.

And judging by the group chat blowing up about yukata options-

Sakura groaned and dragged a hand down his face.

Right. His friends had spent days bugging him to buy one. Something “stylish,” apparently. Because god forbid he show up in just a plain T-shirt (because that was literally the only thing he had-).

He checked the time again.

5 p.m. was the meetup, and it was just past eleven now… So he had roughly six hours left.

“Ah, screw it all,” he muttered, shutting off his phone without checking the rest of the newer notifications and promptly shoved off the blankets. His limbs ached faintly, but the weight in his chest had lightened. Just a bit.

After quickly smoothing out the now wrinkled clothes Chika had handed him yesterday, Sakura ran a hand through his mess of bedhead before stepping out of his-  ...the spare room. Not his room.

Not yet.

He padded downstairs quietly, peeking around the corner of the stairwell. It seemed like Endo was already awake, judging by the low hum of some old tune coming from the kitchen. Sure enough, the tattooed man stood at the stove, leisurely pouring something into a pan. 

Across from him, perched on one of the barstools by the counter, was Chika. The red-blonde’s expression had settled back into its usual unreadable blankness, but his attention flicked over a handheld game console, fingers tapping slowly.

Everything looked... oddly domestic. Normal. Something he could get used to.  

Swallowing the knot rising in his throat, he crept a little closer and cleared his throat.

The sound was barely audible, but both men looked up anyway. Even Chika paused his game to glance over, head tilting ever so slightly.

“Morning,” Sakura managed, voice just shy of cracking. A small victory. He mentally patted himself on the back.

Endo offered a lopsided grin in return. “Mornin’, cherry blossom. Pancakes’ll be ready in three. Making your favorite.”

Sakura blinked. Then promptly flushed, his left eye twitching at the nickname. “I- uh- okay? Thanks.” ‘Cherry blossom? Seriously? That’s way too on the nose!’

He shuffled the rest of the way over, dropping onto the stool next to Chika. The older teen didn’t say anything right away, but he didn’t go back to his game either. Just watched him, quietly. Calmly.

“…How’d you sleep?” Chika asked at last, voice low.

“Ah- fine,” Sakura replied, a little too fast. “Thanks. You… too?” His brother simply nodded in response, though his golden gaze softened, just a little.

Sakura exhaled, fiddling with the hem of the shirt he’d borrowed- slightly oversized and worn in, but comfortable. The fabric felt oddly grounding beneath his fingers. “That’s… good. Uh. Anyway, I- kinda forgot something.”

At the stove, Endo turned halfway, brow raised. “Forgot somethin’?”

The bi-colored teen nodded, not looking up from where he was tugging at the shirt’s fabric. “Yeah. Today’s the summer festival. Over on Shishitoren turf- and I promised to meet my friends there. Five p.m. By the tunnel.”

Silence followed.

Endo didn’t respond immediately. Just turned back toward the stove with a neutral hum, but his humming had stopped. The tattooed man flipped a pancake a little too sharply while his brother had gone very still- no longer looking at the console on the counter, or at Sakura. His hands had lowered, resting loosely between his knees, gaze unreadable.

Sakura blinked. He’d expected a groan or a joke, maybe Endo offering to sneak into the festival and crash it. But instead-

“...What?” he asked, unsure why his chest suddenly felt tight.

“You sure you wanna go?” Endo said, too casual, almost… careful? 

Sakura stared, eyebrows knitting together. “I… yeah? Why wouldn’t I?” The tattooed man didn’t turn back around, just shrugged his shoulders. “Dunno. Just askin’.”

Chika didn’t speak either, which unsettled him even more. The tension in the air had gone from mild to suffocating in seconds.

“…You’re both acting weird,” Sakura muttered, mismatched eyes flicking back and forth.

Endo finally looked over, one eyebrow raised, the faintest frown tugging at his mouth. “You were out cold for more than half a day, y’know.”

“I’m fine,” Sakura snapped, sharper than he meant to. “Just needed to sleep it off. That’s all. The festival isn’t gonna kill me”

The silence that followed was heavier than before.

Then, finally- his brother nodded. Barely. But it was permission- no- it was trust, and that was all Sakura needed. 

“…Thanks.” Relaxing slightly, Sakura let his shoulders drop and turned his gaze away. He toyed with a loose thread on the borrowed sleeve, fingers twitching with hesitation, before glancing up again.

“Do you guys, uh… by any chance still have a yukata or something?” he asked, voice lower now. “Everyone’s been bothering me to wear one, and I don’t exactly have one lying around.”

Endo snorted, his teasing drawl sliding back into place like a glove. “They bullyin’ you into dressin’ all traditional?”

Sakura flushed immediately, heat rising to his ears before he could suppress it. “They were insistent, okay? And if I don’t show up in one, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Without a word, Chika stood and walked off toward the hallway. Sakura blinked after him, brows furrowing in confusion. He barely had time to process it before his brother returned, arms cradling a neatly folded bundle of deep red and gold.

The fabric shimmered faintly as the light caught on the simple yet vibrant details- stylized stitches etched in gold thread across a background so rich in color it looked like it had no business being anywhere near a teenage boy with a habit of getting into fights.

Chika held it out to him. Hesitantly, Sakura reached forward and brushed his fingers against it- soft, heavier than it looked. Expensive. Too expensive.

“Wh- wait,” he stammered, leaning back slightly. “Chi-nii, I can’t wear this! It looks expensive! It feels expensive!”

Across the room, Endo raised a brow and folded his tattooed arms over his chest. Chika, as usual, said nothing. Just stared.

“…What?” Sakura asked.

Still no response. Only unblinking silence.

“I mean it - I can wear something else, seriously-”

More silence.

Endo tilted his head, mildly entertained. Chika’s expression didn’t shift an inch.

Eventually, Sakura sighed in defeat, shoulders slumping like a scolded child. “Fine. Fine . I’ll wear it. God.”

He muttered something under his breath about knowing better than to argue. Arguing with his brother had never gotten him far… and Endo had already wasted enough money feeding him and letting him crash here- making it explicitly clear that he didn't mind it. 

Chika gave a small, satisfied nod and turned back to the bundle, peeling away the outer fold. “Obi’s in here too. I’ll help you tie it.”

Sakura blinked. “Wait- You know how to-?”

But Chika had already stepped past him, clearly expecting him to follow. And, like some lost duckling, Sakura did. Of course he did.

This was his brother. It was fine.

. . .

This was not fine.

He absolutely did not sign up for this.

Ten minutes later, Sakura found himself planted in front of the hallway mirror, stiff as a board while his older brother stood behind him, calmly adjusting the golden obi sash around his waist with alarming precision.

“Stop fidgeting,” Chika murmured, tone quiet but firm- patient in that terrifyingly composed way of his.

“You’re choking me,” Sakura hissed, voice high and sharp with indignation as he tugged uselessly at the collar.

“I’m not,” came the deadpan reply.

“You are!”

Behind them, a familiar groan of emotional agony echoed from the kitchen doorway.

“Oh my god,” Endo drawled, sounding like he was moments from collapsing into tears. “He’s bein’ gentle. Look at this. Look at this brotherly display. I’m gonna cry. Takiishi, you’re so soft~ And Sakura’s poutin’ like a lil’ prince. So feisty- hold still, lemme get a pic-”

“Touch that phone and die!” Sakura barked, face burning scarlet. He tried lunging, but Chika’s grip around the obi held him in place- gentle, sure, but ironclad all the same.

“Rude~,” Endo sighed theatrically, dabbing at invisible tears like the world’s most dramatic stage actor. “Tryna capture a core memory here…”

Sakura growled low in his throat, muttering something unkind under his breath as Chika gave the final tuck on the sash and stepped back, finally releasing him.

He barely had time to breathe before-

Click.

He froze.

“…Oops,” Endo said.

" MOTHERFU–! ”

-o-O-o-

In the end, they did end up convincing him to let them drop him off- though not without a struggle.

The low rumble of Endo’s bike echoed down the otherwise quiet alley. Sakura clung to the seat, face taut with anxiety as he hissed lowly, “If either of you dare get spotted, I’m jumping off and taking you down with me.”

“We live to serve,” Endo drawled sweetly, twisting the throttle.

They’d planned ahead- left early, picked a discreet side street far from any festival foot traffic. And, after witnessing Sakura’s tragic attempt to mount the bike in a yukata, Chika had silently installed the sidecar.

Sakura hadn’t even had time to protest before being shuffled into it.

“I’ll miss havin’ you cling to me,” Endo sighed, mock-sorrowful. “But it has been so long since Takiishi’s sat up close~ Ah, the memories-”

Whack.

“Ow- damn, man! No need for violence!” The man whined, which only earned him another hit to the helmet. 

Sakura deadpanned. “You have issues.”

“I know,” Endo grinned.

The alley was empty when they arrived.

Sakura stepped out of the sidecar, one hand absently smoothing the front of his yukata as he glanced around- left, right- just to be sure. No sign of classmates. No one loitering by the bridge. Good.

With a small sigh of relief, he turned back toward the bike and flashed Endo a thumbs-up.

The tattooed man revved the engine once in acknowledgment, lips curled into a satisfied grin behind the helmet-

“Sakura-chan?”

The voice hit like a firework to the spine.

Sakura jolted, nearly tripping over his own feet as he spun around- mismatched eyes wide, heart lurching-

“Kiryu?! Holy-! You scared the crap outta me!”

The pink-haired teen blinked innocently before breaking into a sunny grin, completely unfazed. “Hello~ Thanks for bringing Sakura-chan! I hope you’ve been treating him well?”

Sakura barely had time to recover before Kiryu looped an arm around his shoulders, drawing him into a side-hug with practiced ease. The two-toned boy flailed instantly, face heating. “O-oi! Hands off-!”

Endo laughed from behind the visor, flipping it up with a sharp click to reveal amused teal eyes. “Nothin’ but the best for him, promise.”

And then- boots hitting pavement- Takiishi stepped off the bike behind him.

The air shifted.

Golden eyes locked on Kiryu like he was measuring something important. Not threatening- just... weighing. Judging. Kiryu, to his credit, blinked at the quiet presence, clearly trying to figure him out.

“Ah-?” he started, uncertain.

“I’m Takiishi Chika,” came the calm reply. “Haru’s brother. Look after him.” The words were even. Polite. But the weight behind them landed like a silent warning.

Sakura groaned inwardly. Of course Chika had to introduce himself like that.

Kiryu froze. He looked from Takiishi, to Sakura. Then back. Then back again. His brain visibly buffering.

“…Huh? Is that so?”

Sakura was already dragging a hand down his face. ‘Well, now Kiryu knows about that too… Sure, okay, why not.’

“It’s nice to meet you!” Kiryu added quickly, bowing slightly. “I’m Kiryu Mitsuki- Sakura-chan’s classmate. We’re close friends!”

He shot an exasperated look at both Endo and Chika- who were still observing his pink-haired classmate, and turned briskly on his heel. “Right. Great. Okay. We’re leaving now,” he muttered, grabbing Kiryu by the arm and dragging him down the alley without another word.

“Bye~! Remember to text us if somethin' comes up!” Endo called with a cheeky wave, voice trailing after them. Takiishi simply nodded once, golden gaze following their retreat before silently getting back on the bike.

'They... are leaving easily enough- Weird.'

As soon as they were out of earshot, Kiryu leaned in a little. “Soo… Sakura-chan… if I’m not being mistaken, the guy that fought Umemiya-san is your brother? When did that happen?”

Sakura simply groaned, already having dreaded the question. “Ughhh. Later, okay? I really don’t wanna get a migraine before the festival starts. Too much crap’s been going on and I haven’t even had time to process the fact that I’m moving- ugh, nevermind.”

Kiryu tilted his head, one brow lifting, following as Sakura turned a corner. “Alrighty~ Wait- ‘Moving’ ?”

The bi-colored teen visibly flinched. “Later,” he hissed, more insistent this time, already locking eyes with two painfully familiar figures loitering near the bridge tunnel up ahead. “Just- look. Suo and Nirei are already here.”

He quickened his pace in a poor attempt at escape, yukata fluttering with every stiff, graceless step.

But Kiryu wasn’t having it.

“Sakura-chan, what do you mean by moving ?” he pressed, brow furrowed as he jogged a step to catch up. “Is that why you weren’t at your flat this morning?”

Sakura halted like he’d hit a wall. He spun around so fast his sleeve flared. “Huh?!” His expression twisted with alarm, the color draining from his face.

Kiryu’s green eyes widened slightly, blinking at the sudden reaction. “You seriously didn’t check any of the messages?”

A pit opened in Sakura’s stomach. “...What messages?” he asked warily, the creeping guilt already crawling up the back of his neck. ‘Damn it- he’d turned his phone off this morning and hadn’t checked ever since-!’

Kiryu gave him a look. “Suo and Nirei tried to pick you up. They were at your place this morning. Suo said he knocked a few times.”

“Ah- shit. ” Sakura ran a hand down his face, wincing. “How the hell am I gonna explain-”

“Sakura-san!”

The sudden voice nearly made him jump out of his skin.

He looked up just in time to see Nirei dashing toward them, blonde hair slightly mussed from the wind, his face bright with concern. He skidded to a stop in front of them, eyes wide. “There you are! You weren’t home and we got really worried!”

Trailing behind at a much calmer pace came Suo, the taller teen walking with composed ease. His usual calm didn’t soften the scrutiny in his tone. “Yes, Sakura-kun,” Suo said evenly, tilting his head. “Where were you?”

Caught. Trapped.

Sakura’s gaze darted between the two of them like a cornered animal. He could feel the sweat already forming at the nape of his neck. “I- uh. I was… taking a walk,” he lied lamely, forcing a thin smile. “Y’know. To, uh… get used to the yukata.”

There was a beat of silence.

Even he didn’t buy that excuse.

Unimpressed, Suo raised a brow, his sharp auburn eye drifting slowly from Sakura’s face to the shimmering fabric of his yukata- and the precisely tied golden obi. The look said everything. Suspicion. Scrutiny. Realization. 

‘I’m sorry I can’t tell you. Not yet.'  

Sakura could feel sweat bead at the back of his neck again. He refused to meet their eyes, instead studying a particularly interesting crack in the sidewalk like it held the secrets of the universe. God, it was so unbearably warm. 

Nirei frowned faintly, concerned, but before the awkward silence could stretch any longer, a familiar voice cut through the tension like a blade.

“Yo! Everyone!”

They all turned just in time to see Tsugeura sprinting toward them, waving enthusiastically with a bright grin. “Woah, your guys’ yukatas look great!”

The mood lightened a touch. Nirei perked up and waved back. Kiryu offered a polite nod. Even Suo let out a soft hum in acknowledgment, hands held behind his back as always. 

“Indeed,” Suo murmured. “Though I believe Sakura-kun’s yukata outshines us all.”

Sakura twitched, internally scowling at himself. Of course Suo would notice how expensive the damn thing looked- he was always too sharp for his own good when it came to details.

“Says the guy mixing colors and patterns like a walking tapestry,” he muttered, then huffed, voice rising slightly as he waved a hand to cut off further scrutiny. “Look- sorry I didn’t open up or reply. I was at a friend’s place. They helped me with the yukata. Just lent it to me for today, alright?”

Suo didn’t look entirely convinced, but his expression softened, eye narrowing in acceptance rather than belief.

“I-It’s fine, Sakura-san!” Nirei added with an earnest little nod, clearly trying to smooth things over. “That’s really kind of your friend! ...Do we know them?”

“No,” Sakura said flatly, already digging his phone out from within the folds of his yukata. “They’re just… someone from my past. We met again recently.”

He checked the time, sighing softly. “Anyway. Can we just go already? Don’t wanna be late.” ‘And I don’t wanna make things even more awkward and ruin everything.’

Tsugeura gave a thumbs-up, ever the energetic one. “Yeah! Being late would be rude and against my virtue! Let’s-”

“Sakura-chaaan~!”

A blur of color streaked past them.

Before Sakura could react, someone launched at him, spinning him clean off balance. He yelped, arms flailing.

“Oi- what the fu-?!”

The world tilted. He was spun around like a top, then unceremoniously dropped back to the ground with minimal dignity and maximum confusion.

Grinning up at him like an over-caffeinated raccoon was none other than Tomiyama Choji, the eccentric leader of Shishitoren.

“Hi! You guys really came! Awesome!” the beige-haired whirlwind beamed, voice already several decibels too loud for this early in the greeting. Without missing a beat, he latched onto Sakura’s arm. “C’mon, c’mon, Sakura-chan! Over here!”

“Wha- wait- Oi!” Sakura spluttered as he was promptly dragged forward through the tunnel like a very unwilling kite. He shot a panicked glance over his shoulder at the others, only to find them just as caught off guard. Not that any of them moved to help him. Traitors.

“Where’s Togame?” he called, heels nearly scraping the pavement to slow himself down. “Didn’t he say he’d meet us-?!”

“Kame-chan’s busy!” Tomiyama chirped, utterly unbothered. “Too much to set up last minute, so I volunteered to pick you guys up! Surprise~!”

Volunteered, right. More like ambushed.

Behind them, his friends finally recovered enough to trail after, snickers breaking out among the group.

“Tomiyama-san’s always bouncing off walls, huh?” Suo hummed in amusement, adjusting the sleeve of his yukata as he watched the chaos unfold. “L-Like a sugar rush on legs…” Nirei added faintly. “I didn’t think we’d ever be back on Shishitoren’s turf,” Nirei murmured next, a little more serious now, gaze flicking around.

Kiryu smiled, turning towards the other two. “I’ve heard the rumors, but wow. There really is nothing but pubs around here.” 

“Yeah!” Tsugeura nodded in agreement, glancing back towards the tunnel’s exit. “Never thought I’d see so many bars lining a singular street of Makochi…” 

Right. Kiryu and Tsugeura hadn’t been here during the Shishitoren incident. It made sense this was their first proper look at the territory. Though even Sakura had to admit- it felt different. 

Then, finally, after crossing the tunnel and stepping out on the other side, Tomiyama skidded to a stop and released him. Sakura shook out his arm with a grimace, scowling down at the grinning menace.

Tomiyama, completely unfazed, stepped in front of them with both arms outstretched in a grand “ta-daa” motion. “And we’re heeeere! Welcome to Hiragahara Town’s very own summer festival!”

Sakura blinked, mismatched eyes widening slightly as he took it all in.

Bright paper lanterns swayed gently from overhead wires, casting warm light over the colorful stalls lined along the narrow street. The air buzzed with the scent of grilled food, laughter, music, and the clatter of games. People moved about in small groups, laughing and talking, faces glowing with excitement. Children ran between booths, couples strolled hand in hand.

It was… lively. Beautiful. A complete 180 from the bleak, tense energy he remembered from the first time he’d stepped into Shishitoren’s turf.

“…Whoa,” he breathed.

Tomiyama beamed, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Come on, get out there and have fun!” he chirped, already darting off again- thankfully without grabbing Sakura this time.

The group followed him through the bustling street, weaving past couples, groups of friends, and families crowded around food stands and festival games while the thick scent of fried food lingered in the air like a warm blanket.

“Kame-chaaaan! Sakura-chan and the others are here!” Tomiyama called out, waving an arm exaggeratedly as he dashed toward a cluster of food stalls further along.

Sakura squinted ahead, blinking when he spotted a tall figure standing behind one of the grills.

Wait- was that Togame?

Sure enough, the man looked up from the sizzling yakisoba he was flipping on the griddle. Dressed in a black t-shirt and loose dark pants with an apron tied snug around his waist, he had a white bandana keeping his brown hair out of his face. Beads of sweat clung to his temples from the heat of the grill, and his expression was somewhere between mildly overwhelmed and determined to survive.

When his deep green eyes met Sakura’s mismatched ones, his face lit up.

“Sakuraaa! Welcome!” he called, dragging out his name with that same drawling warmth as always. “Sorry- They suddenly needed the help, and I got dragged in. There are a lot of customers, too.”

No kidding. There was a decent-sized crowd lingering around the stand, all eyeing the rows of steaming noodles Togame kept expertly flipping.

“Things should calm down in a bit, though,” the man added, giving the group an exhausted grin. “Go look around first! I’ll catch up later, I promise!”

Behind Sakura, his friends murmured in quiet awe at the giant mound of noodles Togame was cooking. Tsugeura’s stomach audibly growled. Kiryu made a noise of interest. Suo tilted his head slightly, clearly impressed.

Sakura gave a hesitant nod. “O-Okay,” he muttered, a little unsure of what to do next-

“Sakura! Hey! You’re all here!”

He spun on instinct, eyes going wide when he spotted another trio approaching.

Umemiya Hajime waved as he walked toward them, flanked by Tsubaki and Sugishita. All three were dressed in colorful yukatas and jinbei- Tsubaki’s was an elegant white with vibrant floral patterns, Sugishita’s full of bold, stylized lines that probably symbolized fog, and Umemiya- 

Huh… His hair was down. That’s new. 

Sakura blinked, mildly caught off guard. He wasn’t used to seeing the white-grey strands falling so loosely over the older teen’s forehead, the usual sharpness in his look replaced with something more relaxed. Somehow, it made him look… different. Not that Sakura would ever admit that out loud.

Tsubaki stepped forward, his smile radiant as his eyes flitted over each of their outfits. “You all look so good! Of course everyone has to dress in a yukata or a jinbei at a festival!” he gushed, clasping his hands together with delight.

Sakura flushed and quickly looked away, ears tinging red. Nirei and the others, less cursed by social awkwardness, stepped up beside him to greet the trio more enthusiastically.

“Thank you! Tsubaki-san, you look really pretty too!” Nirei beamed, voice honest and sweet as always.

Tsubaki laughed lightly, clearly pleased. “Oh gosh! Thank you!”

“Ume-chan-senpai and Sugi-chan look different too!” Kiryu chimed in, smiling brightly.

Umemiya chuckled, gesturing to both himself and Sugishita- who, in contrast, was eyeing Sakura and his friends with barely concealed irritation, looking a second away from growling. “Yup! Tsubaki prettied us up!”

Sakura’s mismatched gaze briefly met Sugishita’s, and the barely restrained scowl made his brows twitch in return. Great. As if today wasn’t chaotic enough already.

“There’s a bunch of Furin boys here tonight,” Umemiya added, glancing over his shoulder toward the crowds. “Hiragi said that Sako invited him out too.”

“Anzai-san and the others all said they’d be coming,” Nirei informed, clasping his phone.

“Yeah,” Suo hummed, eye scanning the bustling foot traffic around them. “Almost everyone in our class will be here.”

Sakura twitched, absentmindedly rubbing the back of his tingling neck. Almost everyone? Great. Just great. Maybe he really should’ve looked at his phone before rushing out the door. But nooo, he’d been too busy panicking, bickering with Endo, and letting his brother wrangle him into fancy clothes like he was some kind of dress-up doll.

Tsubaki tilted his head, fingers tapping lightly against his chin. “At the ‘thank you’ party… we all exchanged numbers and grew really close. Even some of the boys from my team told me they got invited, too!”

“Yay! It’s Ume-chan!!”

The familiar, high-energy voice cut through the air, and before anyone could react, Tomiyama came bouncing over again like an overexcited puppy. He practically launched himself at Umemiya, palm raised. “Ume-chan, Ume-chan! Welcome!” he sang, beaming.

Umemiya laughed and returned the high-five without missing a beat. “Yo! Tomiyama!”

“Thanks for inviting us!” Tsubaki added warmly.

“You’re welcome!” Tomiyama chirped. “Ume-chan, check out the shooting gallery! Let’s see which one of us can win the most prizes!” Without another word, the smaller teen latched onto Umemiya’s arm and immediately began dragging him off- exactly like he’d done to Sakura earlier.

“Sure, let’s do it! See you guys around!” Umemiya called over his shoulder, laughing as he was led away.

The group watched as the trio got spirited away into the sea of stalls. Nirei chuckled behind his hand. “Tomiyama-san’s always sweeping people away like a hurricane.”

Sakura blinked after them, still mildly overwhelmed by the sheer social energy assaulting him from all sides. Was this what normal people dealt with during festivals? No wonder Chika and Endo had been so hesitant- 

Before he could retreat into his thoughts again, he felt two hands latch onto his sleeves and tug.

Kiryu leaned in. “Hey, so-”

“Yeah-” Nirei added from the other side.

And then, in perfect, suspiciously coordinated unison: “Let’s go look around too!”

Sakura barely had time to react before he was being hauled forward by his grinning friends, dragged into the cheerful chaos of the summer festival whether he liked it or not.

-o-O-o-

They tried just about everything the stalls had to offer- foods Sakura had never even seen before, let alone tasted. He was quietly grateful for Endo’s insistence on giving him money, allowing him to ‘go all out’ for once.  

They stuffed themselves with skewers, dumplings, and sweets, tried their hand at the shooting gallery (Sakura learned that while holding a rifle was weird, he was oddly good at it), fumbled their way through the goldfish scooping game, where they stumbled into some classmates, and tested their luck at a lottery booth.

It was fun. Real fun.

With nothing to compare it to, this first festival of his became something etched in bright colors- noise and light and warmth.

Eventually, they circled back to Togame’s yakisoba stall, catching him just as he was being thanked by another staff member for all the help. So lost in thought, he almost didn’t notice them approaching. The staff member then handed off six yakisoba boxes- one for each of them- as a small apology for keeping Togame from his guests for so long.

The group gratefully accepted.

But then, rather suddenly, the others excused themselves.

“We’re gonna look around the other stands a little more,” Nirei said brightly, though the glance he shot at Sakura was telling.

Togame and Sakura exchanged a look, confused, until Nirei added that the two of them probably had a lot to catch up on. It wasn’t like they’d had much time alone, after all. Then the group wandered off, Suo mentioning something about wanting to check out the haunted house, to which Tsugeura responded with a very undignified yelp.

…And that’s how Sakura now found himself sitting in a nearby park just off the main street, perched on a quiet bench with Togame to his left.

Togame held out both their yakisoba boxes, smiling as he passed one over. “How were all the stands? Did you have fun?”

Glancing up, Sakura nodded. “Y-Yeah.” He accepted the warm yakisoba box Togame held out to him, the scent hitting him full-force. His stomach gave an embarrassing rumble. All that walking had definitely worked up his appetite again.

Togame relaxed beside him with a content sigh. “Festivals sure are nice. Even a plain box of fried noodles can feel so special.”

Sakura could only agree, the scent alone already making his mouth water. He stared down at the box in his hands, fingertips warming against the plastic container. It was strangely comforting.

“So…” Togame began, voice softer now. “Back when I was around sixth grade, my gramps took me in.”

The bi-colored teen paused, hands still mid-motion as he opened the lid. He blinked up at Togame, brows lightly furrowed- but said nothing, sensing this wasn’t the kind of thing he should interrupt.

“Because of his connections,” Togame continued, gaze distant, “I was allowed to help out with all kinds of stands. And even to this day, I’m still helping out wherever they need it.”

Sakura hummed faintly in response, his expression relaxing. That explained a lot- why Togame had been so natural with the staff, why he’d ended up manning the grill without hesitation. It wasn’t just helpfulness. It was… history.

“It’s also the reason I joined Shishitoren,” Togame added with a small laugh. “The guys were messing with us when we were preparing for the festival. So I smacked them all down and beat them to a pulp.”

He blinked, as if realizing he’d wandered into old memories, then glanced back down at Sakura with a calm, fond smile.

“To me, festivals are where we can connect to other people. But… I never imagined we’d connect with Furin like this. Who would’ve thought we’d all get to enjoy the festival together…? And it’s all thanks to you, Sakura.”

‘Oh.’

The words hit harder than expected.

Sakura jerked, gaping at Togame with wide mismatched eyes, but the weight of that gentle, sincere smile made him turn away just as quickly. God. Why was it always the nice ones who said stuff like that?

He could feel the heat rising up his neck, ears burning, and silently cursed the golden-orange tint of the sunset for not being strong enough to hide it. Desperate to redirect the attention, he snapped his wooden chopsticks apart- using his teeth, of course- and jabbed them straight into the noodles.

“I-I didn’t do anythin’!” he barked defensively, his voice wobbling. And before he could embarrass himself any further, he stuffed a mouthful of yakisoba into his mouth, fumbling slightly with the chopsticks but managing thanks to Endo’s teachings.

He froze.

Then gasped around a mouthful of noodles. “Oh, this is good!” he muffled, wide-eyed and uncaring about his manners in the slightest.

Beside him, Togame laughed, warm and genuine. “Glad to hear it!”

Previous embarrassment forgotten (or at least temporarily buried under a pile of delicious noodles), Sakura looked up at the taller man with mild curiosity. “Are you always cookin’ up fried noodles for these festivals?”

Togame leaned back slightly, chopsticks already in hand, the last flickers of laughter still warming his voice. “Not always. Depends on who needs my help… Takoyaki, Taiyaki, shaved ice- I’ve done it all.”

He chuckled as he turned his attention to his own food, casually lifting the chopsticks and-

Gone.

Sakura blinked. The box in Togame’s lap was already empty.

“Phew,” the man sighed, looking pleased.

The bi-colored teen stared, horrified. “Wh- What the hell was that?! Didja just inhale all that food?!”

Togame offered a sheepish smile, scratching his cheek with one hand. “Oh, lots of people tell me that I’ve got a huge mouth. I can gulp down food in one bite.”

Still stunned, Sakura deadpanned, “That’s beyond huge, dude…”

Without missing a beat, Togame smirked faintly, brushing a stray bit of vegetable from the corner of his mouth with deliberate calm. “I might’ve lost in a fight. But I know I can beat you in an eating competition.”

The confidence in his voice was so casual, so smug, that Sakura felt his eye twitch.

He tightened his grip on his own yakisoba box, flaring up with indignant energy. “Y-Yeah right! Last time, you were the one who purposefully-”

But Togame shook his head, unmoved. “Nah, a win’s a win.”

Sakura let out an aggravated hiss, shoulders stiff as he clutched his chopsticks like they were a weapon. “B-But anyways! I can eat a lot too!”

The taller man tilted his head slightly, amused. “Oh, yeah? Then we should see who can eat more.”

The teen bristled. “Bring it!!”

But before he could launch into a full retort, the sound of approaching footsteps made both of them pause.

“Huh… Hey, Jo.”

Togame blinked, then turned his head toward the new voice. “Ah! Wanijima!” he greeted, lifting a hand in acknowledgment.

Sakura’s mismatched eyes narrowed slightly as he studied the stranger now standing a few steps from their bench. Shaggy, neck-length hair. A white t-shirt half-tucked into simple slacks, a blazer thrown over top like an afterthought. Chains, earrings, piercings… and oddly slitted pupils that caught the faint light as he looked over at them.

He tensed- but not because of the man in front of him.

Something clicked then, belated but unmistakable.

That strange tingling at the back of his neck- he’d felt it for a while now. At first, he’d chalked it up to nerves, maybe the leftover adrenaline from being pulled through the crowd by Choji or eating too fast. But no… this wasn’t that. 

It had started after he’d split from his group. When he was walking through the stalls, just him and Togame. That crawling sensation, barely noticeable at first, had crept steadily upward, like an itch buried under the skin.

Like eyes on his back. Only now did it register for what it truly was.

He was being watched.

But not by Wanijima- no. The guy’s presence was odd, sure, and intense in the way some people naturally were, but it didn’t weigh on him. Didn’t press. There was no chill, no threat, no hidden charge behind those eyes.

So then who-?

“You’re not with Choji and the rest of Shishitoren?” Wanijima asked, cutting clean through his thoughts.

Sakura blinked, jolting slightly.

Togame, ever unfazed, answered calmly, “Choji ran off with Umemiya and his friends.”

Wanijima’s gaze lingered on Sakura for a beat too long, unreadable. That familiar prickling edged up his spine again- but this time, Sakura was sure of it. It wasn’t coming from this guy.

Still… someone was watching.

And not from up close.

Before he could think more about it, Wanijima smiled and said, “I see. So you’re Sakura.”

Caught off-guard, Sakura instinctively squared his shoulders, confused but bracing himself. There was a weight to that gaze- and it wasn’t threatening, but it was focused. Measured. Like the man already had some kind of opinion of him.

What Wanijima said next nearly made him fumble his entire box of noodles.

“You really do… have a good face.”

He jolted backward so hard he nearly fell off the bench. “Wh- What about my face, huh?!” he hissed, ears already burning, posture puffing up like a feral cat ready to swing. The sheer randomness of the compliment short-circuited his brain.

Togame calmly reached over and placed a firm hand on his shoulder, silently reminding him not to launch himself into orbit. “There, there. Wanijima, come sit.”

“Sure,” the man said, unfazed, and dropped down on the other side of Togame without missing a beat. He sat with the relaxed confidence of someone perfectly at ease with throwing people off and watching the aftermath unfold.

“You see… Jo told me a lot about you.”

Sakura froze. ‘Huh?! Togame talked about me?! Why?’

Wanijima continued without pause, chin propped on one hand, his tone unreadably casual. “He has never talked so much about someone- aside from Choji, that is.”

‘Oh, okay, cool, what the hell- ’ Sakura blinked rapidly, stunned into silence.

“You made a deep impression on Jo. I knew you’d have some pretty striking expressions to do that.”

‘Striking expressions?! ’ That made even less sense. How the hell was he supposed to respond to that? Where was this coming from?!

“Please…” Wanijima leaned forward slightly, gaze now level across Togame’s shoulder. “Stay good friends with Jo, okay?”

Sakura felt his entire soul short-circuit.

Good friends?!

He was going to combust. Right here. Right now. His face flushed so violently he thought it might burn a hole through the ground. He frantically turned his gaze away, focusing on anything else before he exploded from sheer mortification.

“F-F-F-Friends…?” he choked out, voice cracking like thin ice.

Get it together! This isn’t worse than Endo’s teasing! It’s just some random stranger that’s apparently a friend of your one-time enemy, now an ally, saying weird things! You’ve had worse!

“A-...Anyways!” he snapped, desperate to reroute. “Who are you?”

There was a beat of silence.

Both Togame and Wanijima blinked at him in unison.

“…Oh,” Togame said, as if the question had only just registered.

“Ah?” Wanijima echoed, equally unbothered.

‘What- ’

Before Sakura could demand a real answer, a familiar voice cut through the moment like a cannonball into a still pond.

“Oh hey! Wani-chan’s here, too!!!”

Chapter Text

“Oh hey! Wani-chan’s here, too!! We’re baaack!”

The familiar voice rang out loudly, making Sakura flinch slightly before instinctively twisting around toward the source just in time to catch a flash of beige hurtling in their direction.

“Woah-” His breath hitched. “Holy sh–”

A veritable flood of people spilled in from the main street.

Tomiyama Choji led the pack like a caffeine-fueled tour guide, bounding forward with enough energy to light up the night. His grin stretched ear to ear, waving like his arm might pop off if he didn’t slow down. Behind him? Practically half the damn school- or at least that’s how it felt . Faces from Furin, Shishitoren, and even a few others Sakura barely recognized blurred together in a vibrant mass of yukatas, laughter, and glowing lantern light.

Umemiya strode forward at a relaxed pace, radiating the kind of ease only someone like him could. “Wanijima!” he called, raising a hand. 

With a fluid motion, Wanijima rose from the bench beside Togame and dipped his chin in polite acknowledgment. “Umemiya.” The greeting was brief but familiar. Comfortable, even.

Meanwhile, Tomiyama skipped past the bench with his usual lack of restraint and all but tossed something into Togame’s waiting hands- his signature orange team jacket. “Here ya go!” the shorter teen beamed, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“Thanks,” Togame replied softly, brushing off the sleeves with practiced ease before folding it over his arm.

Sakura blinked slowly, head swiveling between the two of them, still catching up. “Wanijima?” he murmured, brow furrowed.

Tomiyama perked up like he’d been waiting for that exact cue, eyes sparkling as he spun on his heel. “Remember the party? I said that our mighty reliable friend’s back!”

Oh right. Sakura did vaguely remember something like that, lost in the whirlwind of that post-conflict celebration.

Tomiyama then bounced back toward Wanijima with enough enthusiasm to make Sakura flinch, and started smacking the man repeatedly on the chest- far too hard for how friendly it looked. “And that guy is Wani-chan!!”

Wanijima didn’t even blink. “Choji… You’re slapping a bit too hard.”

Sakura stared. The man sounded more exasperated than actually bothered.

“Anyway-” Wanijima turned his attention to the teen now eyeing him with cautious curiosity. “I’m Wanijima. I recently came back to the team. It’s nice to meet you.”

“U-Uh… Hi…” Sakura nodded back almost shyly. His posture tightened a little, still half-tensed from before, but Wanijima didn’t seem threatening. Just… impossible to read. Smooth around the edges in that unnerving adult way that made it hard to tell where someone stood.

But as Sakura glanced past him, he caught the tail end of someone proudly exclaiming nearby- “After Togame and Tomiyama, Wanijima is the next strongest on our team.”

His gaze snapped back. That… explained a lot. So this guy was third strongest in Shishitoren?

Sakura’s fingers flexed where they rested near his half-eaten box of yakisoba. No wonder his presence felt so composed. That kind of confidence didn’t come from nowhere. ‘…Would I be able to beat him in a fight…?’  

“This sure brings me back!” Umemiya’s voice cut through his thoughts, making his attention snap back towards him. Their leader strode up and flung an arm around Wanijima’s shoulders with ease, his grin wide and nostalgic. “I haven’t seen this guy since that fight in our first year! You were so strong back then!”

Wanijima, ever cool, just shrugged. “Not as strong as you. You were the best fighter at the time.”

From somewhere just behind, Nirei piped up in a whisper: “Even his responses are so adult-like!” Sakura couldn’t help but agree. Wanijima didn’t act like the rest of Shishitoren’s wild bunch- or even Furin’s more boisterous members. There was something quiet and unshakable about him- but overall, he seemed like an okay guy. 

Still, Sakura couldn’t fully relax- not with that itching sense still buzzing along the back of his neck like static clinging to his skin.

Mismatched eyes flicked around again. It wasn’t obvious, whoever it was. No one was staring outright. Just movement, too much movement. Familiar and unfamiliar faces blurred together.

His hand came up, rubbing at the back of his neck with a frustrated huff. Maybe if he just stood up, joined the rest of the group, it’d go away. Focus on what’s in front of you. His fingers curled slightly around the now-empty noodle box resting in his lap. Focus.

He tuned back in just in time to catch the tail end of whatever conversation had shifted among the others. From the exasperated looks and casual scolding, it sounded like they were reprimanding Wanijima… something about getting hospitalized?

“I see. You have your fair share of troubles too, huh?” Umemiya chuckled, folding his arms.

“Not really,” Wanijima replied with a calm smile. “Not when Choji and Jo are working so hard.” He placed a hand on both their shoulders. “It’s… fulfilling to be with them. Shishitoren has become a great team. One that’s even better- far better than it was before. And that’s…”

His gaze swept out toward the group now gathered in an uneven cluster, his tone soft but firm. “Thanks to you, Umemiya. And Sakura… you made this happen too. So thank you.”

With that, Wanijima bowed.

Sakura blinked.

‘H-Huh?’

The motion caught him off guard more than the words did- so much so that his legs nearly twitched to stand in response. But he stayed seated, staring up at the pierced man with visible alarm. What the hell was he supposed to do with that?

“I hope… we can be friends as well from now on.”

Togame, still comfortably seated to his left, cracked open one eye with a lazy, content smile- like this had all played out exactly as expected. And Sakura, red creeping up the back of his neck like a sunburn, scowled.

Umemiya leaned back with a laugh, “Heh heh! Of course.” While Sakura nearly bared his teeth in a hiss. “...J-Just drop it already!”

Nirei’s voice jumped in with a panicked edge, waving his hands. “Sakura-san! Don’t act like that!!” Beside him, Suo simply chuckled, serene as ever. “You mean, ‘Yes, let’s be friends.’”

“Shaddup!” Sakura snapped, flushed right up to his ears now.

God. He was getting tired. His social battery was gone. Toasted. Burned to ash. Could he go home now? …And could whoever the hell was watching him from the shadows just fuck off already?

“Ah, shoot. Hey guys.” Another voice cut through Sakura’s brooding spiral like a record scratch. “We should start makin’ our way back to the cage. You guys still wanna check out the stands on the way and stuff, right?” It was that side-shaved blonde guy from Shishitoren- Sakura couldn’t remember his name.

Beside him, Togame straightened from his lazy slouch. “Oh. It’s already getting late, huh?”

Sakura blinked, turning to him. “Wuh? Oh… You’re leaving already?” There was a slight drop in his voice- disappointment slipping through before he could catch it. But Togame just shook his head, offering a soft smile. “Oops, did I not mention? There’s gonna be fireworks. A full display in the sky.”

Right. Sakura vaguely recalled that from their phone call, buried under the flurry of everything else that had happened since…

“You can get a great view from the cage,” Togame added. “So you guys should come with us.”

“O-oh, okay.” His voice came out a bit more breathless than expected. Fireworks. An actual, proper firework show. His chest gave a subtle thump of anticipation. It would be his first one.

Sure, there had been fireworks during that mess with Noroshi- but those had been background noise to fists flying and battle cries. He hadn’t had time to look up, let alone admire anything.

So, when the group began to move, he rose from the bench without hesitation and quickly threw the empty plastic box into a nearby bin before drifting into step with the tide of students and Shishitoren members making their way through the glowing market streets.

He naturally found himself alongside Nirei, Suo, Kiryu, and Tsugeura- his circle orbiting him like it always had. Their voices were light, recounting the stalls they’d checked out while he’d been tied up with Togame and Wanijima. He let their rhythm carry him, half-listening, half-watching the world blur by.

They passed musical performances on makeshift stages, bursts of laughter spilling from crowds clustered around games or street performers. Strings of lanterns bobbed gently in the night breeze, painting everything in soft reds and golds.

Eventually, the group turned off the main road, cutting through narrower side streets and back alleys to shortcut their way toward the Cage. The chatter among them had quieted to soft conversation and idle laughter.

That was when it hit Sakura again.

The tingling. Sharper this time. Like a prickle of static brushing along the back of his neck- no longer subtle. His skin twitched with it. 

Whoever had been watching him hadn’t stopped. If anything… they were getting closer.

His steps slowed ever so slightly, a calculated lag just enough to drift to the rear of the crowd without drawing attention. His friends stayed ahead, unaware- still caught up in the festival’s fading glow. He didn’t want to alarm them. Didn’t want to make a big deal out of nothing.

But his mismatched eyes flicked to the alley walls and rooftops, gaze slicing through shadow and lantern light.

Nothing obvious. No sudden movements. Just-

A flicker.

The barest flash of red-gold.

His breath caught in his throat.

There- just on the edge of his vision- two silhouettes. Endo, leaned casually against the brick. Chika, ghost-quiet beside him. Teal and gold eyes met his, unreadable in the dark- but familiar. Solid.

A silent nod passed between them before they vanished again into the alley’s edge, like they’d never been there.

What. The. Hell?!

The bi-colored teen’s shoulders dropped with a sigh as the tension drained out of him all at once.

Seriously? They were the ones tailing him? Since when?! Was this about earlier? Were they still worried he was going to spiral again?

“I’m fine, dammit,” he muttered under his breath, exasperated, fingers digging into his yukata as he tugged out his phone with the other hand. He was halfway through angrily unlocking it to text Endo something appropriately venomous when-

“Everything okay?”

He jumped.

Togame had peeked back around the corner, head tilted slightly, green eyes flicking over him in that gentle but perceptive way of his. “You fell behind,” he said. “Something wrong?”

Sakura blinked, caught red-handed mid-glare at his phone.

“...No,” he muttered, quickly stuffing it away again. “It’s nothing. Just thought I saw something.”

Togame studied him for a moment longer, brow lifted in quiet amusement- but didn’t press. “If you’re sure… C’mon. Let’s not keep the others waiting.”

With that, their footsteps fell into rhythm again, the festival noise gradually fading behind them until they reached the Cage- Shishitoren’s base, lit in the faint neon haze of the city and the soft flicker of rooftop lanterns.

The others had already gathered near the stairwell, laughing and jostling one another while picking out drinks from a cooler someone had brought up. A few cans hissed open, the fizz of carbonation punctuating the low murmur of voices.

Sakura stepped up and grabbed a bottle of ramune, the cold glass a relief against his warm fingers. With practiced ease- just like Togame had shown him- he popped the marble into the bottle with a satisfying clink. The drink hissed softly, and he took a small sip as he pulled out his phone again, quickly typing out a blunt message:

>Sakura: STOP STALKING ME. I’M FINE!!

>Sakura: AND DON'T YOU DARE LET ANYONE SEE YOU 

He hit send, then tucked the device back into the folds of his yukata just as-

BANG!

The sky lit up with an explosive bloom of color.

Sakura flinched, startled, and turned toward the sound- just in time to see a second firework erupt, scattering brilliant greens and golds across the night sky. His breath caught.

It really was… beautiful.

The rooftop offered a perfect view. High above the rest of the town, away from the crowd, the entire skyline stretched out before them- open and alive. More fireworks followed, each one bigger and brighter than the last, painting the air in dazzling bursts of pink, blue, violet, and red.

The crowd of Shishitoren and Furin ooh’d and aah’d at the pretty display, the sound rising and falling with each shimmering burst. Someone gasped as a firework shaped like a flower exploded over the rooftops, its petals glowing a vibrant gold. The cheers were loud, unfiltered, and full of life.

Sakura stood amid it all, breath caught in his throat.

It was beautiful. Too much so.

“Quite the view, right?” Togame’s voice came gently from his right, a low murmur nearly lost beneath the crackling sky.

Startled, Sakura glanced up at him- then back out toward the horizon, where another firework bloomed, red streaks arcing through navy clouds. “Wow. My whole body’s shakin’ from the sounds,” he admitted, awe trickling into his voice.

Togame smiled, eyes squinting. “Try taking a deep breath. It’ll shake you up even more.”

The teen obeyed without thinking, drawing in a lungful of night air thick with smoke and summer heat- only to blink in surprise as another firework boomed directly above, the tremor rippling right through his ribs.

“Woah! You’re right!” he exclaimed, mismatched eyes wide.

“Sounds are just waves and trembles in the air, after all.” The taller man explained before chuckling lightly.

Sakura glanced at him, brows pulling together as he observed the shift in the other’s expression. “...What’re you smilin’ about?”

Togame looked out toward the sky, face lit by the flickering bursts. “Just… it’s nice when everyone’s looking at the same thing,” he said softly. “It’s not like fireworks change when you look at them alone or with a group. But it’s nice to get to see them with everyone, you know?”

Sakura turned back to the sky, quiet again. His chest ached faintly, the cold of the ramune bottle still lingering in his palm. “Yeah… I guess so,” he mumbled.

Because he did know.

He remembered all the times he’d watched the sky by himself after escaping. All those nights holed up on rooftops or hidden in alleyways, drifting with the wind and never really seeing anything. Back then, the sky had felt too big. Too empty. And now-

Now there were voices beside him. People standing close enough that their shoulders brushed his, warm with laughter and comfort and careless ease. Something heavy and fragile lodged in his throat.

To go back to those nights alone…

He would rather be de–

“By the way,” Togame interrupted, voice cutting clean through the spiral of thought. “There were fireworks at the last war,” he hummed, voice thoughtful, green eyes fixed on the sky.

Sakura blinked slowly. “Hm? Oh…” His voice trailed, quiet. Right- the ones he thought about earlier. 

But Togame went on, “It was… amazing. You were amazing.”

The teen jerked at the compliment, lips pulling into a frown as he brought the ramune bottle back to his mouth. The carbonation had gone a little flat, but the bitterness in his chest tasted stronger. “But I still needed you to save our asses.”

That drew a pause. From the corner of his eye, he saw Togame’s easy posture stiffen slightly. “Come on,” the man murmured, brows tugging together in faint frustration. “I was just paying you back…”

“Doesn’t change the fact,” Sakura replied, jaw tightening around the words. He didn’t look over. Couldn’t. He knew the frown that was probably on Togame’s face right now- soft but disappointed, like he couldn’t understand why Sakura had to tear himself down.

A sigh slipped from Togame’s lips, nearly drowned out by the boom overhead. “Jeez…” he mumbled, almost to himself. “But still… that Endo guy…”

Sakura’s grip on the ramune bottle tightened instinctively. The cool glass bit into his palm, grounding him, but his heartbeat stuttered- not much, just enough to feel it.

“Even I thought he was a real monster,” Togame continued, casually, as if recounting the weather. He either hadn’t noticed Sakura’s slight flinch… or had chosen not to mention it. “But you had such a vicious fight with him and didn’t lose. I knew you’d keep improving… but you’re getting really strong.”

The words struck like an unexpected match. Something small and hot lit up in his chest, curling beneath his ribs.

Sakura had been working hard.

Training with Endo- sweat-soaked evenings, bruises on his knuckles, lungs burning- and with his brother, too. Their methods were harsh, their expectations high, but he pushed through- it was all on his request. He’d been trying to engrain everything- every stance, every shift, every lesson- deep into his muscles. Not just for himself.

But to protect the people around him.

A brilliant spark shot up into the sky ahead of them, exploding into a burst of blue and white. His gaze followed it instinctively, head tilted back… but it was Togame’s next words that made his chest go still.

“Back then I thought that maybe…” the older man said, voice gentle, almost contemplative. “Sakura… you’re going to become the top of Furin one day.”

There was a sharp bang. The sky trembled. So did the air.

But Sakura didn’t look up.

His head snapped sideways instead, mismatched eyes locking on Togame’s profile- shocked. Blank. Unseeing. He stood completely still, expression stuck somewhere between disbelief and panic, like someone had cracked the floor under his feet.

Top of Furin…?

That was what Nirei and the others had said, too. That they’d carry him all the way to the top. That they believed in him, wholeheartedly. And now Togame- who barely knew him, who’d only met him through chance and circumstance- was saying the same?

The thought staggered him. It hurt in the strangest way.

He was at a loss for words.

How could they trust him with something like that? Especially Togame. How could he see him as someone worthy of leading Furin- when Sakura could barely stand under the weight of his own name?

He wasn’t like Umemiya. Not even close. And Chika… Chika had always been so much stronger. Better. Cleaner in his movements. Colder and more calculated in the ways that counted.

Meanwhile, he-  He’d cowered. Collapsed.

Passed out just at the sight of that damned logo. Haunted by memories of his past.

The glass of the ramune bottle creaked beneath his hand, knuckles tight, his fingers trembling faintly as the pressure grew. He didn’t notice. Couldn’t. His thoughts were falling fast, down and down and down-

Did he really deserve this?

‘You deserve this.’ Endo’s voice echoed. Clear. Steady. Familiar.

But did he?

‘The man seated at the very spot I want to reach… is beyond amazing. I’m so far from reaching him… so… tremendously far.’

The image flared- Umemiya locked in that fierce clash with Chika, the force of it shaking the ground itself. They were titans. Living proof of strength. If he was someone deserving of the top spot…

Then what the hell did that make him?

Sakura didn’t fit. Didn’t belong. Not there. Not yet. Not until he was strong enough.

Strong enough to protect. To carry- Just like Umemiya. To not cave beneath the weight of those suffocating memories. To not wake up gasping from nightmares he couldn’t outrun-

“Sakura?”

The voice snapped through the spiral like a wire pulled taut. He flinched, blinking hard as he jerked back to the present. The ramune bottle ached in his grip, the plastic warped from how tightly he’d been holding it. He focused on that. The sharp pain in his palm. The cold bite of condensation against his skin.

It helped. A little.

Togame stood beside him, one hand rubbing the back of his neck, his smile gone, concern in his green eyes. “Sorry… Was I being too nosy?”

That pulled him all the way back. His chest ached with guilt. Togame hadn’t said anything wrong- hadn’t meant anything but kindness. “Oh! Uh… No.” He fumbled for the words, scrambling to recover. “It’s not that. You… didn’t say anything wrong-”

He dug his hand into his hair, fingers rough as they tangled through black and white strands. He let out a sharp exhale, frustrated with himself. Great. Just fantastic. Ruin a perfectly good moment by going all quiet and weird. Nice job, idiot.

“Hey… Sakuraaa.” Togame’s voice was light, but gentler this time- like he was testing the ground before stepping. “You have the Furin boys on your side. And it looks like you all get along, too. But sometimes… it might be hard to talk openly about certain things because you’re so close.”

Sakura blinked, lips parted faintly, but said nothing. The words landed. Maybe a little too cleanly.

“If you ever feel that way…” Togame went on, tilting his head with a lopsided smile. “Then come see me. I’ll listen to anything you gotta say.” He pointed at himself, grin widening. “I’m an outsider. And what’s more… I’m your friend.”

Oh. 

Something flickered in his chest- quiet, almost painful. He was tired. So tired of hiding, of keeping everything sealed behind tight smiles and deflections. It was survival. That was what he’d told himself over and over.

But maybe…Maybe letting a little slip wouldn’t kill him.

“I…” he began, the word catching slightly in his throat. His gaze didn’t lift. “I came to Furin so I could take down their boss and conquer the school.”

The words spilled like water from a full glass, heavy but steady.

“But… to be the top, you have to have something you want to achieve. And only those who will always win, no matter who they fight… can become the leader.” His voice tightened around the end of that sentence. That was what he’d learned from watching Umemiya. What he saw reflected in Endo. And what he- still- couldn’t reach.

He grit his molars, frustration flaring under his ribs. “Damn it. I don’t know what I have to do to be just like Umemiya.”

His fists clenched around the empty bottle, fingers trembling. “Just gettin’ stronger is probably not the right answer,” he admitted. Bitterly. “And even if I have something I wanna do…”

But he didn’t get to finish.

Togame laughed.

It was so unexpected that Sakura jolted- his thoughts skidding to a halt. He stared, mouth ajar, blinking rapidly like his brain had blue-screened. “Wh–… Wh–? Wh–…?!” The words sputtered out, tangled in offense and embarrassment and a whole cocktail of emotions he didn’t have the capacity to name right now.

Was this some kind of joke to him?!

“Oh, sorry Sakura.” Togame caught his expression and winced a little. “I just thought, wow. That’s one big problem you’re facing.”

The way he said it- so casually, like it was obvious- nearly made Sakura short-circuit.

“You asshole–… I’m bein’ serious here…” he hissed, nearly trembling from exhaustion and rising irritation.

“Hey, I’m not making fun of you,” Togame replied, his tone mild, even calm. He lifted his own bottle of ramune and took a sip before continuing. “Umemiya… is a really, really strong man. At least he is to me, an outsider.” His voice was calm, reflective. “So the guys watching him from the inside must really feel it in their bones. I don’t think people would normally worry about becoming just like him or failing to imitate him.”

Sakura’s gaze stayed locked on the tips of his feet, covered by the hem of his yukata. The fabric still felt too big on him- like he was wearing a version of himself that didn’t quite fit. His lips pressed into a thin line.

“But… Sakura.” Togame’s voice shifted, gentler. “That’s something that you do. That’s why I said this is one big problem.”

He knew that. Of course he knew that. His jaw clenched. The words came out through gritted teeth. “What’s wrong with that, huh?”

Togame didn’t flinch at the defensive tone. “Nothing’s wrong with it. It’s just so you to be worried about that!”

That caught him off guard. Sakura squinted up at him, suspicious. “What the heck does that mean?” His fingers fidgeted restlessly with his sleeves, tracing the golden stitching he hadn’t even noticed earlier.

But Togame didn’t answer the question.

“Listen… this is just how I feel, but…” He paused, studying Sakura’s face. “I’m not sure if you really have to become just like Umemiya.”

Sakura blinked, confusion rippling across his face. “What?” The idea didn’t compute. Wasn’t that the whole point? Wasn’t that what everyone admired about Furin’s current leader? His strength, his charisma, the way he inspired others? Why shouldn’t he strive for that?

A brilliant burst of gold and blue lit up the sky, fireworks exploding overhead. It painted their faces in light- like some celestial spotlight catching them mid-conversation.

Togame didn’t miss a beat. “Did you know? The Ume flower- plum blossoms- bloom earlier than most flowers. They blossom in the snow and lead winter into spring.”

Sakura stared, dual-colored eyebrows twitching down in puzzled focus.

“But… Sakura flowers- cherry blossoms- they burst into full bloom in spring. It practically symbolizes spring while it blossoms along with all the other flowers.”

Wait- was he comparing him to flowers now? He already heard enough about that from Endo-

“Cherry blossoms won’t bloom when there’s still snow. But when it’s too warm, plum blossoms will wither.” His green eyes locked onto Sakura’s, unwavering. “A Sakura… can never become an Ume.”

More fireworks erupted, crackling through the night sky in brilliant succession. The golden sparks mirrored in his eyes. “And there’s no need for it to change, either. That’s because a Sakura is its own being.”

Sakura stood frozen.

A prickle built behind his mismatched eyes, creeping in too fast for him to manage. His breath caught in his throat, held back by the same stubborn wall that had kept everything else locked down inside him for so long.

Why?

Why did that hit so hard?

Togame wasn’t done. “Besides, how I see it- you have your own strengths, different from Umemiya’s. That’s why you can be your own version of Furin’s leader.”

Sakura’s vision blurred for a second- not from tears, but from the sheer weight of those words. He bit down on the inside of his already abused cheek, steadying himself.

“You don’t need to think about what you want to do or what’ll happen after you claim the top seat,” The taller man went on. “You can start here. By thinking about what you want to do right now.”

Right now…

Sakura turned his head away, unable to meet those clear, kind green eyes anymore.

“What I… want to do…” he echoed under his breath, the words low and lost. His thoughts spun, tangled and frayed, crashing into the question like waves against stone.

Could he really start from there?

Could that be enough?

Togame’s voice broke through the haze again, soft and steady. “Do you have a wish? Or a dream?”

Sakura repeated it, barely above a whisper. “A wish… or a dream…”

His grip loosened on the ramune bottle, hand finally unclenching. The glass didn’t bite into his skin anymore.

His thoughts drifted- not in that suffocating way they usually did, but in something gentler. Warmer. Faces flickered behind his eyes. Nirei’s grin, Suo’s quiet strength, Tsugeura’s boisterous presence. Kiryu’s trust, Endo’s infuriating but heartfelt honesty, Chika’s silent support. The way they all welcomed him.

Laughed with him.

Believed in him.

His chest clenched as memories overlapped- the soft gifts pressed into his hands from Makochi locals, shy thank-you’s, smiles from people he thought would never accept him. The chatter of his classmates, their easy banter, their refusal to treat him like he didn’t belong.

He had a place here.

A real one.

And yet- he kept wanting to run. Kept hiding things. He hadn’t told his friends- Not about Endo. Not about Chika. Not about the place he would soon call home.

His breath hitched, jaw trembling as the realization sank in like lead.

They loved him.

They wanted him to stay.

And he was still holding part of himself back from them.

He clenched his teeth, hard, as guilt twisted like barbed wire in his chest. His lip wobbled without permission. The sting behind his eyes built and spread. They would understand, wouldn’t they? Of course they would. He knew that deep down.

So why was it still so hard? Kiryu already knew, so why shouldn’t they? Why did he feel like he might choke on the words if he tried to say any of it?

Togame’s voice, unaware of the spiral unraveling just inches beside him, continued in a thoughtful murmur. “If you do, then maybe that can serve as a big clue to you.”

The static in Sakura’s ears swelled, but he caught the next part.

“The road to the top is probably going to be a tough one.” A pause. A firework crackled above, bathing them in red and gold. “But… you’re not going to ever ‘bend your will,’ right, Sakura?”

A trembling breath slipped past his lips before he could catch it, tight and raw. The memory hit him like a gut punch- his own voice, strained but sure, shouting those words in the middle of his desperate clash against Togame.

“I’ll never bend my will!”

And Togame… had remembered that. Despite everything- despite how chaotic Sakura’s mind had been that day, despite how far gone he'd felt- Togame hadn’t dismissed him. 

His chest felt like it might cave in from the pressure, but somehow, he forced his body to cooperate. Straightening, setting his shoulders, he managed a smirk- crooked and trembling at the edges, but still his.

“You got that right.”

Because Togame was right.

How could he have forgotten?

He was Sakura Haruka, damn it. He’d clawed his way through worse than this- kept moving forward even when it hurt like hell. Makochi had taken him in. Furin had accepted him. His friends had chosen him. Endo, Chika, Nirei, Suo, Kiryu, Tsugeura, and all the rest- every single one of them had shown him what support really meant.

And all he’d done in return was pull away, let the old fear convince him they’d turn on him if they knew more. But they hadn’t.

They wouldn’t.

So maybe… maybe it was time to stop acting like they would.

The tension in his chest began to ease, like the worst of the weight had finally cracked and started to fall away.

Togame laughed- a short, breathy sound that broke through the moment. “Besides, Sakura! You’re still in your first year. You’re getting way ahead of yourself here.”

Just like that, the peace evaporated. Sakura’s expression twisted, his face flushing bright red. “Wh- What’s wrong with thinkin’ ahead, huh?!” he barked, lips curling back like he might start baring teeth. “Tch- damn idiot…”

The other man just smiled, utterly unbothered, clearly satisfied that Sakura was back to his usual self.

Sakura puffed up for a second longer, hissing softly, before exhaling. His shoulders lowered. His guard, just a bit less tense. He found himself shifting, sandals dragging softly against the concrete as he turned.

Maybe this was what people meant when they said talking helped. As annoying as it was to admit… It really had helped. Like with Endo and Chika, after that part of his past had come up. Just telling someone- even part of it- lightened the load more than he’d thought possible...

Not everything. Not yet. He still wasn’t ready to bring up them. That logo- that group- the buyers. The memories still lodged too deep for him to claw free of cleanly.

But… someday.

Someday he’d tell Endo. Tell Chika. Tell his friends.

He’d entrust them with all of it.

Maybe.

His gaze flicked up, back to the sky. Another explosion of color lit the rooftop in soft flashes- white and blue, gold and crimson.

Yeah, Togame was right. He didn’t need to change himself. Didn’t need to mimic someone else’s greatness or copy their path. He wasn’t Umemiya. He couldn’t be. But that wasn’t the point.

“I should just do what I want in my own way,” he thought, mismatched eyes following the trails of fading light.

And somehow, that felt… okay.

Once the firework show had ended, the rooftop slowly returned to quiet. The final bursts of light faded into smoke, leaving only the dull hum of the city below and the low murmur of conversation.

Cleanup didn’t take long- just a few empty bottles, snack wrappers, and discarded festival flyers fluttering across the concrete. Shishitoren’s members moved with practiced ease, clearing the space without much prompting. Sakura helped without complaint, though his body ached and his brain felt half-melted from the sheer emotional overload of the night.

When it was all done, they filed out into the stairwell, the warmth of the rooftop still clinging faintly to their skin.

Everyone exchanged their goodbyes with easy familiarity- fist bumps, waves, and tired smiles. Even Tomiyama, still bouncing with leftover energy, gave each of them a clap on the shoulder that nearly knocked the bi-colored teen off balance.

The air had cooled just enough to be comfortable as the Furin boys made their way back through the streets of Shishitoren territory, laughter rising in the dark.

“That was quite enjoyable, don’t you think?,” Suo hummed, hands held behind his back. “Can’t remember the last time I had that much fun at a festival.”

“Right?” Nirei chimed in, adjusting his hat. “Kinda surprised you didn’t end up fighting anyone, Sakura-san. Progress!”

Sakura merely rolled his mismatched eyes, too tired to hiss properly and instead rubbed at his prickly nape. “Tch. You idiots always say the dumbest things.”

Kiryu chuckled softly from his side. “You were talking a lot with Togame though,” he added, all casual-like. Immediately, the teen flushed, snapping his head around. “Wh- What about it?! So what if I did?!”

“Don’t worry, Sakura-san!” The pink-haired teen grinned innocently. “Just saying! It looked like fun~”

“You wanna get decked?!”

They laughed, dodging the half-hearted swipe he threw at them as they entered the tunnel separating Shishitoren and Makochi. The soft echo of their voices bounced along the walls, fading as they emerged on the other side.

Eventually, Tsugeura veered off with a small wave, his house in the opposite direction. A few blocks later, Kiryu slowed. “I’ll head this way,” he said, then added in a hushed tone as he leaned closer to Sakura, “We’ll talk tomorrow. About the moving thing.”

Sakura blinked, heart skipping, but he only gave a stiff nod. “Yeah.”

Now it was just him, Nirei, and Suo walking the last stretch of street under buzzing signs and flickering lights. The sounds of the city were softer now- murmured conversation from open windows, the hum of a vending machine, a stray cicada.

Before long, they reached the familiar slumped shape of Sakura’s rundown flat. He stopped at the stairs, hesitant.

Nirei tilted his head, confused at the other's sudden hesitation. “Sakura-san? Are you okay?”

“…Yeah. Just…” Sakura turned to them, scratching at his nape. “Thanks for walking with me…” They both looked at him like they knew there was more. Expectant. Waiting.

Swallowing, he fidgeted with the edge of his yukata sleeve before blurting, “There’s something I gotta tell you guys tomorrow. After school.” 

The weight of it lingered between them for only a second before Suo nodded with a calm, easy smile. “Okay.” Meanwhile, Nirei gave a simple thumbs-up. “We’ll listen!”

“…Thanks,” Sakura muttered, barely audible.

They bid him good night and vanished into the dim street.

He stood there for a long moment, heart beating loud in the quiet. Then, with a breath, he stepped forward- toward the creaky stairs, toward the worn-down door. Hopefully for the last time.

Pulling the hidden key from the usual crack in the wall, he let himself in.

The place smelled like it always did. Old wood. Dust. Something vaguely sour. The sad little room welcomed him like a ghost clinging to his spine. He kicked off the sandals Chika had lent him, careful not to let them clatter too hard, and padded inside to grab a spare set of clothes.

Peeling off the yukata felt like shedding a different skin- soft, ceremonial, not his. He folded it carefully and placed it on the edge of his futon before dragging himself to the shower.

The water was cold. Of course it was. But it helped.

After drying off and pulling on his clothes, he padded barefoot into his room. Sparse. Quiet. His eyes swept over the few decorations, the small trinkets and mementos that marked this place as his, if only barely.

Sitting cross-legged on the mattress, he plugged in his phone. The class group chat had mostly died down- just a few scattered good nights blinking across the screen. And then his fingers hovered over Endo’s contact, brows furrowing at the six notifications. 

>Sakura: AND DON’T YOU DARE LET ANYONE SEE YOU

View new messages…

>E.Y.: Of course not, me and Takiishi are very sneaky~

>E.Y: And we had to make sure you were doin’ alright. Can’t blame us for worrying, hm?

>E.Y.: That guy's way too close to you. Tell him to back off, damn. 

>E.Y.: It’s gettin’ late, you want me to come pick you up?

>E.Y.: Ah, you’re walkin’ with your friends?

>E.Y.: Sakuraaaaa, oiii. C’monnn

His eyelid twitched. What was he- some kind of clingy ex?

Exhaling sharply through his nose, Sakura tapped out a reply, thumbs moving fast and irritated.

>Sakura: Jesus christ dude, chill. I have some things to think over.

Almost instantly, Endo’s “seen” status lit up, followed by the three dots of death. Of course. Damn stalker.

>E.Y.: There you are! I missed my pretty little blossom! 

>Sakura: Die. 

>E.Y.: So mean :( 

>Sakura: If it makes you feel better, you got the clear to get my stuff tomorrow while I’m at school

>E.Y.: Really? Wait, does that mean you’re stayin’ at the flat for tonight?

>Sakura: Yeah, kinda wanna be alone right now before I move in with you guys.

>E.Y.: Got it, I’ll tell Takiishi- we’ll be happy to have you. If ya need anythin’ else, just text me, aight?

>Sakura: Sure, night.

>E.Y.: Goodnight sweetheart! 

>Sakura: Abort yourself.

He dropped the phone beside him with a quiet thunk, sinking back onto the futon and slinging one arm across his face, ignoring the flush blooming across his cheeks.

God. He was too tired for this.

The ceiling above him was dark, and the silence was finally welcome. His thoughts turned back to the fireworks, to the weight of Togame’s words. A wish or a dream, huh…?

His fingers curled loosely against the edge of the futon. He liked Makochi. He liked this life. His friends, his school, the weird makeshift dynamic he’d ended up building with Endo and Chika. He wanted to stay. Wanted to protect it.

And tomorrow- he’d finally tell his friends. About the move. About Endo and Chika.

They deserved to know.

His body slowly relaxed, tension bleeding from his limbs. Already, he missed the spare room in Endo’s apartment- the softness of the bed, the clean smell, the safety. He shifted under the thin blanket and closed his eyes, letting sleep begin to pull him under.

Then-

Screech.

Tires.

A car door sliding open.

Low voices. Hushed. Sharp.

Sakura jolted upright. His pulse kicked. Feet hit the floor quietly as he crept across the room to the balcony, sliding the door open just enough to peer down onto the street below.

The air outside had stilled. No summer breeze. Just… Figures. Moving. Familiar.

Too familiar.

A flash of silver-

His fingers gripped the edge of the glass door too tightly, his nape tingling- no, itching. His phone buzzed faintly from behind him, but he was already reaching for it, screen lighting up before his thumb could even tap.

Endo’s name hovered beneath his trembling fingertips-

They were here.

That group.

That logo.

They’d found him.

And he was in danger.

Chapter Text

His heart was a hammer lodged behind his ribs, battering, battering, battering.

It hurt. Everything hurt. His lungs burned. His stomach twisted like someone had shoved their hand inside and pulled. The silence in his apartment wasn’t silence anymore- it was the death rattle before the storm.

They were here.

Sakura stumbled backward, bare feet scraping over warped floorboards, every shadow at the edge of his vision a threat. “Shit- fuck- no, no no no-” The words tumbled out too fast, too soft, breaking into a whispering sob as his back slammed into the divider. 

Mismatched eyes scanned the room like a caged animal- looking for something, anything to block the front door with. But there was nothing, only the gifts his friends had left him. 

His breath hitched. The walls tilted. He was going to vomit.

Gripping his phone tighter- white-knuckled from how hard he was clutching it- Sakura fumbled his thumb over the screen, vision blurring as he stabbed at Endo’s contact. The call connected.

It rang once.

Then again.

Then- click.

“Sakura?” Endo’s voice came through groggy, low, touched with the edge of sleep. “Didya forget somethin’-?”

“Please-” The word shattered out of him. The teen’s voice cracked, trembling, torn between breath and sound. “Please- help me. They’re- They’re here- Endo, please-!” His chest heaved, lungs burning, his voice dissolving into a gasping whimper as he slid down the divider like a puppet with its strings cut.

Endo didn’t even know what he was talking about- yet here he was, babbling mindlessly as fear overtook his mind, raking its claws deeper and deeper- 

“I can’t do this- I can’t-”

His muscles twitched violently under his skin, trying to summon every technique, every strike, every evasive step Endo and Chika had ever taught him. But it wasn’t enough. His body remembered too much- too much pain, too much helplessness. The air felt like fire and tar in his throat, refusing to go down cleanly. Every second felt like an hour.

And beneath it all- footsteps. Not loud. But slow. Deliberate.

Climbing the stairs.

They were coming.

Sakura’s lips moved soundlessly before he could speak again. A single word rasped out, barely audible over the blood rushing in his ears.

“Please.”

The moment he heard the teen’s voice- cracked open, trembling, nothing like the usual snark and fire he’d come to expect- every trace of sleep was obliterated.

The line stayed open. Sakura’s breathing came through faintly, fractured, like someone trying to breathe through smoke. Words tried to form, failed, fell into static.

And then the sound he made- just one word, whispered like a death sentence:

“Please.”

It carved something jagged straight through Endo’s chest.

He didn’t think- couldn’t. His body just moved. He was already out of bed, already halfway down the stairs, the phone still clutched to his ear, tank top clinging to his skin, heartbeat slamming like a war drum behind his ribs.

“Sakura, don’t hang up,” he snapped, nearly tripping as he grabbed for his blazer and yanked it over his shoulders. His other hand flew to the keys on the shelf, ripping them free so violently the entire rack nearly collapsed. “Hide or run- fight if you have to- but don’t let those bastards get too close!”

The panic in his voice wasn’t just panic. It was rage. Helpless, burning rage.

A door creaked upstairs. Bare footsteps thumped down onto the landing with a grunt.

“What the hell are you doing-?” Takiishi’s frown was the same as ever. His tone flat. But it didn’t matter- Endo turned on him with a glare so wild it nearly blistered the air.

“Sakura’s in danger!” he shouted, slamming the garage door open with one shoulder. “Those fuckers found him! So move it!”

Chika froze. Not because he didn’t believe him. But because of how Endo said it.

Endo never yelled like that- not at him. Never lost his cool, never dared to snap at him. Not even when Chika had lashed out at the tattooed man when he was getting on his nerves. 

But now? The man’s voice cracked. His hands were shaking. His teal eyes glinted with something feral.

Something close to fear.

Chika’s golden eyes sharpened in an instant. The weight of those words settled over him like a guillotine blade.

Those fuckers. Them- The ones that dared to hurt Haru- his beloved little brother. 

And suddenly, the anger wasn't Endo’s alone.

Without another word, the fiery-haired man stepped down the stairs, ripped his checkered vest from the back of the chair in the living room, and stalked after him- expression cold, lethal. “Hurry up,” he muttered as he picked up a pair of shoes.

They didn’t even grab their helmets. Didn’t waste time locking the door. The garage groaned open under Endo’s boot, the hinges screaming like something wounded. The bike was still parked from earlier- sidecar still hitched from when they’d driven Sakura to the festival.

Endo was already straddling the seat, yanking the ignition while Chika swung into the sidecar, fiery strands fluttering around him as he settled into place. His hand curled tight over the edge, knuckles stark white. His face was stone.

The tires screeched as they peeled out into the night.

And if anything happened to Haru- If those fuckers dared to hurt him-

Chika’s jaw locked so hard it sounded like bone grinding. A muscle ticked at his temple. Something deep in his chest was rattling, building, cracking open.

He didn’t know what he’d do. But one thing was sure- 

They were going to learn exactly what kind of monsters Haru had on his side now.

They were breaking the lock.

The one his friends had helped install, smiling like it was a big deal- “This is your first real apartment mod, Sakura-kun!” Suo had joked while grinning innocently. “Now you’re legally protected and slightly less likely to get murdered.”

Sakura couldn’t move, even when his phone clattered to the floorboards below. 

He stood frozen- like a deer caught in headlights, heart trying to batter its way out through his ribs, limbs locked by memory. His brain screamed at him to go , but his body disobeyed, too caught in the flood of noise and static. He could hear them on the other side of the wood- scraping, dragging, cracking.

‘Fuck. Fuck, get it together-!’

His nails bit into the skin of his arm, dug in deep until they punctured- until he bled. The pain was a jolt, a lifeline, something to tether him back to now. Something that wasn’t them.

From the floor where his phone had slid, the line still crackled. First Endo’s, then Chika’s voice bled through the speaker, distorted but unmistakable.

“God- fuckin’- here! …Haru? Haru. Stay with me. We’re on our way. Hold on a little longer.”

The sound yanked him back, clamping onto his spiraling mind like a hook. It was real. They were coming. He wasn’t alone.

His breath stuttered, caught sharp in his chest. He clenched his fists tighter, forcing his pulse to answer the call.

He was stronger. He was. No longer the half-starved boy who’d barely been able to stand upright, let alone fight. No longer the thing that bit and clawed and hoped it would hurt enough to make them stop.

He had strength now. He had technique. He had people who loved him.

He could fight.

The lock snapped.

The door didn’t swing open- it exploded, ripped from its hinges and flung against the already crumbling wall with a crack that echoed down to the pit of his stomach. The sickly yellow light from the stairwell flooded the room, slicing into the dark, and with it- shadows.

But Sakura was already moving- already snarling , teeth bared, mismatched eyes wild and unblinking. He moved like instinct, like hunger and fear and fire. A cornered, feral thing desperate to survive.

“Ah… hello, Shirayasha. I missed you~”

The nickname alone made his hackles rise. It slithered down his spine like oil- smarmy, lilting, disgusting. 

His fingers twitched, his neck itched. 

“Haru? Haru- what’s happening? Haru?! ” Chika’s voice cracked through the phone, more panicked now, teetering on the edge of rage- but it was distant. Muted. Like it was echoing up from underwater. Because Sakura couldn’t look away.

The man in the doorway smiled before waving, dark eyes crinkled like they shared some private joke. Something Sakura wasn’t in on- something carved from old bone and blood.

The voice was sing-song. Mocking. Familiar. Like a knife dragged across old scar tissue.

Sakura’s stomach flipped. His vision warped.

That voice- That smile-

That hand.

The hand reached for him- his golden eye- too fast. Too close. Wrong. Sakura bit down- hard.

His canines tore into flesh, and blood filled his mouth before the man even screamed. Metallic and putrid, coating his tongue like something rotten. His jaw clamped down harder, until he felt the skin tear. Until it hurt. Until it meant something.

The bite would scar- marring the skin, marking the man permanently- a warning.

It was him.

Nurarihyon- the right hand of the boss. The one who had first bought him. The one who’d shoved him behind iron bars like some exotic animal to be gawked at.

The bastard should've been behind bars- kept far, far away from the outside world- But now he was here. In his doorway. Smiling like nothing had changed.

Masked guards flanked him, silent as tombstones, faces hidden behind smooth white visors. The Yūrei. Just like before. Unmoving. Inhuman. Waiting to drag him back into a cage. Behind those cursed metal bars.

Then, like a flip had been switched, Sakura moved.

He grabbed the nearest thing and threw it. Then another. Everything- The gifts his classmates and Makochi residents had given him. The pieces of his new life. His home. He shattered them. Made them weapons.

Hurling another plate, the ceramic hit its mark, crashing into the intruders with deafening force. One shattered directly against a masked face, sending the guard stumbling back with a grunt. The other plate whizzed past, missing- but it was enough. Enough to make them charge.

They rushed him.

Sakura didn’t think. Couldn’t. Panic and adrenaline turned his body electric, overriding the exhaustion that had hollowed out his limbs. The bi-colored teen moved on instinct- on memory- on rage.

The heavy pot from his gas burner cracked across the side of another’s head with a sound like breaking bone. The masked man reeled- only for Sakura to drive a weighted kick into his gut-

Nothing.

His bare heel bounced off armor.

‘Fuck-! ’ They were wearing vests under their suits.

The pot was wrenched from his hands. He ducked too slow, a fist grazing his temple, and then it was all collapsing again. Guards swarmed. More shadows surged in through the doorway.

Three. Four. Five.

He dropped low, slammed his shoulder into the second one’s knee- sent him toppling. A leg swept at him from behind. He rolled. Kicked. Shoved number five into number three, then rammed six into the others like a wall of dominoes.

A second. One second. That’s all he bought himself.

He ran.

No hesitation. No breath. Just blood and instinct and the burn of old muscle memory.

Sakura snatched up his discarded phone- still clutched tight, still buzzing with static and the roar of an engine and distant, frantic voices calling for him. He didn’t listen. Couldn’t concentrate, the prickling on his neck getting worse-

So he turned and swung.

The corner of the phone cracked into Nurarihyon’s temple, gloved hands mere centimeters away from grabbing him- once, twice- enough to make the guy reel. Enough to buy himself another half-second.

He bolted through the bedroom, shoulder slamming into the glass door. The sliding door to the balcony gave way. He stumbled through, slammed it shut behind him, and twisted the lock. Not that it would hold. But it was something.

Next thing he knew was the air hitting him like a slap. Summer night- too cold. Too sharp. Storm-thick. Tasting of petrichor and ozone. The scent of a storm brewing.

He didn’t breathe it in, lungs feeling too full and too empty at the same time. Another intake would overwhelm him. He had to get away-

Jump.

Mismatched eyes locked on the dark street below. The van was still there- But no guards to be seen. 

He could jump.

Throat closing, skin going clammy- Sakura stared, his vision blurring around the edges. 

Even if he landed wrong and his ankles shattered from the height. Even if he broke something permanent. He’d survive.

Just like he had before. 

He’d run on torn ligaments, scrambled through alleys with broken toes. Slept in dumpsters with ribs bent wrong, bleeding from his mouth and nose, and no one ever came. After all, why would anyone bother with a freak when they could just let him die on the streets?

But it wasn’t like that anymore. It wasn’t-  

His foot braced on the railing.

Almost over-! 

Crack. 

The balcony door exploded behind him in a rain of glass as a hand- that hand - latched onto the back of his burning neck.

Fingers curled around bare skin, closing harshly like a snare snapping shut, sealing his fate. Immediate disgust rippled down his spine, halfway through lashing out-

But his traitorous body froze. Knowing that fighting would only make the punishment worse.

‘Move, move- MOVE, PLEASE-!’

“Oh no you don’t.”

The voice oozed right against his ear. Smooth. Smug. Rotten.

Then- a sting.

Small. Sharp. Familiar. Right at the base of his skull. His skin itched. Crawled. Screamed. It all came flooding back, overwhelming his panicked mind. 

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong–!

Not this. Not this again. Not after everything. Not after freedom.

The teen’s body jerked. His arms twitched. Nerves spasmed like cut wires. It felt like dying- slowly feeling the waves pull him under, his mind drowning. 

‘No, no no no- please- please no- I can’t- Chi-nii, Endo- anyone! Save m--!’

“Making us go through all that trouble, tailing you through the festival…Just like old times, hah.” The tainted voice spoke as he was violently dragged down from the ledge. “I really, really missed you, Shirayasha.”

His balance slipped. His knees gave.

The world tilted sideways, and the railing smeared like paint across his vision.

His mouth opened in a scream that never made it out.

The dark opened its mouth instead-

"Now... let's get you home, shall we?."

…And swallowed him whole.

Endo didn’t care if he’d broken half the laws in the prefecture. Didn’t care about red lights or the angry horns of drivers nearly run off the road.

None of it mattered.

Only one thing did- getting to Sakura in time.

His mind ran faster than the wheels beneath him. Flashing back to the old investigation files he had dug up and read through- The Faceless Buyers. The same bastards Sakura had crumpled while trying to talk about- stammering, shaking, begging his body to work like it hadn’t failed him once before- 

The bi-colored teen swayed, horrified and pale- before collapsing, Endo barely catching him before he could crack his skull open on the pavement-

Now they were here, at Sakura’s old flat, to take him away once more. And Sakura’s voice on the call-

That hadn’t just been fear. That had been trauma unearthing itself. It had been a goddamn scream for help.

Beside him, Takiishi’s voice was raw, stripped of its usual monotone, crackling through the speaker as his call went unanswered again and again. “Haru! Haru- answer me!”

Nothing. Just the sound of the bike’s engine and static.

Endo’s grip tightened on the throttle until his knuckles turned white. The bike roared down a narrow turn, tires skidding as they shot into the street of Sakura’s old apartment. The one he was supposed to leave behind tomorrow, to move in with them-

Instead-

They arrived just in time to see a flash of white. A van. Back doors yawning open, someone getting dragged inside- and then slamming shut. Silver emblem glinting on the side. Unmistakable. 

It was them. 

Three masked guards, referred to as “Yūrei” in the files, lingered behind. Blocking the street and therefore their path to the van.

He didn’t even think. Slammed his boot down and twisted the handle, the front wheel jerking toward them with a snarl- Would’ve rammed through the bastards like bowling pins if Takiishi hadn’t already stood, leapt from the sidecar, and launched into the first guard like a goddamn missile.

The fiery-haired man was all fists and fury, golden eyes alight with something dangerous. He didn’t speak. Didn’t need to. The crack of bones and crunch of boots said enough.

And by the time he sprinted back and vaulted into the sidecar again, Endo was already peeling after the van- chasing ghosts through the dark.

Rain began to fall. Thin at first. Then heavier. The kind that made the world blur.

Endo’s tense fingers clutched the throttle like a vice, the sidecar rattling beside him as the bike roared down narrow streets slick with water and oil.

The van was still ahead. Still running. Still getting away.

Clouds churned overhead like bruises blooming across the sky. The sharp scent of petrichor flooded his senses, soaked his tanktop, clung to his skin- but he didn’t care. All he saw was that van- All he saw was Sakura, suffering. 

The bastard in the driver’s seat must’ve known the district well- every shortcut, every blind corner- because the next turn led them deeper into the old factory grid, a twisting maze of abandoned warehouses that loomed like rusted husks. Their windows were shattered, their frames gutted, and the stench of mildew and waste made it hard to breathe.

“Shit-!” Endo hissed through gritted teeth as the van swerved again, veering left into a fenced-off loop near a processing plant. He followed without hesitation, tires shrieking beneath them, the sidecar rattling as Takiishi braced his weight- gold eyes fixed and burning, like a match about to snap.

And then-

They were cut off again. 

The trap wasn’t subtle. It didn’t need to be- Yūrei guards spilled out of the shadows, blank masks gleaming under the flickering streetlights. At least a dozen. Maybe more. All armed. All focused. The van was still moving in the distance, accelerating just out of reach- an echo of taillights swallowed by the dark.

Endo barely had time to curse before the first baton came swinging. Takiishi was already moving, launching out of the sidecar like before with a snarl and brutal efficiency, fists cracking bone, boots slamming against armored torsos. Endo joined him, wild and relentless, slamming tattooed knuckles into visors and knees and ribs, fracturing and breaking bones where he could.

They fought like hell- the guards were no problem for them, even with their armor. But it wasn’t enough.

There were too many. The bastards didn’t need to win- they just had to stall. And they did. Every blow slowed them, every exchange took seconds too long. And when they finally broke through, panting and bloodied, the van was gone.

Gone.

Endo swore, voice hoarse and ragged, and vaulted back onto the bike, desperate to catch even a glimpse of it again. “Hurry, damn it!” He barked at Takiishi, who was already sprinting back to the sidecar, fiery strands a mess. 

The engine roared and they drove off into the direction the van had disappeared into, but no matter how many corners they tore around, no matter how many dim streets they searched, no matter how many routes they doubled back on-

There was nothing.

Not a sound. Not a flash of silver. Not even tire marks in the wet. Just silence, broken only by the rasp of his breath and the cold patter of rain on asphalt.

He felt sick.

The tattooed man’s grip tightened on the handlebars, knuckles pale, before jerking up and digging into his drenched hair. He clawed through it like he could scrape away the buzzing in his skull, the blur crawling in at the edges of his vision. He couldn’t even tell what was stinging more- the downpour soaking him to the bone or the burn clawing behind his teal eyes.

Rage. 

No- guilt. 

No- both.

‘Sakura, I’m so sorry.’

When they circled back to the fight site- he hadn’t even registered making the decision- it was already too late. They had hoped, maybe, for a leftover straggler. Someone to interrogate. Someone to hurt until they spilled where they’d taken the bi-colored teen. But the Yūrei had vanished just as their namesake promised. Smoke. Fog. Ghosts.

Nothing was left but the sharp tang of blood in the rain, the warped imprint of bodies on soaked concrete, a single cracked mask left behind like a message.

Endo didn’t move for a second. Couldn’t. His limbs were stone.

Takiishi stepped forward first. Wordless. Drenched and silent, like part of the storm itself. His shoes splashed through puddles as he knelt and picked up the fractured mask. Held it loosely in one hand. Turned it over once. Then again.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t blink. Just stood there, rain dripping down the edge of his jaw, soaked red-blonde hair plastered to his face, eyes locked on something far away.

But his gold eyes betrayed him. They burned- not with fire, but with purpose. With fury. With something that would kill.

Endo didn’t even realize he’d moved until his fist collided with the wall. Then again. A third strike split the rusting metal frame of the warehouse.

His knuckles bled. He didn’t care.

“Fucking- fuck! ” His voice cracked like it hurt just to say it. And it did. He wasn’t used to this kind of failure. Not the kind that mattered.

They were both furious. Seething with it.

At themselves- for being too slow. At the bastards who took Sakura- for daring to lay a hand on him.

And at the choices they hadn’t made soon enough- for not dragging him out of that shitty apartment sooner, for not picking him up after the festival, for assuming they’d have more time- that the teen would be fine. 

Endo hissed, low and sharp through his teeth, pacing back toward the bike, soaked clothes clinging to his frame like a second skin. But he didn’t know what to do. The rage needed somewhere to go- anywhere - but all it did was circle tighter and tighter in his chest until it felt like he might burst.

Takiishi, still holding the mask, finally looked over at him. His face was blank. But his eyes weren’t.

“What do we do?” The older man asked, voice dry and quiet like a blade left too long in the rain. Not panicked. Not even angry. Just… lost.

And that was somehow worse.

Endo’s breath hitched. He didn’t have an answer. Not a good one. Not one that made this go away. He wanted to snap. To break something else- To scream loud enough to tear the sky open.

But it wouldn’t help.

Instead, his teal eyes narrowed, and he moved to the sidecar. His fingers wrapped around his phone, which Takiishi had dropped there earlier- its screen now dark, the call long disconnected. Nothing but silence and waterlogged glass.

‘Think.’

His grasp tightened, nearly breaking the phone with how hard he was squeezing it. 

‘Think, goddammit!’

The police wouldn’t lift a finger for Makochi. They hadn’t in years, not with all the gang activity. And Endo couldn’t trust the lackeys he usually hired- most of them only followed him out of fear, bloodlust, or greed. He’d misjudged too many before thanks to his shit judge of character. He wasn’t about to risk it again. Not with this.

But… Sakura had people. Real ones. People who had earned his trust. People who’d bled for him. Fought beside him. People who called him their best friend- The ones he fought for and talked so fondly of…

Endo inhaled slowly, dragging the breath through gritted teeth, tasting copper and rain.
“…I’ve got an idea.”

Takiishi looked up, water still dripping from his bangs, golden eyes blinking in silent expectation. The only sound for a moment was the distant hum of the city being drenched in the endless rain.

“Sakura’s one of Furin’s,” Endo finally said, voice low, words thick with something bitter. “And you know how those overbearing idiots get when one of their own’s in trouble. So as much as it grates - this is for him. We’ll go to them. First thing tomorrow.”

It felt wrong to say it out loud. That they needed help. That he needed help.

But this wasn’t about ego.

Not now.

Not when Sakura was missing- kidnapped- dragged away by the very monsters that haunted his past.

Golden eyes flared dangerously, the mask cracking underneath Takiishi’s grip. “You want to wait until tomorrow? Haru’s been taken and you-”

“I know, damn it! ” Endo snapped, rounding on him, irises darkening. Rain streaked his face, clinging to his lashes, but his voice burned through it. “But we’re not gonna fuckin’ find him tonight, Takiishi. Especially not in this weather. They’ve got a head start, and we’ve got nothing. We need to go in with everything we’ve got if we want to get him out alive."

Takiishi was silent for a beat. Then-

“...Fine.” His tone was flat, but not calm- rather tethering on the verge of violence. “But if they’re being difficult, I’m going out again. Alone, if I have to.” With a resounding crack, the mask shattered fully and fell to the concrete below. 

Endo didn’t argue. Didn’t nod. He just turned and swung a leg over the bike, starting the engine anew.

They didn’t waste more time. Just drove. No destination except away. Long enough to clear the roaring in their heads. Long enough to plan. They circled the perimeter of the factory district once more, gold and teal eyes scanning every alley, every flicker of movement, clinging to a thread of impossible hope.

But there was nothing. No van. No headlights.

No Sakura.

Only abandoned lots. Rusted fences. Hollow buildings and rain.

Eventually, they made their way back to the apartment. To what was left of it.

The door barely hung off a rusted hinge like a broken limb, splintered wood sagging under the weight of violence. Inside, the space was gutted- drawers yanked open, ceramic in pieces, glass glinting like broken stars across the floor. The scent of rain, mold and blood soaked the air, thick and awful.

Takiishi crouched low beside a stain on the floorboards- one of several, small and smudged. He stared at it far too long before reaching down, fingertips ghosting over the red. 

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t need to. His silence was heavier than words.

Endo stood nearby, bruised fists clenched at his sides. He swallowed hard, jaw locking. Blood usually excited him- it was proof of power. Proof of effort. A display of raw, primal human nature. But this wasn’t that.

This wasn’t Sakura swinging with fury and fire, fighting to win like he did during their fight. This was blood spilled by fear. By desperation to survive. And it made him feel even sicker.

They moved quickly, silently- gathering what they could. What little hadn’t been ruined.

A few salvaged clothes. His tiny fold-up table. That weird purple plush Endo vaguely remembered him gifting to that pink-haired friend- Kiryu, maybe. A delicate tea set. A charger. Pieces of a life. 

Pieces of him.

Pieces Endo had seen Sakura cherish so dearly when he had first visited the rundown flat, treating them with such care the bi-colored teen nearly trembled- like someone who hadn’t had anything in years.

Adverting teal eyes, the tattooed man’s scowl returned in full force, his throat feeling too tight all of a sudden. 

So he moved faster. Sharper. Precise. Shoving what remained into the small cardboard box they had found without a word, forcing himself into motion so he wouldn’t think- so he wouldn’t feel. But gaze kept flicking to the bloodstained floor.

Still no sign of Sakura’s phone. They must’ve taken it. 

…Maybe- maybe he could-

His thoughts ground to a halt.

Something silver glinted near the broken balcony door. Just barely visible among the shattered glass, half-hidden beneath a cracked floor tile.

Endo’s breath caught. Slowly, boots crunching over ceramic and glass, he made his way across the ruined room. Crouched. Reached out with rough fingers that suddenly didn’t feel steady.

And picked it up.

A needle-?

His heart stuttered. His pulse slammed into his ears like a war drum as horror spread through his system.

‘No.’

A small syringe. Bloody. Still filled with a few drops of something viscous and pale. The kind of thing that didn’t belong in veins. Not unless you wanted someone quiet.

He read about this in the case files- How they kept the kids silent and compliant-

He didn’t breathe. Couldn’t. His digits tightened around it so hard his knuckles went white.

They had sedated him. Didn’t even let Sakura fight. Didn’t let him scream. Just put him down. Like some feral thing they were dragging back into a cage.

Endo clapped a hand over his mouth and nearly choked. The nausea rose sharp and fast- burning at the back of his throat- but he didn’t let it out, his wide teal eyes not leaving the needle.

Behind him, footsteps.

Chika approached in silence, shoes silent over the wreckage. When he came to a stop beside Endo, he didn’t speak. Just stared.

The syringe in Endo’s trembling grasp gleamed faintly with blood and rain. And something in Chika’s chest turned to stone.

The world felt too far away all of a sudden.

Too quiet.

Too familiar.

His mind drifted- without permission, without warning-  Back to that one day.

Coming home from school with a box of pocky sticks he’d been saving to share with Haru. Strawberry flavor. The kind Haru always liked-

Only to turn into their driveway to see the front yard lined with garbage bags.

Broken toys Chika had gifted him. Clothes. Little shoes. All of it dumped in piles. His mother’s voice cold and curt as she said Haru wasn’t coming back. That they were cleaning his room- cleaning out the child’s damned shed. Saying that he should be glad the freak was gone. 

Wiping him away like he’d never existed.

This moment felt the same.

Standing in the wreckage of a life someone had tried so hard to build. Looking down at the evidence of how cruel the world could be to something so small.

Chika’s blood crusted fingers twitched at his sides. The water dripping from his bangs wasn’t enough to cool the fire beneath his skin.

He had lost Haru again.

After everything- after the promises, after swearing to protect him the moment he found him again- 

Haru was gone. And Chika couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it.

He was stronger now. Fiercer. He had power, experience, technique- Fists that could shatter ribs. Crack pavement. Fists that should have been enough. But they hadn’t been. Not when it counted. Not when Haru needed him most.

Gold eyes dropped to the empty syringe still resting in Endo’s hands. The sight scorched something into Chika’s memory- hot, bitter, and permanent.

He’d let Haru be taken. Drugged. Because he hadn’t been fast enough. Because he hadn’t pushed harder. Hadn’t insisted they pick him up after the festival. Hadn’t stayed. And the worst part- he should have known something was off.

Because Chika wasn’t blind. Wasn’t stupid. He noticed things.

He’d seen the scratching. Always the same spot, right at the base of Haru’s neck. Subtle, anxious- there, then gone like a whisper- but never random. Sometimes the bi-colored teen didn’t even notice he’d do it, only to freeze during the motion, his expression turning conflicted. 

Haru had never done that as a kid. Never flinched from invisible hands. Never guarded the back of his neck like it was a wound.

At first, Chika had assumed it was just nerves, maybe heightened senses accumulated from all the fights.

But now?

Now he knew.

Haru had been drugged by them before. Repeatedly. Until the teen’s body learned to flinch before the needle even touched skin. Until his senses sharpened, alerting him that someone was watching, telling him to be wary. Until instinct told him: Protect that place. Protect your voice. Protect your thoughts. Protect what they can still take.

Chika could imagine it, practically see it- How every time the small, frail form of his little brother fought back, they must’ve silenced him. Every time he screamed, they must’ve gagged him. 

Endo’s words from when he told Chika about the case files echoed- “One of the kids mentioned… that they used to keep him muzzled.” Like a dog.

Scratching was all Haru must’ve had left. A final defense. A silent cry for help. And Chika hadn’t listened. Because he was so confident he could now keep him safe- 

He didn’t want to imagine how many times they must’ve done it. Didn’t want to picture it- the muzzle, the syringes, the hands dragging his brother down into something dark and wordless.

Didn’t want to think. Didn’t want to feel.

But he did. It made his stomach churn, golden eyes stinging with unfamiliar pressure-

He just wanted Haru back.

Safe. Breathing. Home.

Molars grinding against each other, Chika breathed out shakily. His entire body trembled with barely concealed rage. 

He swore- he’d find him. No matter where they took him. No matter who stood in the way.

His little brother was coming back with him.

Even if it meant razing everything to the ground to do it.

Neither of them spoke for a long time.

They just stared- at the needle. At the blood, already fading into the rain. At the proof of their failure.

Eventually, Endo stood, tucking the syringe away. Chika followed, silent as always. His jaw tight, his eyes molten behind the cracking mask of calm he wore.

They returned to the bike without a word. Chika climbed on behind this time, the sidecar now full- carrying the few remnants of Sakura’s life in a small, soaked, cardboard box.

By the time the rain started to let up, they were soaked to the bone, clothes sticking uncomfortably to their skin.

But neither of them cared.

Monday morning was only a few hours off now. 

And when it came- they’d be knocking on Furin’s gates.

Meanwhile, deep below,

Sakura wakes to the sight of iron bars caging him in...

And the dull, familiar ache pounding at the base of his skull.

Chapter Text

Monday mornings were never really quiet in Makochi.

Birds chirped, engines roared, and the breeze carried the scent of fried food from open stalls prepping for lunch rush hours too early. But despite the usual clamor, something in the air felt… off. At least to Nirei.

“Still no reply?” Suo asked beside him, hands tucked neatly behind his back as he matched Nirei’s slightly uneven pace. The blonde blinked down at his phone, thumb hovering uncertainly above the screen. “Ah… no. Nothing. I sent like… three texts? Just in case he overslept.”

Suo hummed in that usual low, unconcerned way of his. “You’re aware there’s at least a forty percent chance he somehow muted his phone again.”

“Wha- forty percent? That’s oddly specific, Suo-san.”

“I’m being generous.” The other replied with a quiet chuckle, auburn eye glinting with amusement.

“…Okay, but still,” Nirei muttered, frowning down at the empty message thread on his screen. “He didn’t read any of them. Not even the one from last night. And it’s not like he accidentally blocked me, right? Right?”

Suo lifted a brow but didn’t bother answering, a wry curve tugging at his mouth. “I doubt Sakura-kun would ghost his own vice-captain. At least not on purpose. Maybe he managed to drop his phone and break it.”

Letting out a weak laugh, Nirei felt his shoulders relax slightly. “Yeah… yeah, you’re right. Or he probably just forgot again. Or… or the battery died and he’s walking ahead.”

“Perhaps our dear Sakura-kun is caught up in another local crisis,” The taller added lightly, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “A lost cat, a runaway child, hounded by overly grateful shopkeepers- he does tend to attract the bizarre.”

The suggestion earned a quiet chuckle from Nirei, though his grip on his bag strap tightened. “Still… he said he wanted to talk to us today. After school. Remember?”

Suo glanced over, the usual smile softening at the edges. “I remember.”

They both did. And they both knew- whatever it was that had been eating at Sakura hadn’t started yesterday. It had been there for a while now. Subtle at first: a flicker of hesitation, a sharp breath held too long whenever they passed a shadowed alley during patrol. Then it grew more into something more obvious as their grade captain slowly became more distant over the weekends. 

But Sakura never said anything, and they didn’t pry more than necessary. Because pushing him too far never worked. Because he always pulled back. And because, deep down, they trusted him to speak when he was ready.

So they kept walking, their shared silence comfortable but heavy, footsteps tapping quietly against sun-warmed pavement as the city stirred around them.

A few streets down, two familiar voices called out from behind- Kiryu and Tsugeura catching up, both slipping into step like it was routine.

“Morning~,” Kiryu chirped in greeting, slinging his bag further up his shoulder. His ever-easy smile was in place, though he tilted his head slightly when he noticed the absence of their grade captain. “Is Sakura-chan not with you?”

Suo shook his head once, coral earrings following the movement. “Not today.”

“He’s not answering his texts either,” Nirei added quickly, lifting his phone again to show off the unanswered texts. “Since last night. I figured maybe his battery died or something, but…”

Tsugeura hummed thoughtfully, glancing toward the groups of students ahead near the school gates. “Maybe Sakura-kun got held up again. Like last week, when that old lady had him carry her back home?”

“Perhaps,” Suo replied, shrugging his shoulders lightly. “And we all know Sakura-kun can’t seem to refuse, as much as he complains about it.”

Nirei managed a small smile at the thought. “Yeah… That’s probably it. No need to worry too much- We’ll just meet up with him at school!”

Kiryu’s pierced brow furrowed faintly, but he didn’t comment on the tension. Instead, he pulled out his phone tucked in that ridiculous hotdog-themed phone-case and unlocked it with a swipe. “I’ll text him again just to be sure~” he said, trying to keep the mood from slipping too far.

They strolled past Furin’s gates, swept along with the steady trickle of students filing onto the large courtyard- some yawning, some laughing, some clearly wishing they were anywhere but school. 

Just as they stepped up onto the front steps, feet brushing against warm concrete-

A sharp screech of tires sliced through the murmur of morning.

The rev of an engine followed, loud enough to make several students jolt and twist around, alarm flashing across their faces.

“Woah- what the hell?” Anzai muttered from behind them, instinctively edging closer to the building’s shadow. A few other 1-1 classmates trailed after him, faces drawn tight with confusion as they peered toward the noise.

The roar grew louder, almost thunderous- Then a blur of black and red-gold shot into view, cutting the corner with reckless precision and swerving onto Furin’s grounds like a damn missile.

Students yelped, scrambling out of the way as the motorcycle veered past the gates and along the outer ring, narrowly avoiding a group of second-years loitering near the new vending machines that had only just been installed last week.

And this wasn’t some junky street model either- It was sleek, low to the ground, matte black armored plating and stainless steel catching the sunlight in jagged streaks. A sidecar was hooked to one side, just as reinforced, with a streamlined finish that practically screamed custom job.

The whole setup looked more like it belonged in a high-speed heist than a school courtyard.

With a final growl of the engine, the bike screeched to a halt dead-center across the front lot- brakes hissing against bare concrete, the smell of burnt rubber curling faintly into the air.

Two figures sat astride it- both helmeted. The taller one, seated on the bike, killed the engine with a flick. The one in the sidecar rose with a slow, deliberate motion, joints unfolding like a coiled spring.

Silence fell. Students across the schoolyard had turned to stare- some blinking sleep from their eyes, others straightening with wariness. Because if these two were enemies… then they were out of their damn minds.

To roll up directly onto Furin’s turf- their very heart, on a Monday morning, of all things? When every senior, every fighter, the leader himself and his Four Heavenly Kings somewhere within shouting distance?

No one pulled a stunt like that without getting beaten to hell and back for it. 

Suo’s smile vanished. Nirei’s hand dropped from his bag strap. Kiryu tilted his head, green eyes narrowing with a flicker of recognition. Because he knew that bike and its riders.

Without a word, 1-1 shifted. A quiet recalibration. No signal. No weapons. Just the kind of ease that came from practiced instinct and shared battles. They moved into formation around each other like it was second nature.

The tension didn’t snap or spike- it hummed, low and coiled, like something waiting to strike.

“…Anyone recognize them?” Tsugeura asked quietly, adjusting the weight on one foot, arms crossed loosely but his stance ready.

Nirei shifted, peeking out from behind Suo and Tsugeura, his brows scrunched in concentration as he wracked his brain for information.

“…Not sure about the person in the sidecar,” he murmured, dark honey eyes squinting, “but the one on the bike- his build and the way he’s sitting… It feels kinda familiar?”

There was something about that posture- broad shoulders, calculated stillness, coiled like a snake ready to strike. It tugged at something in the back of Nirei’s mind, a half-formed memory just out of reach.

But the full-face helmet gave nothing away. And whoever it was had gone out of their way to cover up completely- rider’s jacket zipped high, gloves tight, not a single bit of skin showing. Just a looming, human-shaped threat carved from stillness.

They all flinched as the front doors behind them suddenly slammed open with a loud bang.

Bootsteps followed- sharp, rhythmic.

Umemiya Hajime strode past like a storm front breaking over the school, unhurried but impossible to ignore. 

Behind him came Furin’s infamous Four Heavenly Kings: Hiragi, Tsubakino, Momose, and Mizuki- each with their usual advisors trailing close behind, expressions unreadable. Together, they fanned out at the bottom of the stairs, forming a quiet, unshakable wall.

The entire courtyard seemed to pause.

Even the air felt like it was holding its breath.

Furin’s students shifted, murmuring in low voices- some gripping bags, others eyeing the newcomers warily. They didn’t know whether to brace for a brawl or stay out of the way.

Then, without a word, the rider swung a leg off the bike and reached up. 

One click. Two.

The helmet came off with a smooth, practiced motion- wavy black hair damp with sweat, stormy teal eyes scanning the crowd with flat intensity.

Endo Yamato.

Seconds later, the sidecar creaked lightly.

Boots hit concrete. The second figure removed his own helmet with a slower, looser motion. Red-blonde hair spilled into the light, vibrant and unmistakable.

Takiishi Chika.

Furin didn’t just freeze- Furin locked up.

Even from a distance, both men radiated the kind of pressure that could collapse a weak spine. Endo’s jaw was set like concrete, his eyes flicking toward the upper steps before narrowing in irritation. Takiishi stood with his hands half in his jacket pockets, golden gaze unreadable, like he hadn’t even noticed the crowd at all, too focused on the white-haired leader.

They hadn’t raised a fist.

But their presence alone was enough to trigger every instinct for survival in the yard.

Then-

“Well, this is unexpected,” Umemiya mused, slowly stepping forward to greet the two newcomers. “Takiishi, Endo. Long time no see since that last scuffle!”

His tone was casual and open, but anyone with ears could hear the wariness laced through it.

“What can I do for you two?”

-o-O-o-

They had just arrived at Furin.

Stocked up on resources. Took a quick rest. Readied themselves for whatever the hell this was going to turn into.

Endo clutched his helmet in one gloved hand, teal eyes narrowed and fixed ahead as Umemiya finally arrived- flanked by his Four Heavenly Kings, with that tall, sharp-jawed guy from Sakura’s class lingering in their shadow.

Behind them stood the others. Sakura’s friends.

The tattooed man’s gaze flicked to the side- Kiryu’s green eyes narrowed as their gazes met, his brows drawn low in an unmistakable expression: ‘What did you do?’

He didn’t answer, instead giving a slight shake of his head. 'Not now.'

Umemiya greeted them almost casually, voice smooth but shoulders subtly squared. Cautious. On guard. “Takiishi. Endo. Long time no see since that last scuffle! What can I do for you two?”

Endo didn’t waste time. “Save it. This is urgent.”

Hiragi stepped forward, baring his abnormally spiky teeth. “I imagine so- daring to show your face again after everything you bastards-”

“Now, now, Hiragi,” Umemiya interrupted smoothly, patting the other on the shoulder without looking away.

Endo took a breath, jaw tight. “Yell at me all you want later- this is about Sakura.”

That name cut through the tension like a blade. 

Umemiya blinked, the casual air slipping just slightly as his stance shifted. Alert. 

Behind him, Tsubakino’s blue eyes narrowed. His expression twisted, sharp and protective. “Sakura?” The Heavenly King snapped. “Didn’t you swear to leave him alone after you lost your fight?! What the hell do you want from him now?”

Endo’s scowl deepened, catching the subtle twitch beside him- Takiishi shifting, one shoulder rolling forward like he was barely holding himself back. His fingers clenched, then relaxed. Barely. A small fire on the cusp of turning into a blazing inferno.

Sucking in a breath through his gritted teeth, the man could practically feel the agitation rolling off of him. “We- god fuckin’ damn it- we need your help. Sakura was abducted last night, just before midnight. We chased the bastards, but lost ’em.”

His voice dropped, fists balled tightly at his sides to distract himself from the guilt twisting in his chest. “He’s been with those sick-fucks for god knows how long now and we need to find him. Now. Before he’s gone for good.”

Silence.

All of Furin went still. Every breath hitched. Every sound vanished. You could’ve heard a pin drop from the far end of the courtyard.

Then- chaos.

Shouts erupted like a spark to dry kindling. Students yelling over each other. Some stumbling in shock. Others already moving, fists clenched like they needed someone to hit.

But Class 1-1 stood frozen- Paralyzed.

Abducted? Sakura?

Kiryu stared, suddenly feeling sick. And it seemed like he wasn’t the only one, judging by the way Nirei had gone white as a sheet next to him- or the way Suo had gone almost unresponsive. 

Umemiya’s smile was gone- clean wiped off his face, as if it’d never been there to begin with. His eyes flicked from Endo to the wildfire barely restrained beside him. Takiishi’s shoulders were drawn high, chest rising and falling like a ticking bomb. Fury simmered off him in waves- quiet, coiled, lethal.

Umemiya’s voice dropped, low and deadly serious as he realized that this wasn't a joke- this was real. 

“…What?”

Tsubakino took another step forward, his face twisted in disbelief. “You’re lying. That- That can’t be true.” His voice cracked, teetering between outrage and something dangerously close to denial.

More shouts broke out behind them. Some students were already squaring up like it was a setup. Others had gone pale with realization. The air tightened- thick enough to choke on.

Just when it looked like fists might fly-

“Wait a moment.”

Kiryu stepped forward, sharp-eyed and steady, slipping past his friends and between the two sides like a blade. “…He's probably not lying.”

Everyone turned, faces a mix of surprise, confusion and suspicion.

“Kiryu-san…?” Nirei whispered, aghast, staring at his classmate- his friend- with wide, uncertain eyes.

But the pink-haired teen didn’t waver. Even with every gaze trained on him, he stood firm. “Sakura-chan has been… training with these two,” he said. “I believe it’s what he wanted to tell us- his classmates- today.”

Then he turned to face Endo and Takiishi directly, his expression darkening with gravity. “It’s really true? Not some sick joke? Someone took Sakura-chan?”

Endo didn’t hesitate. He gave a single, grim nod- but his teal eyes burned with conviction- with honesty. “I wouldn’t joke about this.”

And Kiryu believed him. 

Furin's leader exhaled slowly. His shoulders remained tense- no longer from restraint, but from fury.

That kid… That strong, angry, stubborn kid who’d grown into someone Umemiya was proud to call part of Furin. Who’d finally started believing in himself. Leading. Protecting others.

And now he was gone? Had been taken?

Umemiya turned sharply on his heel. “We’re going to the roof.”

No one argued.

-o-O-o-

The wind up here always felt stronger- sharper. On normal days, it cleared your head. Gave you air to breathe. Today, it barely touched the weight hanging over them.

Extra chairs had been dragged up and arranged in a rough semicircle, but not everyone was sitting. Some leaned against the wall, arms crossed tight. Others hovered behind the seated crowd, stiff and fidgeting, like they might bolt the second someone moved wrong.

Takiishi didn’t sit.

He paced.

Back and forth, like a panther trapped in a too-small cage, his boots scuffing quietly against the concrete. That usual mask of indifference was gone, peeled away to something taut, fierce, and deeply unsettled.

Umemiya, seated near the center, noticed it right away.

He had clashed with Takiishi many times- seen the sharp violence in him, the uncanny speed, the blankness in his golden eyes that made him so terrifying. But this? The way his hands kept flexing like they missed the feel of someone’s collarbone? The way he wouldn’t stop moving?

He’d never seen him like this.

Not even close.

All the chairs were filled now.

Tense silence clung to the space like a held breath- everyone waiting for the other shoe to drop.

From Class 1-1: Suo and Nirei sat side by side, visibly pale. Nirei kept wringing his hands under the table, and Suo hadn’t blinked much since they’d been let up here. Tsugeura hovered behind them with his arms crossed, more silent than usual. Kiryu sat closest to the center, green eyes sharp, shoulders tense, watching everything. 

The rest of their class- minus Sugishita- had been ordered back. Anzai had agreed, reluctantly, and was no doubt downstairs trying to keep the rumors from spreading like wildfire.

From the upper ranks: The Four Kings. Their advisors. Umemiya. And Sugishita, who stuck to his side like always, but even he looked rather off-put by the whole thing.

Even Kaji Ren had tagged along, arms folded, flanked by his two vice-captains, since he was among the group that apparently almost got bowled over by Endo’s entrance onto the school grounds. 

The wind had gone still.

Someone’s phone buzzed faintly in a pocket- no one moved to check it.

At the center of it all, Endo stood with his covered arms slack at his sides, jaw set tight, expression unreadable save for the barely-restrained flicker in his teal eyes. Takiishi lingered behind him, still pacing, each step tighter, sharper, more grating on the already fraying nerves around them. He wasn’t looking at anyone. Just the concrete.

Endo exhaled slowly, like steadying himself for an execution.

“Let’s just get this over with,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone here.

Then his voice rose- clear, even, but hollow. “Since we don’t have time, I’ll say this once- and I’ll keep it short.”

No one interrupted. No one dared.

His eyes flicked to Umemiya’s- stormy teal meeting jagged ice- and held there for a moment before he continued.

“Sakura was kidnapped from his apartment last night. Sometime before midnight.” Even when repeated- the words dropped like lead- cold, heavy, and irreversible.

“He called us- called me.” His voice didn’t waver, but there was something raw at the edge of it. “And asked for help.” A beat. A breath. “But we got there too late.” They had failed him. 

Endo didn’t let himself flinch when the words left him. He just watched. Watched their eyes narrow, faces pale, jaws clench. Fingers twitching like they couldn’t decide whether to punch something or hold on tighter to the hope they still had. 

But no one interrupted. Not yet. So he pressed on. “We chased after the kidnappers on my bike, but got stopped. Distracted just long enough… long enough for them to get away. Even after that, we circled the whole area- again and again- but the rain, the dark…” He exhaled slowly, the memory a dull spike between his ribs. “We couldn’t find him.”

His teal gaze swept the group, pausing just long enough to make it clear: this wasn’t a ploy. Wasn’t a bluff- nor some sick joke. “Since Sakura trusts you lot, I figured it was best to come to you for help-”

A small hand lifted.

Endo stopped mid-sentence. His mouth clicked shut, eyes flicking toward a tremor of motion.

A meek, blonde boy with honey eyes- visibly shaking- stares back at him, clutching a small notebook. Afraid, distraught, but determined. ‘ This must be Nirei’, Endo’s mind supplied as he studied the young teen. 

“Uhm, E-Endo-san- I’m sorry to interrupt,” Nirei stammered, voice thin but audible. “But… I don’t understand… Why would Sakura-san call you for this- and not us? H-Have you been meeting with him…?” He tried to sit straighter. Tried to look composed. But the crack in his voice betrayed just how much this was costing him.

“Yes, I’m quite curious about that myself.” The one with the eyepatch- Suo, if he remembers correctly - muses coolly, narrowing his auburn eye at him, while the others around them nodded- quietly, but with growing unrest.

Endo’s frown deepened. Right. Sakura had never gotten the chance to explain things to them- had planned to, today of all days. He’d wanted to come clean about the secret training- About moving in with him and Takiishi. About all of it.

But now Endo was the one left standing here. Speaking in his place because Sakura had been taken away, been abducted. And this- this part- wasn’t his to tell. It was Sakura’s.

The thought settled heavy in his chest, sharp-edged and wrong. Laying the truth out in front of Sakura’s classmates- his friends- without his knowledge… It felt like a betrayal. Like pulling back a curtain on something never meant to be exposed without permission. 

And sure, he could lie. Say just enough to get their help. Deflect, redirect, twist the truth until it no longer resembled anything real… But none of that would help Sakura now. The only way forward was through clear, brutal honesty. 

Endo opened his mouth- then paused as a hand landed gently on Nirei’s shaking shoulder.

“Hey, Nirei-chan.”

Kiryu, seated beside the blonde, had shifted closer. His tone was soft, careful, but unwavering. “Do you remember how Sakura-chan started disappearing more on the weekends?” he asked quietly. “How he stopped replying to messages more than usual? How he suddenly got stronger- pulling moves during training that none of us had seen before?”

Nirei blinked. Slow. Uncertain. Then again- quicker this time. The realization beginning to settle behind wide honey eyes like the slow weight of falling snow.

All eyes shifted to Kiryu now.

The pink-haired hesitated, glancing briefly at Endo before speaking again. “This is why he was gone a lot on weekends,” he said, gesturing towards the tattooed man. “He was training. With them.”

“Training with them?” Tsugeura echoed, confused. He stepped forward slightly, arms still crossed tight over his chest. “Wait- how do you even know any of that, Kiryu-kun?”

“Because I saw them.” He turned his green eyes back to Nirei and Suo, voice steady despite the slight tremble in his hands. “A while back, when everything happened with Akari-neesan… Sakura dropped off the plushy for me as a gift- the one I then left at his apartment…”

A flicker of understanding spread across their faces, clearly remembering the derpy purple plush Kiryu had shown off all slyly, and how they teased Sakura about it when they dropped by his place to hang out. 

“Well- Endo-san had driven him to my place by bike, and I stepped outside at the wrong time and spotted Sakura-chan with Endo-san. Our grade-captain was quite caught off guard and didn’t want me or anyone knowing about this yet- So I promised to not tell as long as he was safe… and as long as Endo-san behaved.”

Intense green eyes snap sideways to glare at teal ones, and Endo finds himself wincing guilty- He had promised to take care of Sakura, after all… 

“I then saw them again when they dropped Sakura-chan off for the festival yesterday- This time Takiishi-san was with them- And seeing as they looked so close and… peaceful, I was content to stay quiet until Sakura-chan was ready to tell everyone himself- which was supposed to happen today… but now…” 

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.

The silence that followed was heavy. Cracking at the edges.

Kiryu had gone pale again. Like all the blood had drained from his face and pooled in his stomach instead.

“Endo-san,” Kiryu asked again, voice brittle with renewed urgency. “Who took him?”

Endo sighed, straightening up while his thumb dug into the tension between his knitted brows. “I’ll get to that- but first I should give you some more context, yeah? Otherwise none of this’ll make sense.”

He glanced sideways, catching the faintest twitch of Takiishi’s jaw where the fiery-haired man stood turned away, arms crossed tight over his chest. Silent, but listening.

Taking a slow breath, Endo finally continued. “It was a while ago. ‘Couple weeks after the whole thing with the war- the fight I set up between Takiishi and Umemiya. I ran into Sakura near the edge of Tonpu Market Street.”

A humorless breath left him. “Wasn’t planned or anythin’. Just… happened. We talked a bit while walkin’ past the shops. He was still on edge, real guarded- but he didn’t bolt. That was already somethin’.”

He paused. “It was going fine- until a few rowdy guys came strollin’ out from one of the alleyways up ahead. Didn't say a word. Just walked past, then vanished back the way they came. But the moment Sakura saw the emblem on one of their jackets, he just-”

Endo’s jaw clenched. His voice dropped, rough and low as the memory replayed within the back of his mind. “-he froze. Started shakin’, real bad. Tried to hide it, but I saw. It was like somethin’ inside him snapped at the sight of them… Even when I tried to call out to him and draw him back, he didn’t-... he just shook more.”

He stared down at his gloved hands, the fabric suddenly feeling all too constricting and wrong. “I recognize a panic attack when I see one- and that one was bad. One second he was upright, outright dissociatin’ and then he just dropped. I was barely able to catch him before he cracked his head open on the pavement.”

The rooftop wind whispered through the silence that followed.

Fainted. 

Sakura had fainted?

The gathered Furin students stared, speechless. 

Sakura? The endlessly strong, stubborn, capable grade captain? That Sakura?

Umemiya’s grip tightened around the back of his chair. He’d done his share of research on panic attacks and stress responses when he was younger- back when his parents died in that accident. So he could be there for the kids at the orphanage. So he could be ready if anyone ever needed him.

But fainting at the mere sight of a logo- that wasn’t just stress.

That was trauma. Dangerous, ugly, buried-deep trauma- unlike anything he’d ever encountered. 

And all of a sudden, Umemiya felt sick. 

What had Sakura been hiding? Carrying, all alone? How had he not noticed?

The others looked just as shaken. Nirei had leaned into Suo, one hand gripping his arm like a lifeline. The poor kid looked seconds from throwing up. Though Suo didn’t look much better- even with how hard the auburn-haired teen tried to mask and compose himself. 

Endo broke the silence, voice grim but steady, determined to get through it. “Naturally, I took him home. He hadn’t told me where he lived, and I wasn’t about to leave him there on the street. From then on, we had a deal- I'd train him in exchange for him spendin’ time with me. I asked about the group, too, but Sakura shut me down. Quick.”

Tugging at the fabric of his gloves, the dark-haired man’s attention returned to Umemiya, taking in the increasingly stormy expression. “So I did some diggin’ myself. ‘Cause none of it sat right with me. At first it was just curiosity. But then… it turned into real worry. Worry for a kid who was startin’ to trust me- and Takiishi, too. He opened up bit by bit, talkin’ more about his past. And I kept searchin’. Lookin’ for that logo. Asked some old contacts, followed a few dead ends...”

He trailed off for a second, teal eyes darkening as flashes of the case files flitted through his mind.

“...Until I wasn’t followin’ dead ends anymore.”

The weight of those words had barely settled before Kiryu shifted beside Nirei, hesitant at first- then sharper, his voice laced with curiosity. “Sorry to interrupt, but before you say more- there’s something I’ve been wondering. Back at the festival, Sakura-chan mentioned something about ‘moving’. What did he mean by that?”

Endo blinked at the question, a frown tugging at his brows. Then his expression sobered. “Right. That…” He exhaled, dragging a hand down his face.

“Havin’ seen the state of Sakura’s… ‘home’, I decided to extend the offer for him to move in with me and Takiishi. He was unsure at first, but finally agreed to move in today- well, once he informed you all and explained everything on his own terms. That was the plan.” His jaw tightened. “But instead…”

“Sakura-kun got taken,” Suo finished quietly from where he was steadying Nirei, voice hollow.

Endo gave a silent nod.

A few heartbeats passed in taut stillness- then Hiragi broke it, green eyes narrowing as he put down a packet of… Gas-kun stomach medicine pills? The guy was still struggling with his stomach issues?

“…Wait, hold on.” Hiragi’s gaze flicked between Endo and Takiishi. “I get that you two trained together for a while now, and maybe Sakura looks up to you as a fighter, but- this?” 

He gestured vaguely, then jabbed a thumb toward the fiery-haired man now standing silently at the edge of the rooftop- now facing the horizon, eyes fixed on the storm clouds crawling over the city like bruises. “Opening up and agreeing to live with you- and him? Instead of his classmates? Instead of us? It doesn’t make sense.”

Beside Hiragi, Tsubakino nodded- slow, cautious, his voice quiet. “I have to agree with Hiragi… No offense, I just want to understand. But it’s strange. That Sakura would trust you two with this- agree to live with you, especially with how…” He glanced at Takiishi again, hesitating. “...how distant he usually is. And now, seeing him act so… Bothered…? No- different-?”

Endo shifted slightly, jaw tensing- he looked like he was about to speak, maybe defend, maybe explain- but he didn’t get the chance.

Takiishi turned.

No warning. No shift in breath or posture. Just a sudden whirl of movement and then-

“Of course I’m acting different.”

The words cut like a blade dragged across stone- rough-edged and seething.

“Because I wasn’t able to save him.”

Molten gold eyes burned through both Tsubakino and Hiragi with such fierce intensity the air itself felt thinner- like the oxygen had been scraped out of it.

“Even after all the strength I’ve gathered over the years,” he said, voice low and shaking, “all the fights, all the training- I still wasn’t fast enough.”

The words weren’t yelled. They didn’t need to be. There was something far more terrifying in how low and level they came- laced not just with fury, but something colder. Older. Self-loathing carved so deep it sounded like it had roots in his bones.

“I promised I’d protect him. I promised. ” Takiishi’s shoulders trembled- barely noticeable, but still visible. “And now Haru’s gone. Again. And instead of being out there, tearing apart the streets to find my little brother, I’m here. Because Endo convinced me this-” his voice dipped into a near-growl, teeth gritted, “asking for your help- was the better option.”

Silence. Stunned. Wide and total.

Even the wind seemed to hesitate, like the air itself was afraid to move.

…Little brother?

No one said it aloud. But the shock rippled through them all like a dropped stone.

Tsubakino froze, blue eyes growing misty. Hiragi’s brows furrowed, lips parting slightly as he stared at Takiishi like seeing him for the first time.

And Umemiya-

The King himself blinked, slowly, something unreadable flickering behind his gaze as he looked at the man who was able to fight him blow for blow. The man who never spoke and ignored those around him. Takiishi, who never flinched- Never cracked. Never showed emotion outside of a fight.  

Until now.

Takiishi Chika- the second strongest in Furin history- stood beneath the bruise-colored sky, silent and shaking and real in a way none of them had ever seen- even when Umemiya had finally defeated him at the end of the war. 

Across the rooftop, Nirei’s lips moved without sound. “Haru…?” 

His fingers twitched around the notebook in his grip, honey eyes wide. “Little… brother?”

A beat passed.

Then-

“Shit,” Endo muttered, dragging both gloves off and shoving them into his pocket. One hand went up to rake through the mess of dark curls clinging damp to his forehead, the other bracing against his hip. “Right. That’s- yeah, should’ve… probably explained that part sooner.”

He exhaled hard through his nose, and then- “They’re half brothers,” he said. “Same father.”

A ripple. Gasps. Sharp inhales. A disbelieving cough from someone near the back and the guy with the headphones jerked- his lollipop slipped from his lips and hit the concrete with a soft, brittle clink , rolling once before settling at his feet.

Tsubakino blinked out of his trance, voice low and stunned. “What…?”

Endo didn’t look at any of them. His gaze stayed fixed on the horizon, on nothing. “That bastard was also the one that ended up selling him off,” he said quietly. “Sakura, I mean. When he was a kid.”

Another round of gasps.

Momose jolted and dropped the pencil they’d been absently sketching with- it bounced off the rooftop and tumbled into the gutter.

Sugishita let out a sharp, surprised grunt, nearly pushing himself off of the chair next to Umemiya.

And Hiragi- eyes wide- shoved a trembling hand back into his jacket and pulled out another packet of Gas-kun stomach medicine, ripping it open like a lifeline. 

The silence after that wasn’t gentle. It was thick. Raw. Pressing in on every chest.

And then- A low huff.

Chika stepped forward, boots scraping the rooftop. He came to stand beside Endo, arms crossed over his chest like he was holding himself back- barely.

He didn’t look at anyone when he spoke. “…Our father and his wife were forced to take Haru in,” he stated flatly. “Social workers dropped him off. Said it was just temporary- until something better came along.”

He clicked his tongue, jaw tightening. “They didn’t want him. Treated him like he didn’t exist most of the time.”

The fiery-haired man paused for a beat, something sharp flickering across his usually blank face. “Except when they needed to remind him that he didn’t belong.” 'Haru didn't belong there- he deserved to be somewhere better. Deserved to be loved and appreciated for who he really was- who he is.'

Someone cursed under their breath. Another pair of fists clenched, bone-white knuckles trembling.

“They made him dye his hair,” Chika went on, quieter now. “Made him wear contacts. Told him it was to look ‘presentable’- less like a 'freak'.” Venom laced the word as he spat it, lips curling into something too brittle to be a snarl.

Silence crashed over the rooftop again, heavier now.

Then- finally- he looked up. His voice had gone cold. But his golden eyes burned. “They were hiding him. From me - forcing him to live inside the damn shed in our garden.” 'Like some sort of mistake they were trying to cover up, hoping people would forget- hoping it would die--'

More gasps followed- soft, horrified. Someone muttered “God damn it-” under their breath, but otherwise no one dared to interrupt. 

“I didn’t listen to them,” Chika continued. “I found him. Helped him when the neighborhood kids started picking on him for how he looked. He stuck with me after that.”

He exhaled slowly, like the memory cut and soothed all at once. “...Recognized me as his older brother.” A young, fragile, starved little boy looking up at him with stars in his big, tired eyes- 

Chika didn’t blink, didn’t waver, even as the unfamiliar sting returned.

“Until they took him away.”

He stood there, face blank, strawberry pocky in his hand- watching his parents throw all evidence of his precious little brother into the garbage. 

Silence again- worse, somehow. Like even the air had recoiled, making it hard to breathe.

Chika’s voice dipped low, almost too soft to catch. “I was eleven,” he murmured. “Haru was only nine.”

A beat.

A hitch in time.

“And after all these years of searching, when I was starting to lose hope…” He swallowed, sharp and bitter. “I finally found him again. Not because I recognized his face. Not because of anything I did…” His throat itched- fingers digging into his pockets and wrapping around a familiar object. He drew it out slowly, like it hurt. “But because Haru noticed the keychain he had gifted me back then.”

The worn cartoon cat that was once attached to his purse now swayed gently from his fingers, its plastic body sun-bleached and chipped around the edges- nothing special, not to anyone else.

But to him?

It was everything.

Displaying it felt like stripping himself bare. Like holding out his heart and daring them to look- to ridicule. 

Chika didn’t care- as long as they would help him get Haru back safely- alive- he would take this risk- show them this hurting side of himself. This weakness. 

Because for Haru, he would do anything. 

Nirei was the first to crumble.

He had opened his notebook again with trembling fingers, dutiful as always- but the pen stalled halfway through a word.

Then his shoulders jerked, sharp and sudden, and he let out a quiet, choked breath. Honey eyes burned, lips pressed tight as he blinked hard- again and again- trying to will the tears back in. But reality had started leaking through.

Sakura- his grade captain- His friend. 

Cast out. Neglected- no, abused. Sold off by his own father. 

And Nirei hadn’t known. Wouldn’t ever have known- because he knew Sakura wouldn’t dare burden them with this. 

Suo tightened his grip on the blonde’s shoulder, steadying him- but even he was shaking now. 

The auburn-haired teen clenched his jaw, narrowed his eye- not out of anger, but because the alternative was letting them flood.

His fingers dug in deeper- His carefully crafted mask splintered at the edges and his control slipped. And for once, he couldn’t pretend this was fine.

Because it wasn’t. His friend had been suffering in silence this whole time. 

And he wasn't able to do a damn thing. 

Kiryu sat rigid beside them, lips parted but silent- green eyes distant, haunted.

He clutched the front of his shirt, the memory of that day flaring sharp- When Sakura had walked him home after helping him beat up the thugs wanting to exploit Akari- “I could never… make the same face…”

Now he understood.

Tsugeura had gone deathly pale, fists clenching uselessly at his sides- all enthusiasm and energy ripped right out of him, leaving him empty. 

Even Sugishita looked like he’d just been punched. His usual gloomy expression now lost and unsure. 

The rest of Furin wasn't fairing much better, either. 

No one spoke for a long time.

The silence pressed in anew- thick, stifling. Too much.

Even the distant hum of the city felt muted now. The wind had gone utterly still.

But above them, the dark clouds marched on- slow and unrelenting, crawling closer with every breath. Like a storm summoned by the truth.

Endo shifted- barely. His teal gaze dropped to Takiishi, who was reeling the keychain back in with quiet hands. He held it close- right over his heart, golden eyes distant and hurting.

The quiet held. Heavy as stone.

Until-

Tsugeura exhaled. Shaky. Rattled. Like the silence had finally crushed down too hard on his ribs.

“Okay- I- damn it- ” His voice cracked, raw and disoriented, like it physically hurt to speak. “I- We get that now- and thank you for explaining, but…”

He looked between Endo and Chika, wide-eyed, breath shallow- panic bleeding into the edges of his disbelief.

“What do you mean your father sold Sakura-kun off? To who?”

Endo’s frown deepened.

The rooftop- the sky, the others- blurred for half a second before he forced himself to blink back into focus. He gave a silent nod to Takiishi, then stepped forward- dragging the weight of the moment behind him like rusted chains.

They’d been holding this off long enough. There was no more time to spare. No more kindness left in hiding the truth.

“The group Sakura was sold to…” His tone dropped. Cold. Flat. Brutal. 

“And the ones who’ve taken him again now…”

He drew in a breath through his teeth. Let it burn. Let it hollow him out on the way down.And when he finally spoke- his voice was akin to a hiss. Ragged.

“…They’re called the Faceless Buyers.” The name hung in the air like a curse.

No one moved.

Endo’s teal eyes flicked up- just for a second. Then down again.

“A human trafficking group.” His tone didn’t waver, but something inside him did.

And all of a sudden he was back at Tonpu market street, catching Sakura when he crumpled to the ground almost lifelessly- just barely catching him, seeing those beautiful cherry blossoms shake and wither- Back at his and Takiishi’s apartment, watching Sakura spiral, clawing desperately for air as panic overtook him, his once sturdy branches breaking-

The silence thickened. The weight of it unbearable. Pressing down- down- down on their lungs.

The open case file stared back up at him. Taunting him. 

“They deal with children.”

Horror.

Terror.

There weren’t words- just that violent, suffocating crash of reality slamming into the rooftop like a landslide.

A human trafficking group. Dealing with children.

Children.

Sakura had only been nine.

Oh god.

Hiragi gagged.

Audibly. Violently.

He shot up from his seat so fast the chair clattered to the concrete with a bone-jarring crash. One hand gripped his stomach medicine, the other clamped over his mouth like it could hold back everything threatening to rise. His skin was pale- too pale.

The Heavenly King of the Tamon squad stumbled away from the group, disappearing behind the rooftop enclosure to retch, his two advisors finally snapping out of their stupor to follow, whispering frantic reassurances no one heard.

Tsubakino cracked.

He didn’t even try to hide it. Couldn’t.

One harsh inhale- and then he collapsed inward, shaking, sobbing, leaning into the arms of the twins like a dying man. His fingers dug into their sleeves, his whole body wracked with guilt. His voice came out in a broken whisper, over and over:

 “No… no, no, no…”

Nirei’s notebook slipped from his trembling hands.

A soft thud as it hit the concrete, pages fluttering open like startled wings. His wide honey-brown eyes stared past it- unseeing. Distant. Flooded with tears that refused to fall.

His chest heaved in shallow, broken gasps, panic clawing its way up his throat. Too much. This was too much- too ugly, too cruel- 

But who was he to fall apart when Sakura-san had lived it?

Suo grabbed his fellow vice-captain’s shoulders immediately, trying to steady him, though his own hands were shaking just as hard- his auburn eye burning while the pieces crashed into place around him-

The strange, awkward reactions, the little silences, the way Sakura-kun didn’t know how to laugh at the most basic stuff- And now it all made sense. And it made him sick.

Sick for teasing his friend. For ever laughing. For not knowing.

Kiryu pressed into their side, folding himself around the both of them like a shield.

Silent. His jaw clenched so hard it clicked. He didn’t know if it was to hold back tears or to keep his teeth from breaking. Sakura-chan’s sad look- mismatched, haunted eyes- so terribly afraid of rejection- of being abandoned all over again-

He could only curl tighter, squeezing green eyes shut. 

Then there was Tsugeura.

He stood behind them like a statue carved in ice- tall, wide-eyed, white as a sheet. 

Frozen. Guarding them like a watchdog too stunned to bark. His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles had gone white, bloodless. Even now, even with everything shaking, he stood.

But he looked like he might never breathe right again.

Meanwhile, Sugishita-

He rose without a word. Just got up, like something inside him had snapped sideways. Turned his back to them all, pressed his face into his palms as his thoughts spiraled-

That guy. The one who pissed him off. The one he wanted to punch most days. The one who never bowed, never showed an ounce of respect to Umemiya-san-

And yet the only one besides Umemiya-san he’d ever really thought of as cool.

And now-

“Shit,” he whispered, forehead digging into his palms. “What the hell.”

Kaji bit straight through his second lollipop.

Shards of sugar splintered across his tongue. Blood bloomed faintly from the cut. He didn’t flinch. His eyes sparked at the edges, wild. Too sharp. Too bright.

Everything in him wanted to move. Wanted to fight. Wanted to grab something and throw it just to make this feeling stop.

It took both his vice captains, Kusumi and Enomoto, grabbing onto his jacket sleeves- tugging, grounding him- for him not to explode.

And Umemiya-

Umemiya stayed seated, spine straight. Still. Unmoving. Quiet.

His eyes- those famously clear blue eyes, always open, always kind- were dark now. Void of color. Void of light. Like someone had poured ink into the glacier and let it freeze that way.

His lips parted, but no voice came. 

Just a single, soundless exhale that looked like the word ‘nine’.

Endo and Takiishi remained standing at the center of it all, silently watching the storm they’d already weathered pass through the others like shrapnel. They had already felt this. Already drowned in it. It didn’t make it easier to see it happen again.

So they waited. Waited until Furin could breathe, when all of a sudden Endo’s phone buzzed. Once. Sharp. Urgent.

He pulled it out, thumb flicking across the screen, teal eyes narrowing- then widening- then burning with something new.

The tattooed man turned the device toward Takiishi, face alight with tension.

Takiishi’s breath caught. His golden eyes trembled. “…Is this really-?”

Endo nodded, a grimace-smeared smirk curling on his face. Something feral. Something alive. “We didn’t find the phone. So I thought if Sakura hid it- if they were stupid enough to keep it on him- then we can…” He trailed off. Sharp teeth flashing.

Takiishi gave a short, breathless, disbelieving laugh. The blank mask in pieces- but he didn’t care. “Haru…”

The older man exhaled once. Then turned back to the others- Turned back toward the slowly recovering mass of Furin- their former enemies- 

Endo followed and raised his voice. Steady and clear. Letting it carry across the rooftop. “Now that you know the truth-”

Heads turned. Breath caught in throats. Grief burned behind wide, red-rimmed eyes. “Now that you’ve heard about his suffering-”

Hiragi and his advisors crept back around the corner, still visibly pale and shaken, but listening.

“I’ll ask you again.” 

A pause. He held their eyes, one by one.

“Will you help us in our common goal? To bring Sakura home?”

Silence.

Then-

A chair scraped.

Slow. Harsh. Deafening in the quiet.

Umemiya rose.

He rose like a storm dragging itself out of the ocean. Like a king reclaiming his crown. 

His chair tipped back and hit the concrete with a crash, but he didn’t even glance at it. The muscles in his jaw were twitching. His hands trembled at his sides- fists clenched, barely restrained. The loose strands of white hair fluttered in the breeze. His eyes- those bright glacier blues- were back.

Alive. Furious.

“For Sakura?” he said, voice rough as gravel, shaking at the edges.

He took a step forward.

“For our friend?"

Another step.

"For my kōhai?”

Another.

“For one of us?”

He looked around- not just at Endo and Takiishi, but at all of them. Bofurin. His family.

His voice cut like a blade, rumbling over the distant crack of thunder. 

“Of course- Because anyone past this point who causes pain,-”  

Behind him, Hiragi stepped forward, face pale but eyes blazing. Tsubakino followed without a word, wiping his face with the back of his hand- uncaring for the mascara smearing across his skin.

“-Who brings destruction,-” 

Momose and Mizuki moved next, joining without hesitation, stepping beside Tsubakino and Hiragi. Their advisors fell in line behind them. Not a single soul held back.

“-Who holds evil in their heart,-” 

Kaji. Kusumi. Enomoto. Sugishita. All moved in unison, as if drawn forward by a single invisible thread. Eyes hard. Shoulders squared. Ready.

“Will be purged by Bofurin without exception.” 

Tsugeura. Kiryu. Suo. Nirei.

Even now- still shaking, not fully recovered- they rose too. Because this was their grade captain. Their best friend. 

And none of them- none of them- were letting him go.

Takiishi said nothing, but the faintest curl tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Endo grinned- sharp, feral, teeth bared like a wolf.

Enemies no longer.

Allies now.

An alliance, bound not by history- 

-But by a single, shared, searing truth:

Sakura is ours. And we are bringing him back.

No matter what. 

Chapter Text

Haruka knows what it's like to hate himself.

Because he never asked to be born like this- Two-toned hair, mismatched eyes, a walking contradiction. 

And yet, here he was.

A mistake.

Haruka knows what it's like to be despised for simply existing.

He didn't ask for it. He didn’t want to breathe, not if it meant this- This silence, this shame, this skin that never felt like home.

But he was still brought into the world.

A parasite.

Haruka knows what it's like to wish for death.

Not dramatically. Not loudly. Just… quietly. A whisper of a wish, the way children wish on falling stars.

He learned how to wish for an end when he was four. Maybe younger. He doesn't know anymore- So many of those days have turned to fog. They bleed together, colorless and cold.

A monster wearing a child's skin.

Mama and Papa said so.

Then Papa left, because Haruka was abnormal. Because Haruka was wrong. Because Mama said so, too.

Haruka didn’t understand.

He tried to be good. He washed the dishes. Folded laundry with clumsy hands. Swept the tiny apartment until his arms ached. He smiled when Mama didn’t smile back. He stayed quiet when she slammed the cupboard doors.

He waited for her love like a starving dog. But she only looked through him- never at him. Blank eyes. A husk staring at a ghost.

Still, he didn’t give up.

Three more years alone with her. Three more years of trying.

Yet no matter what Haruka did, he couldn’t make Mama look at him with anything other than that empty hateful- expression. Not even when he did his best. Not even when he cried. Not even when he hurt himself-

It didn’t matter.

And Haruka was tired.

Tired of waiting. Tired of wondering.

“…Mama,” his voice cracked, raw like scraped knees on gravel. “Why can’t you love me?”

-o-O-o-

It happened at the end of summer.

The cicadas screamed as he walked home from elementary school, one sneaker half untied, scalp still aching from where the other kids had yanked too hard at his hair. (They called it abnormal- two colors, it looks so weird! Like a delinquent! - before pulling harder, just to see if it came off.)

The teachers didn’t help. They never did.

He slipped the rusty key into the front door, shoulder nudging it open, and nearly tripped over another empty bottle. It clattered across the floor. Sharp-smelling liquid splashed his ankle. He winced.

The air stung. But this time it wasn’t just the weird juice that always made Mama angry. Something else hung in the air. Thicker. Metallic. Wrong.

Blinking his mismatched eyes into focus, Haruka let the door fall shut behind him and shuffled into the apartment. 

Everything looked the same… But it didn’t feel the same.

His cracked lips stung as he chewed them. His throat itched. “M-Mama?” he called out, quiet and careful. He always had to be.

She didn’t like noise.

She didn’t like him.

(Hands- fingers digging into the soft skin of his neck- “M-Mama- please-! ‘m s-sorry- I'll be g-good-!”

“If you were truly good, you would’ve been dead by now.” )

Silence answered him.

Maybe she was asleep? Her medicine had been making her more tired lately...

The young boy tiptoed past the kitchen. Past the closet. Through the darkened hallway as bottles clinked underfoot. He’d have to clean them up again later.

Then- light. A thin strip of it spilled out from the bathroom door, barely cracked open.

Haruka frowned. Something was wrong. The smell was stronger here. So strong it burned his nose. 

He reached out with a trembling hand and pushed the door open just a little–

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Red.

It painted the white tile like watercolor. Stained it. Crept under the sink. Crawled toward empty cans and uncapped pill bottles like it was trying to swallow them whole.

His mouth went dry.

“…M-Mama?”

No answer.

Just that awful dripping.

Just the red.

Haruka was only a child. He didn’t scream. Didn’t cry. He just stood there for a long, long time. 

And in that stillness- in that silence, as the vibrant red soaked deeper into the grout, Haruka learned something.

He would never be good enough.

He was never going to make Mama love him.

Not then.

Not ever.

And then the weird people came.

They had clipboards and kind smiles and eyes that never really looked at him. They said things like “you’re safe now” and “we’re going to find you a good home,” but their voices were always muffled. Distant. Like he was underwater.

Drowning.

They brought him from place to place. Houses with white fences and painted walls. Adults with forced grins and eyes full of calculation. Children that stared too long.

It never lasted.

They said Haruka was difficult. Said his hair looked dyed. His eyes were unnatural. Called him odd, freakish, too quiet, too intense. One woman whispered to her husband that he gave her the creeps. Another child cried when Haruka looked at them too long.

They sent him back. Again and again.

He stopped unpacking after the third house. Stopped trying to be good. 

And the weird people- the social workers- got tired too. Their smiles turned thinner. More strained.

Eventually, they called someone Haruka had never wanted to see again. 

They called Papa.

He didn’t want Haruka either. Haruka remembers the shouting. The arguing. The way the man’s voice slammed through the walls of the office like a punch.

“You want me to take that thing now? After all this time? The fuck am I supposed to do with it?”

Because Papa didn’t want to take him. He had a new life now. A normal family.

But when none of the other options worked- when no one else wanted the boy with two-toned hair and haunted mismatched eyes- they brought him back.

Back to Papa’s true family.

Papa only accepted because of the money. He said as much when they were driving to the house, the car reeking of stale cigarettes and too-thick cologne, making his nose hurt.

“Don’t think this means anything. They’re paying me to keep you alive. That’s all.”

Haruka just nodded. Nodded to avoid getting yelled at. Nodded to avoid getting hurt.

He doesn’t like Papa. He remembers the man always being angry- always louder, always sharper. Always grabbing or shoving or slapping whenever Haruka did something wrong, before leaving entirely and never coming back.

Simply because Haruka was born wrong.

A freak. A burden. A mistake.

He knows this now. So he stays quiet. Keeps his head down. Follows orders. Anything to avoid the pain. 

Papa’s wife- his real one- doesn’t like him either. Sir and Madam, they make him call them because he doesn’t deserve to speak their names as he would surely curse them. They also make him cover up his hair and hide his eyes. Itchy contacts, smelly black dye he now has to somehow buy himself from what little pocket change he has left. 

But even when he follows their rules and tries to be good, it doesn't matter. They don't let him go to school. They don’t let him eat with them. They don’t let him inside. All he gets is the shed in the backyard. That's his room. His home.

“This is what freaks get,” Papa told him. “You should be grateful.”

So Haruka tries to be. He tries to decorate the shed with the few things they let him keep. Little scraps. A torn book. An old blanket. But it stays barren. Cold. Empty.

He doesn’t complain. Doesn’t cry, even though his mismatched eyes itch, burn, blur every night he curls onto himself on the stained mattress in the corner- hugging that threadbare blanket like it could shield him from the silence, from the voices, from the truth.

He dreams of faraway places. Of a home where he was wanted. Of arms that held him gently. Of a Mama and Papa who smiled at him, who called his name with love instead of disdain.

Was it too much to ask?

Was he being selfish, for wishing the world would stop hurting?

He wonders if it would’ve been better if he were born normal. Wonders- like Mama and Papa used to say- if it would’ve been better if he wasn’t born at all.

Haruka is tired.

And it keeps getting worse.

Every week colder. Every bruise deeper. Every silence louder.

Until the day that Sir and Madam’s son saved him.

Chi-nii.

At first, the older boy was quiet. Blank. A little scary.

He barely looked at Haruka, barely spoke. But he didn’t flinch. He didn’t yell. He didn’t call him names or wrinkle his nose like everyone else did.

And when those older boys chased Haruka down the street, laughing and jeering- yanking at his hair, calling him names, trying to rip the plastic bag containing the little box of hair dye from his hands- Chi-nii stopped them.

He didn’t just stop them. He beat them. Fast. Precise. No words, just fists and fury.

Haruka had never seen anything like it. Had never seen anyone step in for him before. Had never been worth defending.

From that day on, Haruka followed the older boy everywhere. Careful not to be too loud. Careful not to get in the way. Like a shadow trying to stay close to the sun, even if it got a little burned.

The young boy didn’t care that Chi-nii barely talked. That he didn’t smile much or pat his head or ask him if he was okay. He had saved Haruka.

And in Haruka’s world, that meant everything.

Haruka loves Chi-nii. He’s light in the dark. Fire in the frost. His only star in a sky made of ash.

And the best part? Chi-nii never pushed him away, never rejected him. Not when the grown-ups warned him. Not when they hissed about how dangerous Haruka was. How strange. How wrong.

Not even when they tried to scare him off, saying Haruka would curse him. 

“I don't think you're weird, Haru,” Chika had whispered one spring night, when the world was silent and the shed creaked in the wind. “You’re a little weak now, and… kind of sad-looking. But that’s okay. But you’ll grow up to be tall and strong. Just like the Sakura trees.”

“...Like the Sakura trees? Not like you?” Haruka asked, voice small, but full of awe.

“Mhm. They fit you better.” Chi-nii explained. “They’re delicate. But they’re still strong. And no matter what- every spring, they bloom.”

That was the first time Haruka- Sakura- felt something warm bloom in his chest. Like sunlight through fog. Like spring after a long, endless winter.

The voices in his head didn’t scream that night. He didn’t stare at sharp things too long,  wondering how deeply they'd need to cut. He didn’t cry himself to sleep. (Because crying sometimes was okay, Chi-nii said so.)

It was the first time he didn’t feel as tired anymore. 

He just curled into his blanket, and dreamed of sakura petals, and Chi-nii’s quiet voice, and maybe- just maybe- a tomorrow where he got to stay by his big brother’s side forever.

Even when Sir and Madam repeatedly threatened him, told him to stay away, told him to not taint their son with his freakishness-  Sakura didn’t listen. Because Chi-nii wasn’t just his brother.

Chi-nii was his world.

And then Sir found out.

Barely a few days after Chi-nii’s 11th birthday.

It happened all at once. One morning, his big brother left for school like normal, not knowing it would be the last time. The front door slammed not long after. Boots stomping. Voices raised.

Sir and Madam stormed toward the shed like a fire had started inside it. They were screaming- screaming at him. At Sakura. Because he was filth. A stain. A freak infecting their son. Twisting him. Poisoning him. Making him unclean. A weed choking out their garden.

He didn’t understand. He begged to explain- that he was sorry. He just wanted to say goodbye- just wanted to give Chi-nii the drawing he’d made, the paper flower he’d folded-

But Sir’s hand cracked across his cheek before the words even left his mouth.

No time to cry. No time to scream. No time to hope.

Madam was already tearing down his shed. Throwing his things- his treasures- into a trash bag. The paper crane Chika had folded for him on his birthday. The candy wrappers they had shared like secrets. The ripped blanket- the only thing he had left of his Mama. 

All of it. Garbage.

Sakura was shoved into the back seat of the car like luggage-  No words. No explanation. Just the door slamming shut. Just the weight of silence.

His cheek stung. His chest burned. His vision blurred and his ears rang. He might’ve blacked out for a while- Because when the world stopped spinning again, they were somewhere else.

The city was long gone. Now it was smoke-stained walls and rusted fences, gravel grinding beneath the tires as the car came to a halt in front of a building that looked half-abandoned, fenced off and looming like something from a nightmare- silent, suffocating, hungry.

Sir didn’t even glance at him. “This is the one thing your abnormal appearance is good for,” he said, voice dull and clipped. “This’ll make up for leeching off my family.”

Sakura didn’t understand- didn’t want to understand- but the door opened before he could speak, and he was dragged out of the car, knees slamming into the pavement, gravel digging into his skin. The world tilted. His palms scraped raw, his head spun, and for a moment all he could do was blink up at the sun slicing through the clouds overhead.

“Well lookie here…”

A voice cut through the haze- slurred and slow, like it was savoring each syllable. Sakura flinched instinctively as a rough hand grabbed his chin, forcing his head up toward the light until his eyes burned.

“Ya weren’t lyin’. What a pretty little thing,” the man said, and his breath stank of cigarettes and something rotting. His smile stretched far too wide across a stubbled jaw, his dark eyes gleaming with something Sakura didn’t have a name for- only a crawling sickness in his gut, and a desperate, useless urge to run.

He tried to pull away, but more hands gripped his arms from behind- two masked men now standing beside him, heavy and silent, their stares crawling across his skin like cold worms.

“You told the truth about ‘im?” one of them asked, and the question wasn’t even directed at him. It was for Sir, who still sat in the driver’s seat, watching the exchange like it had nothing to do with him.

“Yes. The dye will wash out. The grey eyes are just contacts to cover his freakishness,” Sir replied, flat and factual, like he was describing a used appliance. No pause. No hesitation. Nothing human in his voice.

Then he held out his hand.

The first man gave Sakura one last look- slow, lingering, dissecting- before turning to Sir and handing over a thick, worn envelope, stuffed to the edges.

“This should make up for all your troubles, then. Thank you for bringing such an interesting specimen to us.”

Sakura didn’t move. That word hit harder than the slap ever had.

Specimen…?

His mouth opened, but no sound came out. He didn’t even get the chance to ask.

Hands were on him again- gripping, pulling, dragging him away from the curb, away from the car, through the creaking metal gates and toward the shadowed maw of the building that loomed ahead like it had been waiting for him.

He looked back just once- just in time to see the car turning around, the taillights glowing dimly against the shadows and Sir, behind the wheel, shifting gears like he was heading home from the grocery store.

That was the last time Sakura saw the sky. The last time he saw the outside. For a long, long time. 

-o-O-o-

The first thing the teen notices is the cold.

It creeps beneath his skin like frostbite, wet and iron-heavy, clinging to the inside of his throat with every ragged breath. The air smells wrong. Mold and metal. Bleach and blood.

Something’s pressing against his face- tight, suffocating.

Muzzle.

His eyes snap open.

Bars.

A single flickering bulb hums overhead, casting shadows like bone fingers along the rust-stained walls. The ceiling sways. No- he's swaying. Hanging. Arms chained above him, muscles screaming, legs barely able to hold his weight. The floor is wet.

He knows this place. Or ones like it. Not the same, but close enough. Too close.

His chest tightens.

‘No.’

A noise tries to rip from his throat- a cry, a scream, a word- but it dies behind the leather and metal strapped across his mouth. His lungs convulse. He jerks forward in his chains, the movement sending fresh spikes of pain through his shoulders. His head swims.

Drugs. Right- he had been drugged. 

His neck flares, thoughts mushing together, escaping him like water running through the gaps of his fingers. Still in his system. Still clouding his mind. He tries to blink it away, but everything feels off . Like he’s dreaming. Drowning. Trapped beneath ice.

He thrashes.

A whimper escapes, muffled and wet, as he stares at the cage around him. It’s not the same one. The one from before burned- he remembers the heat, the smoke, the fire swallowing everything. He remembers running.

But they built another.

They rebuilt hell.

And they brought him back.

The teen’s vision blurs. Something hot stings behind his mismatched eyes, but he refuses to cry. He won’t cry. Not again. Not here. Not where they can see. He’s stronger now.

But his body remembers more than his hazy mind can fight.

The cold. The muzzle. The way the light never turns off. How no one answers when he screams.

‘Chi-nii…’

The thought slips in like a whisper. Uninvited. Unbearable.

But his brother wouldn’t be able to save him now. They must’ve dragged him far- too far. Out of reach. Out of time. 

And now Chika was alone again. All because Sakura hadn’t been strong enough. Because he hadn’t moved fast enough. Because he hadn’t leapt off the balcony- hadn’t shattered his own ankles just to buy Chika and Endo a few more seconds to reach him.

He should’ve jumped.

He should’ve jumped.

He remembers- he knows- he heard Endo’s motorcycle. The growl of it tearing through the dark street as the guards shoved him into the van like cargo.

He knows it wasn’t a hallucination. It was them. They were there. They tried.

And still- he was here.

Another broken sound ripped from his throat as the teen jerked against the chains above him, arms screaming, joints grinding in their sockets. It only made the sway worse- only deepened the vertigo. The heat rose to his throat again. Bile surged. He swallowed it down. Again. Again.

He wanted to go back.

He wanted to go home.

To Chika. To Endo. To the quiet safety of Makochi- to Furin- his friends. To the scent of Kotoha’s omurice and sweaty after-fight laughter and stupid, unspoken promises that everything might finally be okay.

But he wasn’t going back.

The thought gutted him- split him open from the inside. And for a moment, everything just… went still.

The clinking of the chains near his ear grew distant. His vision blurred- washed out with too much light, too much pain.

They wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. The Buyers had found him again, and this time they’d learned. There’d be no second escape. No more fire. No more lucky miracles.

This time, he wouldn’t get out.

A phantom chill crawled down Sakura’s spine. And suddenly he was nine years old again.

Trapped behind unforgiving, cold metal bars. Bare knees folded to his chest. Curled up on the freezing tile, bones rattling with every breath. Crying silently for anyone- anyone - to come.

Chi-nii. Mama. Even if she never loved him. Someone.

Anyone. 

But no one ever came. Not back then. Not now.

(His throat closed.)

It was over.

His freedom. His friends. The life he built, fragile and stitched together with trembling fingers- it was all gone.

Furin would keep fighting.

Suo, Nirei, Kiryu, Tsugeura, Anzai, his classmates- they’d keep walking the streets. They’d wonder where he went, but they’d never know.

He would simply vanish. Just like back then.

(His lungs burned.)

Endo would blame himself for not reacting fast enough. Chika would tear himself apart with guilt as he realized that Sakura was taken away all over again. And they would never find him.

No one would find him.

(His chest convulsed.)

He was back to being a product. A thing. A body. The favorite. Their prize. And it would happen all over again.

All over again.

Sakura bit down on the scream building in his throat. It tore through his chest anyway- silent and wretched- just a ragged inhale that never made it back out.

He hung limp, chains digging into raw wrists. Tears slipped from his eyes without permission, splashing on the filthy concrete beneath him.

Useless. He was so fucking useless.

The world spun. And then stilled.

There was a puddle near the bars- oily, dark. He stared into it.

A reflection stared back. Wide, red-rimmed eyes. Mismatched. Haunted. Hollow. Barely human anymore.

He was never going to get out. Not this time.

Not alive.

Time ticked by.

His eyes stung, but they were dry now. How many minutes had passed- how many hours? He didn’t know. All he knew was the burn of his muscles, stretched and trembling, pulled taut by gravity’s cruel patience. His joints ached, his shoulders throbbed, the metal bit into his wrists- gnawed at his bones like teeth.

The muzzle dug in deep, chafing the skin raw along his cheeks and jaw. Too tight. Too familiar. The pressure made his teeth hurt. His lips throbbed beneath the leather and steel. Any tighter and it would scar. He could feel it.

A permanent punishment. But they wouldn't dare scar their precious product.

So all he could do was hang there.

Suspended. Waiting.

Until finally-

A door opened.

Somewhere down the hallway, the old hinges shrieked, and footsteps echoed down the corridor like dripping water into a sinkhole.

Sakura didn’t raise his head. He didn’t have to. He knew those footsteps. Knew the rhythm. The faint limp. The dragging weight of something broken that was never properly mended.

So he waited. Didn’t twitch. Didn’t look. Let the echo roll toward him like an executioner’s drum.

Until they stopped. Right in front of the cage.

The man stood there for several long seconds, drinking in the sight of him. And Sakura didn’t move. Didn’t give him the satisfaction.

“You really thought you were clever, huh?” The voice slithered past the bars, cold and slick. A small, rectangular shape caught the overhead light- Sakura’s phone, dangled between two gloved fingers like a prize.

“Such a troublemaker. Calling for help from your little friends. From the scraps you stitched together while you were allowed to pretend you were human.” He tutted, shaking his head with mock regret. “Did you enjoy your freedom, Shirayasha?”

At that, Sakura finally lifted his head. Slowly.

His glare cut over the edge of the muzzle. Mismatched eyes burning with fury and loathing and something else- something hollowed out.

Finally getting a reaction, Nurarihyon’s grin stretched wide, teeth yellow, gums pulled taut. The years had weathered him- creased his face with time, made his skin like old parchment- but that sickening hunger in his murky gray eyes hadn’t aged a day.

It was something that the teen had hoped- prayed- to never see again.

“There it is,” the man whispered. “That look. Those eyes. I’ve missed them. We all have. Our most precious product… back on display.”

Narrowing his eyes, Sakura held the glare steady, though half a dozen curses clawed at the back of his throat. They burned, guttural, aching to be screamed- but the muzzle silenced him. Smothered him. Again.

“You know,” Nurarihyon continued, tone light like small talk, “you really should’ve known better. Did you truly believe this would last? That someone like you could ever be free?”

He stepped closer, holding up the cracked phone again- the bottom edges still stained faintly with blood from where Sakura had used it as a weapon- where he had cracked it against the bastard’s skull. He huffed. Good, he hoped it still hurt-

“Still so feisty,” Nurarihyon chuckled, gaze flicking from the boy's cracked phone to his face. “You always were, weren’t you? Even after the guards cleaned you up. Dyed hair scrubbed away, those pitiful contacts tossed- there you were. Unmasked. Monstrous. Beautiful.” The man paused for a second, as if reminiscing that day. 

“It’s truly unfair, you know,” Nurarihyon muttered, resting a gloved hand against the bars, thumb brushing the rust. “I was the one who took you from your father- the one who accepted you- dragged you in and returned you to your original beauty. And yet… you had to catch his eye.”

Sakura’s body tensed. He didn’t mean to. But the memory struck deep.

“Spectacular,” that man had whispered the day they had unveiled him- shown him off to the upper ranks. “I have never had such an eye-catching product in my care… So I think I’ll keep you. What do you say?”

He hadn’t said anything- wasn’t able to. He’d just cried. 

Now, as Nurarihyon sighed beside the bars, Sakura dragged himself back to the present. The bastard laughed then- short, bitter. A noise that dripped with something worse than envy.

“I wanted to keep you for myself,” he said, soft and almost tender.

Sakura nearly gagged. He forced himself not to recoil, but the man's eyes- clouded gray, too dark to read- were roving. Leering. They traced his uncovered face- the bruises blooming across his jaw- barely visible with the muzzle obstructing them, the thin blood trail from his temple, the exposed skin where his collar had torn loose.

It made his skin crawl. It made him want to vanish. ‘Go choke on your own tongue you sick fuck–!’

“And now?” Nurarihyon smiled, crooked and too wide. “Now I regret it all the more. I knew you were pretty back then, but look at you now… How well you’ve grown, dear Shirayasha.”

The nickname turned his stomach. Acid churned in his throat.

Mismatched eyes dropped, narrowing toward Nurarihyon’s gloved hands- his right hand, specifically. How badly he wished he’d done more damage. Taken more than just a chunk. Ripped it clean off. Left him screaming and spurting blood in the gutter, like the monster he was.

More than ever, he wished to be out of these chains, out of this muzzle, to tear the bastard apart- to end it. Just like back then.

But the soft clink of keys pulled him from the memory, dragged him back into the rot of the now.

The chained teen stiffened as Nurarihyon stepped forward, casually unlocking the cell door with a mechanical click. The bastard’s smile didn’t waver. “Enough said,” he murmured. “Time to get you cleaned up. The boss doesn’t like to be kept waiting, after all. He’s already quite angry at you, you know?”

The words landed like a lead weight in his stomach.

The boss. Of course. Of course he was here. Of course this wasn’t the worst of it.

Sakura’s mismatched eyes flew wide. His limbs thrashed instinctively- fear overtaking fury now, cold and heavy and paralyzing. Chains rattled violently as he jerked, his breath hitching, eyes pleading even as his mouth stayed muzzled.

He didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to see him again. He couldn’t.

But Nurarihyon didn’t care.

The man calmly unfastened the chain mechanism above, and Sakura collapsed like a broken marionette- spilling to the wet tile floor in a tangle of limbs and bruises, feet barely catching himself.

Agony flared through his joints. His muscles screamed for mercy. His vision spotted at the edges. Still, he tried to rise. To fight. To lunge.

Numb, aching fingers wrapped around one of the hanging chains still clinging to his wrists-

-and stopped.

He couldn’t lift it. He was too tired. Too weak. Too-

Snap.

Sakura froze as the leather cinched too tight around his throat. Too tight, too familiar.

A leash.

‘No. No, no more- not again! I can’t-!’

His knees scraped stone as he was yanked forward, dragged stumbling from the cage, down the hallway with slick floors and flickering lights, each step echoing like a countdown to something worse.

The leash strained with each tug, jerking his balance off center. He couldn’t focus. Couldn’t breathe.

“Come now,” Nurarihyon crooned, sounding far too pleased. “You’ll even get to see some familiar faces again! They missed their precious savior oh-so terribly.”

…What?

The hallway narrowed. Sakura’s heart dropped.

The door creaked shut behind them. 

-o-O-o-

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The ceiling always leaked in cell block 4.

Sakura, ten years old and far too used to the smell of bleach and rust, blinked slowly where he lay curled on the cold concrete. Blood crusted along his cheekbone. The dull metal of the muzzle dug into his jaw. His back throbbed from the last hit.

He was tired. So, so incredibly tired. Exhaustion fogged his mind, making it hard to stay awake.

Then-

“Shirayasha?”

A whisper.

“Shira!”

“Are you okay? Shirayasha!”

The voices filtered in like sunlight through murky glass- young, familiar, soft.

When he opened his eyes again, they were there.

Seven kids in total, bundled at the far end of the cell block. Not separated by bars this time. Not locked behind glass. Just there- alive, intact, watching him.

Then they moved. Like water pouring toward a broken dam, they flooded his cell.

Kodama, the youngest of them, reached him first, her little footsteps hushed by the soft weave of her socks. She dropped to her knees with a gasp and crawled beneath his arm like a kitten seeking protection. Her two-toned eyes shimmered- one aqua, one green- and her tiny fingers clutched at his shirt.

“Shirayasha,” she whispered. “You scared me…”

The others followed quickly, no hesitation. No guards. Cell Block 4 was solitary, but theirs. Special enough to walk freely in, but not out of. A place made to look like privilege if you didn’t see the bars on the outside.

Yuki-Onna- or rather Yuki- glided in second, her breath visible in the cold still hanging in the air. Her white hair trailed over her narrow shoulders, perfectly combed, her nightgown a clean silk-blue trimmed in lace- beautiful. Delicate. Uncomfortably pristine.

“You bit him again,” she murmured plainly as she knelt, crystal eyes sweeping across the faint bruises on Sakura’s jaw where the muzzle rubbed raw. Her tone was soft, as always. Less scolding, more knowing.

Sakura blinked slowly. He nodded.

Kitsune and Tanuki- the twins- entered as a blur of gold, both barefoot, both dressed in matching white pajamas with embroidered hems. Kitsune’s hair was done up in neat twin buns- likely Yuki’s work. Her grin was crooked. Sharp. “I say he should’ve taken the bastard’s tongue this time,” she muttered, folding her arms.

“Ears first,” Tanuki added, nudging his twin with an elbow. “Easier to chew.”

The bi-colored boy huffed through his nose. It hurt. But he still managed to look at them with something close to fondness. They were always like this- loud, loyal, laughing at the teeth of things that should’ve scared them.

Byakko lingered at the doorway, arms folded. He stepped inside with a measured gait, neither rushed nor hesitant, his presence like a drawn line between the others’ chaos and calm. Blonde hair fell neatly over his brow, just tousled enough to look effortless. And his eyes- warm, steady, honey-gold- watched Sakura with something unreadable.

Eyes like that always held things too deeply. A kind of quiet knowing. Too much for someone his age of just sixteen, making him the second oldest behind Yuki, who had just turned seventeen.

He crouched beside Sakura with barely a sound, gaze lingering on the muzzle, then drifting to Kodama’s grip around his arm. “You’re still breathing,” he murmured, voice low, almost hesitant. A pause. Then: “Good. I’m glad”

There was weight in those simple words. Not just relief, but memory.

Byakko didn’t speak often, not unless he meant it. He’d been the first to reach out. Back when Sakura was still new- terrified, bloodied, silent. When he hadn’t yet earned a name. When the others had looked at him like a loaded trap after the guards- the Yurei- announced his arrival: A new centerpiece. Premium grade. Something special.

Byakko hadn’t flinched. He’d watched him for a while, then sat beside him like it meant nothing. Like Sakura didn’t still have dried blood on his neck and a muzzle cinched too tight to speak.

“It’s okay,” he’d said then, casual and calm. “He’s fine. I heard he was the one that bit that bastard Nura, after all.”

The others had stared. But that had been enough. From that moment on, Sakura had been theirs.

Now, he looked at Byakko, and the older boy met his eyes without expectation. Just a quiet steadiness, the same as back then. It settled something in his chest.

Movement caught in the corner of his vision.

Noppera entered quietly with a folded page in hand, fingers smudged with charcoal. He offered it without a word- just a drawing of a small, angry stick-figure attacking a much larger one labeled with a skull. Blood spurted from the larger one’s eyes in Xs. Sakura almost laughed if it weren’t for the muzzle keeping his jaw shut.

Tengu was last, slow and silent. The youngest, foreign boy at only nine years, save for Kodama, who was six. His dark skin and sky-blue eyes gave him a near mythic look- Waardenburg’s syndrome, they’d said. Exotic. Rare. Valuable.

The small child didn’t say a word. Just looked at Sakura like he always did, like he was memorizing every inch of his face. Like he’d been waiting.

They surrounded him in a half-ring of warmth and tension, their bodies pressed in as if they could protect him from the world outside.

Seven of them. Centerpieces. Too valuable to be kept among the general stock, too dangerous to be left unmonitored.

And at the center, him.

The muzzled one. The troublemaker. The “Shirayasha.” 

Not the youngest. Not the oldest. Not even the prettiest. But theirs.

He remembered their warmth. The feeling of arms around him. Fingers tugging on his sleeves. Concerned eyes and whispered reassurances in the dark.

He remembered being part of their little group, clinging to each other to stay sane- to not drown.

But now-

The light shifted. The memory dissolved. And all that remained was cold.

They’d just dragged him out of the dingy bathroom where they’d tried to clean him up for display, scrubbing blood off his face, forcing him into fresh clothes. He’d thrashed like a feral cat. Nearly bit off one of the Yurei’s fingers before they forced the muzzle back onto his face with two shocks to the ribs.

He didn’t care. Let them hit him. Let them bleed.

They were touching him. They were touching him, and he could still taste ash in his mouth from the last time they tried this.

The hallway they now dragged him through was narrow and dim. Water dripped from exposed pipes. Mold curled along the corners. This wasn’t like the past auction house. Not even close. This was a temporary hideout. Ramshackle. Hidden. Rotten. A damn holding pen- for him, and whoever else they’d decided to drag into this hell.

And then they opened the final door.

His knees buckled.

Mismatched eyes trembled as Sakura stared ahead in growing horror. 

‘No.’

They were here. 

They were all here.

Yuki was standing- or trying to. Her wrists were chained behind her back, her white hair tangled and crusted with blood- how much taller she had gotten since the last time he had seen her. She even grew her hair out.  

Byakko knelt beside her, bruised but proud, defiant to the end. He’d finally gotten the piercings he always talked about. He looked older now. Like a real adult. How old was he now? Twenty-one? Twenty-two?

The twins sat back to back, hands bound. Kitsune’s lip was split open. Tanuki’s eye swollen shut. Matching tattoos curled around their wrists- something to bind them together. They’d asked Sakura about the design once. Back then. They were so proud of the idea.

Noppera’s hands were smeared with something dark. Ink? Blood? Didn’t matter. It hit Sakura in the gut all the same. It looked just like the mess he used to make with charcoal and crayons. Like when he'd drawn Sakura slaying monsters with stick-figure swords.

Tengu hadn’t looked away from Sakura since the second the door opened. Clear blue eyes wide, almost hopeful as the child- the teen gazed at him. The same look from back then when Sakura had defended him from a client that had gotten too close. 

And Kodama… She wasn’t the tiny girl who used to cling to his leg anymore. She’d grown, too. Freckles now dotted the bridge of her nose- barely there, delicate, like fawn spots. But still her. Those mismatched aqua and forest green eyes were proof of that. 

All of them.

Looking up at him with wide, disbelieving eyes, as he stood frozen in the doorway- And he felt himself spiraling.

They had taken not just him like some cruel punishment for his disappearance. But them, too. The others. His makeshift family. The centerpieces. The ones who should have been safe.

This wasn’t possible. It shouldn’t be possible.

After everything had burned down- after Sakura had dragged his bloodied body through ash and glass to escape- he had prayed. Even if he didn’t believe in gods, in fate, in anything. He had still prayed. That they’d be okay. That the others would be safe.

He’d watched from the shadows, crouched beneath the broken beams of that hell, ribs cracked, vision swimming- watched the blue and red lights flicker through the smoke. Watched as police and firefighters poured in. Watched as ambulances carried the others away, wrapped in blankets, heads resting against the shoulders of strangers who cared. He had seen it. They were free.

And he had stayed behind.

He’d wanted the blame. Told the others to tell the truth- to expose everything about the Faceless Buyers, every name they remembered, every hand that was raised against them- every child that was sold. But then to let him take the fall for the fire.

If there were any rats left in the cracks- any monsters still crawling through the wreckage- let them come for him. 

Not the youngest. Not the oldest. Not them.

But him.

Sakura was the favorite, after all. The cursed one. The Shirayasha.

They were supposed to be free and live happily with their new families. But here they were. What remained of his old, broken family- chained, scarred, silent.

‘How…?’ His breath hitched, catching on the metal edges of his muzzle. ‘How did these bastards find all of us…?’

This shouldn’t be possible. Unless-...

His mismatched eyes snapped toward the man seated at the far end of the room. A figure haloed in smoke and shadows.

Unless they had a link. 

‘Oh.’

They did.

Of course they did.

That’s why Nurarihyon was here. That’s how the boss was here. Why the parasites that fed on power and children and pain were not behind bars- but out in the world, wearing new names.

That’s why the fire hadn’t been enough. Why nothing was ever enough.

And suddenly, Sakura wasn’t tired anymore. Not sluggish. Not sedated. Not broken. No, what bloomed in his chest now was a fire far more familiar.

Hate. Raw. Seething. Acidic.

And if not for the extra cuffs binding his arms, if not for the leash cinched so tightly around his throat that breathing came second to survival- he would’ve lunged forward and torn the fucker apart.

A sound slipped from his throat. Not a word- he couldn’t speak. But it was enough. A low, guttural snarl, muffled by the muzzle.

As the animalistic sound rang through the room, the man lounging at the other side finally turned.

Slowly. Like he had all the time in the world.

Tall. Dressed to the nines. Jet-black hair curled neatly behind his ears, each strand too deliberate to be anything but styled. Pale skin, sharp cheekbones, and a constellation of moles dotted the curve of his jaw like ink stains on porcelain. A faint burn scar licked the side of his neck, ugly and half-faded- a souvenir from the night his empire was meant to die in fire.

He no longer wore the blank, ivory half-mask that used to shield his identity. He didn’t need to. Not anymore. Because time had been kind to monsters.

Void-black eyes met Sakura’s.

And the bastard smiled. A flash of teeth behind the slow coil of cigarette smoke, the corners of his lips lifting like a mask slipping into place.

“Shirayasha,” he drawled, voice slow and rich, like poisoned honey. “Welcome home. Ever the troublemaker… You sure made us all wait.” He took a drag- deep, leisurely- smoke trailing from his fingers like ghostly strings. It wound itself around Sakura’s throat tighter than the leash ever could.

“But we couldn’t just leave you behind now, could we?”

Shuten-dōji, the head of the Faceless Buyers, sat there like a king on a rotting throne. And he looked pleased. Triumphant.

Sakura’s entire body trembled with fury, every nerve screaming in protest. He could barely feel the lingering drugs now- just white-hot anger roaring through his bloodstream like wildfire. His hands clenched into fists behind his back as he leveled the man with a glare sharp enough to gut.

‘Drop dead’, he wished. ‘Just fall over and rot.’

But of course, reality was never that kind.

Shuten only chuckled. Low and amused. “Nurarihyon wasn’t lying. Still as feisty as ever…”

With a lazy flick of his wrist, he gestured Sakura forward. In response, the Yurei behind him shoved him hard between the shoulder blades.

He stumbled, nearly falling to his knees, but caught himself just in time- head snapping up as he shot a glance toward the others. His old family. His siblings, not by blood, but by survival. Still chained. Still here. They watched him with wide eyes and clenched jaws- worry, horror, sadness- all wrapped together. Not one of them said a word. But they didn’t need to.

They were still with him- even after all these years.

Sakura turned back and continued his gait toward the bastard in front of him, shoulders squared confidently, mismatched eyes narrowed and attentive- Before halting just a few meters away. Bracing.

Shuten watched him the way a collector studies a priceless painting. Slowly. Leisurely. Leering.

Sakura felt bile rise in his throat again. But he didn’t move. Didn’t lash out. Not yet. He wasn’t that stupid. Not with restraints on. Not with cuffs tight enough to bruise and a leash that still restricted every breath.

Then, without warning, Shuten reached up.

Click.

The muzzle lock disengaged and fell with a loud clang to the floor.

Sakura’s breath caught. He flinched instinctively, staggering back- only to have Shuten grab him by the jaw and drag him forward again, cruel fingers digging into his face, forcing their eyes to meet.

Up close, those void-black eyes looked endless.

“B-…bastard…!” Sakura hissed, voice cracking from disuse. “I thought the police got you-!”

Shuten laughed. Right in his face. Smoke hit Sakura’s nose like ash from a funeral pyre. “Hah. They did,” he said casually. “But a little money goes a loooong way, my precious Shirayasha. You knew that already, didn’t you?”

The bi-colored teen’s jaw clenched, aching and itching underneath the man’s unrelenting grip. “Fucking… asshole-!” he spat, voice raw and trembling with fury. “Rot in hell.”

Raising a brow, Shuten merely smirked, unbothered, using his free hand to bring the cigarette back to his lips. He took another long, lazy drag- watching Sakura through the smoke with an almost bored sort of satisfaction- then leaned forward and exhaled right into his face. Acrid smoke stung his nose, his eyes, forcing them to tear up as he coughed violently, twisting in the hold like a caged animal.

“So rude… while I do enjoy your feistiness- did you really forget all the manners I taught you?” Shuten hummed, mock-playful, dragging the cigarette down and letting the ashes fall dangerously close to the boy’s cheek. 

“Don’t care-!” A cough, “ -damn it. How the hell did you even find me? How did you find them?” Sakura snarled, blinking through the smoke, mismatched eyes locked onto the man’s sneering face. “What the hell do you even want?!”

But his growl, his rage, his baring teeth- none of it concerned Shuten in the slightest. Because he knew. He knew. Sakura wouldn’t try anything reckless now.

Not with the others here- not with all the guards watching, waiting to punish them in his stead if he lashed out. Just like back then.

Shuten chuckled low in his throat, the kind of sound that made your blood remember fear. “Want?” he echoed, feigning thought as he leaned back lazily. “I want what’s mine.”

Then he began to explain.

Calmly. Casually. Like recounting the weather.

How the Buyers used the money they still had tucked away in offshore accounts. How corruption still ran deep, so deep even the ones meant to protect had helped them. How he’d traced the kids one by one- because no one just abandons premium products. Especially not when all of them had grown up so nicely. Especially not when they were beautiful, young, and still marketable- even when four of them were now adults.

Centerpieces don’t get to disappear.

“And you,” Shuten said, tapping Sakura’s jaw, letting his fingers drag along the raw, torn skin where the muzzle had bit into him, “you made it so easy in the end. After leading us on that little goose chase for all those years… you really thought settling in some little delinquent-run town with no cops or surveillance was gonna keep us from finding you? We have eyes and ears everywhere, you should know that by now.”

His fingers dug into Sakura’s skin, nearly breaking it. “The Yurei made sure your little protectors were dealt with, as well.”

And that’s when his breath hitched. His heart. His soul. His world.

Chi-nii? Endo?

“What… what did you do to them?” Sakura rasped, voice hollow, unsteady. 'Please- let them be okay. Please. They have to be okay.'

Tilting his head, Shuten offered a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Oh? Do they mean that much to you?” He tsked, thoughtful. “Don’t worry. They were strong. Nothing happened… just a little roughed up, I believe. In fact- they did quite the damage to our men...”

A breath of relief fought to escape Sakura’s lungs- but he crushed it before it could rise. He didn’t trust that smile. He didn’t trust anything- he knew better than that. Still, he forced the words out, cold and brittle. “And now what…? You got us back. How’re you so sure you won’t get caught again?”

The man laughed- a short, sharp bark- and leaned down, cigarette hovering dangerously close to his throat. “Because now that we’ve got you all back… we’re packing up. Leaving this country. You’ve never had the chance to travel, have you, Shirayasha?” His voice darkened with glee. “Well. We’ll fix that.”

Leaving. 

They were planning to leave. To vanish. Far, far away from anyone who could stop them.

Oh...

Oh.

They really weren’t ever getting out.

Not Yuki. Not Byakko. Not Kitsune and Tanuki. Not Noppera. Not Tengu. Not Kodama. Not even him.

He’d known this before. And now it slammed back into him with the force of a scream.

Hopeless.

It was all hopeless.

He wouldn’t make it. He wouldn’t survive this again. He didn’t want them to go through this again.

They deserved to live their lives far, far away from here, unbothered and peaceful. 

And Sakura? He would never get to call that damned guest room his own. He’d never get to complain about Endo’s dumb nicknames and his stupid teasing again. Never get to spar with Chika, argue over his weird games and end up falling asleep on the damn couch.

He’d never go home.

And with that realization, something snapped.

Sakura lunged, snarling, teeth bared, aiming for the bastard’s throat with everything he had left- but Shuten didn’t even flinch.

The Yurei yanked him back mid-flight, dragging him back and slamming him down next to the others with inhuman strength. Chains rattled. Clumsy, bound hands caught him- Yuki’s, Tanuki’s, Kitsune’s- as they instinctively huddled close around him like shields.

“Haah… really… the same old Shirayasha,” the boss drawled, exhaling the last of his cigarette and straightening his posture. “I’ll have fun putting you back in your place later…”

That word. That phrase. His heart jerked into his throat, limbs going ice cold. No. Not again. No. No. Please.

Not that.

“But for now-”

A flick of Shuten’s wrist. And Byakko was ripped from their group- honey eyes wide and startled. The blonde was dragged forward, then dropped like a doll on display in front of them.

Shuten took one last drag of his cigarette, watching it die between his fingers before flicking the stub into a puddle on the floor.

“I suppose this will suffice to keep you nice and compliant,” the boss muttered, his voice a murmur of knives. “Because this time? We won’t be so lenient.”

It happened too fast.

Too fast to scream.

Too fast to breathe.

One moment Byakko was sitting upright- and the next, his body jerked and collapsed, limbs splayed, honey eyes wide and glassy as blood poured beneath him.

He was heaving for air- but no sound came out.

Red. So much red.

A slow, seeping puddle creeping toward their knees.

Just like when he found Mama in the bathroom, bleeding out all over the tiles, all over the opened beer bottles and uncapped pills she had overdosed on-

Sakura stared at it- stared at the blood soaking into the floor- and didn’t even feel the tear that slid down his cheek. The world slowed. Screams echoed behind him- Yuki’s, Kitsune’s, everyone’s- wrapping around him like chains, like thorns.

“Byakko-nii!” 

Shuten raised the silver gun. Still warm from the shot.

“If you don’t comply…” he said, soft and cruel and final, “we’re going to let our lovely Byakko slowly suffer and die. And after that, it’ll be Yuki. Then Kitsune. Then Tanuki. So let’s all be on our best behavior, alright?”

His eyes- those black, abyssal eyes- locked onto Sakura. Only Sakura.

And in that moment-

Sakura drowned.

Chapter Text

The sky pressed low above Makochi, dark and bruised with the promise of rain. Thunderheads crawled across the horizon, and the wind had a sharpness to it- like the air itself knew something was coming. 

They were still gathered on the roof of Furin, the air thick with the weight of the alliance they had just sealed. No one spoke. The city below buzzed faintly- cars, lights, life- but up here, they stood still. Waiting. Watching the storm roll in.

Then-

Endo’s phone vibrated again. Short. Sharp. Just once.

He flicked the lockscreen open. Teal eyes flared. And then- he grinned. Not the usual sharp smirk or lazy grin. This one had bite. Teeth bared, face twisting with tension and something almost unhinged. “Gotcha.”

Takiishi turned fast, catching the edge in Endo’s voice. His golden eyes, still raw with worry, latched on. “Is it him?”

Endo didn’t answer right away, focusing on the coordinates he had just memorized. His fingers flew across the screen, dragging up the map. Shortly after, a pinpoint blinked on the display.

He shook his head once, slow, then turned the screen toward Takiishi. “The message I showed you earlier- just gave me an estimate. Too broad. But this one?” His voice dropped low, like flint scraping metal. “The bait ping I sent out got opened. Even for a second. Doesn’t matter who touched it. I’ve got their coordinates. We have him.”

Takiishi's breath caught. His eyes widened- then hardened. Shoulders squared. The storm inside his mind stilled for just a moment as he gave a firm nod. “Hurry, then.”

Endo inclined his head before looking back toward the waiting group. Most of the Furin students were murmuring amongst themselves, tension growing like static. A few had already caught sight of the phone, glancing between the device and Endo’s face. Waiting. 

“Damn it…” Hiragi muttered, his voice half-muffled as he rubbed at his stomach with a grimace. “Even if we know the area… how the hell are we gonna find Sakura if you lost sight of the bastards who took him?”

His words landed heavy, dragging a fresh wave of unease across the crowd. Heads dipped. Shoulders tensed.

But Endo? Endo just smiled.

Not kindly.

He raised the phone high, tapping the screen with a tattooed knuckle. “Don’t worry. I’ve already got the location down.” The blinking marker on the map pulsed with purpose. “And it’s not far from where we lost him.”

“W-Wait- Endo-san?” Nirei blinked up from his notebook, surprised. “How were you able to track Sakura-san’s phone this fast…?”

Kiryu, standing beside him, narrowed his eyes. Already suspicious.

Endo sighed. Loudly. “I figured something like this might happen eventually, so… I installed a minor ‘tracker’ in his phone. Just in case.”

A beat.

The silence that followed was not impressed.

Suo’s jaw ticked. Hiragi muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, ‘Of course he did’. Umemiya stared with quiet judgment. And Takiishi- Takiishi twitched.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just reached out and smacked Endo upside the head with the flat of his hand.

“Oi-!” Endo flinched, grimacing, but didn’t argue. He took the blow like he’d been expecting it. Because he had. He knew damn well that installing a tracker without permission crossed several lines.

“You’re going to tell Haru about this later,” Takiishi muttered, voice low and tight, laced with fire he didn’t bother to hide. “And you’re going to apologize.” Then- after a breath- he added, “But… good.” His hand fell back to his side. “Now we know where to go.”

A quiet settled again- tense and watchful- until Suo stepped forward, voice calm but clipped. “Can we focus on the strategy now? Sakura-kun’s still missing, and we’ve already lost enough time.” 

His tone held steady, but his hands- clasped behind his back- were straining. Tight. Only Nirei, observant as ever, noticed. His gaze flicked to the movement, then back up. He took a breath. “…May I see the location again, Endo-san?”

Endo gave a wordless nod and tilted the phone without hesitation, letting the screen face the blonde. Suo and Kiryu leaned in from either side, Tsugeura just behind. 

Nirei studied the map while the rest of Furin crowded close- Umemiya, Tsubakino, Hiragi, a handful of others lingering at the edge. His eyebrows knitted together as he studied the map- something about the layout nagging at him, oddly familiar- until he pinched the screen to zoom out. Then his breath hitched.

“This is-...!” Nirei’s voice broke quiet, honey-brown eyes widening as his hand twitched before he managed to still it.

Umemiya leaned in closer, sharp gaze flicking over the screen. A low, humorless hum left his throat. “Of course…” he muttered, spine straightening as his jaw locked tight. “Figures they’d pick that place. All those abandoned buildings to hole up in…”

Endo frowned and turned the phone back toward himself to double-check.  “Ah… That’s Shishitoren’s turf, isn’t it?” His voice rose slightly so the others could hear. “I completely missed it with all the damn rain and darkness.”

Hiragi groaned, already rubbing his temples like this was the last thing they needed. “Yeah. Outer north side. Barely patrolled anymore because it’s completely run-down. Which means-”

“We’ll have to get Shishitoren involved,” Umemiya finished grimly, already pulling out his phone. His thumb moved fast as he unlocked it and brought up his contacts, face tight with focus. He tried to reach Tomiyama first. The line rang out once, twice, then cut to voicemail. Umemiya exhaled sharply through his nose, lips pressing together. “His phone might be turned off…”

Suo, who had been shifting between the map and the conversation, leaned toward Nirei and tapped his shoulder. “Nirei-kun. Do you still have that thing from yesterday?”

The blonde teen blinked, puzzled for a moment before realization hit. “Ah- right! I almost forgot!” He began flipping through the creased pages, his gaze darting over cramped handwriting and half-sketched people until he paused at one with a quick, rough doodle of Shishitoren’s logo in the corner.

His fingers lingered there for a moment before he turned to the following page- one crammed with the messy, detailed notes he’d managed to gather on Shishitoren’s second in command, Togame, including a string of digits scrawled toward the bottom.

“Togame-san gave me his number after the summer festival,” Nirei explained, his voice picking up with both relief and a sense of urgency. “He told me to use it if something ever came up or we needed help.” He was already reaching into his pocket for his phone as he spoke, carefully reading off the digits before tapping them in. 

With the number entered, he switched it to speaker and held it up so the others could hear. The line began to ring.

Once. Twice. Three times. Four- 

“…Nirei?”

Togame’s familiar drawl finally slipped through the speaker, warm but threaded with puzzled curiosity. “Everything alright?”

Nirei let out a quiet breath of relief, his spine straightening almost instinctively. “Togame-san- hey! S-sorry for the sudden call. There’s… been an emergency.”

A pause. The faint crackle of static. Then a subtle shift in the air- as though the man on the other end had stopped lounging and was now sitting forward. “Emergency?” Togame repeated, the confusion already starting to drain from his tone, replaced with something sharper. “What kind of emergency?”

Nirei’s mouth opened, but the words stuck in his throat. He glanced toward Furin’s leader, who caught the look and stepped in without missing a beat.

“Sakura was kidnapped yesterday,” Umemiya explained flatly, jaw twitching as he tried to keep his composure. “By a trafficking group. They’re holding him on the northern part of your turf.”

The last trace of casual warmth bled from Togame’s voice in an instant. “...What?”

There was a second of static before his usual lazy drawl slipped into something sharper. “Sakura… got kidnapped?” The question was more growl than words.

A faint, almost knowing exhale came from Endo, arms folding over his chest. “Yeah, that’s the gist of it. And runnin’ through all the finer details over the phone’s just going to waste even more time,” Endo commented, tone even but firm. “So, if you- and Tomiyama- are fine with it, we can meet on your turf. Do a full rundown there, while stayin’ close to where those bastards keepin’ him.”

A short pause followed on the other end. Then: “…Endo?” Togame’s voice carried a flicker of both bewilderment and disbelief, as if that name alone pulled up memories of their last, less than friendly, interaction during the war. 

The moment stretched, taut, before Shishitoren’s second-in-command let out a short, dismissive breath. “What the hell- you know what. Forget it. Sakura’s more important right now.”

Whatever initial confusion lingered was burned away in an instant, replaced with a cold edge. “Again, you’re telling me some bottom-feeding traffickers snatched him, and they’re keeping him on my turf?” The laid-back tone he was known for had nearly vanished, his tone dipping low, tight- territorial in a way that could be felt even through the phone.

“Yeah,” Endo repeated simply, teal eyes flicking over to Takiishi, who had resumed his impatient pacing. 

A distant sound, almost like the creak of a chair shifting, came through the line- Togame sitting forward. “Fine. I’ll inform Choji and the others. We’ll meet at the Cage.”

Before the line could cut, Tsubakino leaned in just slightly. one hand sliding into his pocket while the other adjusted the cuff of his sleeve, his gaze flicking between Umemiya and the phone. “Perhaps I could reach out to the Roppo-Ichiza as well?”

The group’s attention turned to him, a low murmur passing between them at the suggestion. He went on, voice even. “Even if this isn’t their turf, they’re not the type to let a trafficking ring slide. They might have a few to spare- or at least meet us at the Cage so we can work on a plan together.”

Endo gave a thoughtful hum, weighing the words, while Umemiya’s nod came without hesitation. “That’s a good idea. The more help, the better.”

Togame’s voice came back through the speaker, the decision already settled. “Mhm, sounds good to me too. I’ll get going and tell everyone else. We’ll be waiting for you.” And with that, the call clicked off.

The air shifted immediately- tension bleeding into motion. Umemiya was already striding toward the stairwell, the heavy echo of his steps fading down the concrete. At the same time, Tsubakino dug his own phone from his pocket and turned slightly away from the group, thumb already dialing Kanji to request his group’s help.

The remaining three kings fell in step behind their leader, advisors close at their heels, and the rest of the rooftop crew moving with them toward the stairwell. Only Nirei, Suo, Kiryu, and Tsugeura lingered a moment longer. 

The blonde’s gaze dropped to the phone in his hand- returned to him by Umemiya before leaving- before lifting again to where Endo and Takiishi stood, watching the others disappear inside.

The tattooed man caught Nirei’s glance and arched his brow, a silent question in the small motion. Nirei exhaled, the sound shaky, then turned to his friends, honey-brown eyes determined. “I… I know I’m not much of a fighter. Even with Suo-san’s training, I’m nowhere near the rest of you. But I still want to be there. I want to help however I can- and I want to be there for Sakura-san.” 

Kiryu and Tsugeura exchanged a quick, knowing look, while Suo’s lone auburn eye lingered on Nirei for several beats- critical, assessing- before his expression eased into something lighter.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from my dear pupil,” Suo sighed, tone carrying just enough dry humor to hide the approval underneath.

Kiryu’s hands clamped warmly onto Nirei’s shoulders. “Hmm… in that case, Nirei-chan, you can be our healer! We’ll get you a med kit- and you can patch us up if things get bad.” From the side, Tsugeura perked up too, mood lightening. “Oooh, good idea!”

Suo gave the suggestion a slow nod, his gaze sweeping over the blonde one last time before he spoke. “It’ll work. But I’d still prefer you stayed close to us, just in case.”

“Y-yeah! Of course,” Nirei agreed without hesitation, lips jerking into a shaky smile.

Across the roof, Endo exhaled through his nose, silently watching the exchange. Takiishi was already halfway to the stairwell, fiery hair catching the light as he glanced back with a look sharp enough to finally prod Endo into motion. So the black-haired man fell into step behind him before that golden glare turned into a fist to the face. (It wouldn’t. They both knew that.)

The rest of Nirei’s group moved quickly, shoes scuffing against the concrete floor as they joined the descent toward the lower level.

Moments later, the school’s speakers crackled to life- a faint hum, a breath of static- before a voice cut through. Not the usual loud, almost obnoxious burst that came with Furin’s leader, but slow. Level. Stripped bare of its usual swagger.

“All students of Furin. Listen closely.”

The quiet in his tone carried farther than a shout. Even those still loitering in side halls froze mid-step, heads turning toward the sound.

“This isn’t about turf. It’s not about pride. One of ours has been taken- and we’re not letting them vanish without a fight.” A pause followed. Not long, but heavy enough to make people lean in without realizing it.

“This won’t be like the last war. This will be worse. We’re not facing a gang that wants bragging rights or to hurt our town. We’re facing people who sell human lives. People who’ll break anyone, do anything- and won’t flinch at hurting kids to get what they want.” His voice didn’t shake, but it landed with weight, each word deliberate, demanding attention.

“If you’re not ready to go up against that kind of filth, if you’re not sure your strength can carry you through… you stay out. No shame in it. But if you are-” another beat, measured, “-meet in the courtyard. Now.”

The mic cut with a sharp click, leaving the air dense and charged. Somewhere beyond the walls, thunder rolled low across the horizon.

-o-O-o-

Darkness folded and unfolded around him.

In and out.

Breathing- or maybe choking. Sakura couldn’t tell.

Faces swam into view, blurred like watercolors running in the rain. The others- His friends- Wide-eyed and trembling. The younger kids’ sobs punched through the haze.

That voice. That damned voice.

Shuten, murmuring something low, almost tender- words meant to soothe, but twisted, coiled in rot.

Everything spun sideways. His stomach lurched. He wanted it to stop. Wanted to go home- wanted Chi-nii-

The next thing he knew he was dragged up and away from the others- their distraught cries fading into the distance. 

A choked sound slipped from his throat, more whimper than word. Cool fingers brushed his forehead, the touch light enough to make his skin crawl. “Don’t worry,” the voice hummed. “We’ll leave soon.”

‘No...’

No, no, no. Not with him. Never with him-

The blackness surged up again, swallowing the thought whole.

The muzzle clicked back into place.

-o-O-o-

The street smelled of oil and rust. A low hum of engines idled in the distance.

Endo shifted his grip on the motorcycle’s handlebars as he pushed it along, the frame creaking in protest. Beside him, Takiishi walked with his usual loose, confident gait- though even he kept his golden eyes fixed ahead, the faint pull of his jaw betraying his mood.

They weren’t alone. Not by a long shot.

A dozen shadows stretched over the cracked asphalt, boots striking in an uneven chorus. Some faces were familiar from the roof or the courtyard. Others… well,  Endo was surprised how many had simply shown up, declaring they’d fight, when word spread.

All for Sakura.

The realization lodged like a knot in his throat.

“This is… a lot more than I thought we’d get,” he whistled under his breath. Takiishi only hummed, hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets.

‘With this many people… There’s no way in hell we won’t be able to save him.’

It wasn’t hope. Not exactly. But it eased the restless gnawing that had been clawing at him all morning.

Together, the group moved as one, boots grinding against the cracked street, steadily approaching the underpass beneath the train bridge that led into Shishitoren’s turf.

To their surprise, Togame and Tomiyama were already waiting, flanked by a handful of their own. None of them looked particularly pleased- but then again, who would be, when told a trafficking ring had sunk claws into their turf and stolen someone they considered a friend?

Tomiyama’s usual cheer was absent while Togame’s sharp gaze edged with impatience. Still, both stepped forward, offering Umemiya curt nods- no more than a few words exchanged.

No one lingered. Time pressed too harshly against their heels.

The Shishitoren group led the way into the narrow underpass, shadows stretching long across the walls before vanishing into dim light. Furin students fell in behind them, the procession moving in near silence.

Endo and Takiishi matched the pace easily as they threaded past shuttered bars and hollow storefronts- streets that looked abandoned, a sharp contrast to the warmth of yesterday’s summer festival.

And then, finally, the Cage loomed into view. Its façade looming over the street- grime streaking down the walls, rust bleeding through the metal frames, crude graffiti scrawled across the sides in angry slashes. Once a theater, stripped of glamour and velvet, now repurposed as Shishitoren’s heart.

Endo hummed low in his throat at the sight, easing his motorcycle against the wall just shy of the weathered display windows. The kickstand groaned against the pavement before he slipped back into step with the others.

They crossed the threshold. Cool air rushed out to meet them, a sharp contrast to the heavy summer heat clinging outside. The interior looked far better than its husk suggested. Faded curtains still hung in place, the floors were clean, and the stage had been repaired- polished, even.

Nirei noticed first. “Huh. It looks better than last time…” he muttered, honey-brown eyes sweeping the walls while Suo gave an absentminded nod. Fresh paint lined the banisters, patched fixtures filled spaces where dust had clung before.

A fair share of Shishitoren had already gathered. Heads turned as Furin filed in, a ripple of murmurs rising through the hall. Some looked confused, as though the news hadn’t reached them yet. And from the sheer number packed into the hall, plenty drifted upstairs to the second level, leaning on the railings for a better view.

Nirei and his group slipped into a row of empty seats at the front, close to the stage. Meanwhile, Endo and Takiishi followed Umemiya and his two kings, while Togame and Tomiyama took the lead. Their steady advance sent faint echoes across the wooden floorboards, each footfall tightening the restless hush that held the theater.

Hiragi leaned sideways, muttering under his breath to Tsubakino, whose eyes stayed fixed on the glow of his phone. “Any word on when they’ll get here?”

Tsubakino exhaled, shoulders heavy, and gave a small nod. “Kanji said he needs a few minutes to round up anyone willing to fight. Five at most- maybe less, if they’re quick.” With that, he powered off the device, tucking it neatly into the inner fold of his uniform.

The sharp-toothed king hummed at the answer, eyes flicking toward Umemiya for direction. The white-haired leader dipped his head, then turned, raising a hand to beckon Endo and Takiishi forward.

Endo moved without hesitation, the faintest curl of a frown tugging at his mouth. From the corner of his eye, he caught the way Togame and Tomiyama watched him- along with more than a few Furin and Shishitoren alike. That scrutiny was to be expected. To them, he was still the one who’d kick-started a war for fun. Distrust wasn’t just natural- it was deserved.

‘Oh well.’

He took the step up, Takiishi pacing a half beat behind him, arms folded, jaw set.

“Once the members of the Roppo-Ichiza arrive,” Umemiya said, voice carrying steady across the stage, “would you two be willing to explain again? Just a short summary, to get everyone on the same page before we plan the rescue.”

Takiishi’s mouth twisted, golden eyes narrowing with impatience. He looked a second away from shutting the request down entirely. Endo understood the feeling well enough.

“I’ll take care of the talkin’,” Endo drawled, lifting his hands in a casual shrug as he drew their attention onto himself. “Takiishi, grab yourself a seat. I know we’re pressed for time, but we’ll cut it short and sweet. Won’t we?” His teal gaze flicked toward the others, sharp and assessing. 

“Of course. We want to get Sakura back as much as you do,” Togame replied, voice edged with steel, green eyes narrowing whilst Tomiyama gave a determined nod. "Exactly! Sakura-chan is our friend."

That was enough to satisfy the tattooed man. “Good,” Endo’s grin sharpened, then smoothed into something unreadable before he tipped his chin at the fiery-haired man. 

Takiishi relented with little more than a grunt. He turned on his heel, striding off the stage. A couple of Furin students scrambled out of their seats before he even looked their way, startled into making space. He dropped into the gap with the unshaken ease of someone who owned the floor no matter where he sat.

The distant scrape of footsteps echoed down the aisle before the quiet could resettle. Heads turned almost in unison as the doors at the far end of the hall swung open.

Two figures entered first- Kanuma Minoru and Arima Yukinari, their bright orange and white jackets marking them as Shishitoren. And behind them came the Roppo-Ichiza, silver pins glinting with their logo.

Tsubakino perked up, lifting a hand in greeting as the newcomers filed in.

Kanji walked at the head of the Roppo-Ichiza, his presence alone enough to dim the restless murmurs that still flickered through the hall. Flanking him, Miyoshi, Hidaka, Otowa, and even Suzuri- the leader of Gravel- moved like shadows at his side, their steps precise, deliberate. The rest of the crew- nearly twenty men strong- followed close behind, filling the aisle until the space seemed to narrow around them.

Kanji gave a single nod toward Umemiya and Tsubakino at the front before motioning his group into the empty seats. Only then did he continue forward himself, slipping into a place near Choji and Togame.

The shuffling of fabric quieted. Footsteps faded. And then, stillness.

Every eye waited on the stage.

With one last sweeping gaze over the packed theater, Furin’s leader stepped forward. Blue eyes steady, his presence alone drew the silence tighter.

“Thank you,” Umemiya began, voice calm but edged with steel. “All of you- thank you for gathering on such short notice.” His gaze swept over Shishitoren and the Roppo-Ichiza. “I wish this meeting were under better terms. But as you’ve already heard- one of ours has been taken. Sakura Haruka.”

A faint, uneasy ripple moved through the room. Yet no one spoke, not daring to interrupt. 

“Not just taken. Kidnapped,” The white-haired man continued, his tone tightening. “By an organization that deals in human trafficking. They’re hiding out on the northern side of Shishitoren’s turf. To bring Sakura back- and to crush that sick ring so they never lay hands on another person, another child, ever again- we need every hand in this room.”

He paused. His gaze slid to Endo. A small nod- his cue.

Endo’s grin flickered, thin and sharp, and just as fake. With one last glance at Takiishi- guarded, impatient, foot tapping restlessly against the wooden floor- the tattooed man stepped forward. His voice cut clean through the large theater.

His recounting of his connection to Sakura, along with the abduction that happened just yesterday, was quick and cutting, stripped bare of anything extra. What he’d seen. What it meant. Why it mattered. No dramatics, no frills- just facts sharp enough to sting.

When he finished, his stormy teal eyes swept the crowd, daring anyone to speak against it. No one did. 

Only then did Endo pull his phone from his pocket and hold it up for all to see. His grin widened, teeth bared, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Now that you’re all caught up, let’s get to the bastards that took him.” His voice dropped, low and cutting. “They’re called the Faceless Buyers. Like Umemiya said- they deal in human lives. Kids, to be specific.” His expression hardened, suppressing the urge to dig his fingers into skin. “And Sakura’s got history with ‘em. Not my story to tell, so I’ll stick to what I dug up while lookin’ into them.”

He flicked the phone once, the hollow tap echoing in the silence. “I may have tracked them and got their exact location- but they’re organized, dangerous, and they’re fast. They snatch people, move ‘em, and make sure nobody ever finds a trail after- hell, probably would’ve gotten away with it if not for Sakura reachin’ out to me. That’s why we don’t have time to waste. And if we don’t move today, Sakura’s gone.”

Gone, out of reach, dragged back into the shadows to suffer all over again. 

The sickness curling up his gut threatened to choke him, but he pressed on. His grin- too tight, too sharp- faltered for half a second before twisting into something meaner.

“They’ve got numbers. They’ve got experience. Hundreds of kids disappeared because of ‘em, and they’ve made a fuckin’ fortune doing it.” His tone dropped, bitter as rust. “This ain’t their first run, either. They’ve been busted once before- went silent for a bit, regrouped, and now they’re tryin’ to claw their way back up. That’s what makes ‘em dangerous. Desperate.”

A beat of silence, his teal eyes narrowing, taking in the stricken, pale faces of his audience. 

“They’ll throw everythin’ at us- dirty tricks, blunt weapons, knives, hell, maybe even knock-out drugs if they get the chance- they did with Sakura... So don’t expect a fair fight. Because they won’t fight fair.” His voice cut sharper with every word, grinding against the room’s nerves, making it crystal clear just how serious this was.   

The grip on his phone tightened as he pulled it back, holding it like a lifeline- the screen blinking with Sakura’s location. “But with all of us? Together? They don’t stand a chance. So here’s the deal- if any of that makes you nervous, if the thought of going up against scum like this turns your stomach, then get up and leave now. But if you stay and decide to join?” His grin widened, teeth bared anew, his expression downright predatory. “You’d better be ready to crush these sick freaks before they vanish into the dark.”

By the time his words fell away, the silence in the theater had shifted- less uncertain now, more like a shared anger simmering in the air. A storm on the brink of breaking. A flame tasting gasoline.

Hushed whispers rippled through the hall, low and bristling, carried on the tension Endo had left behind. Faces tightened, jaws set, eyes burning brighter with every breath. And for the first time, Endo realized- really realized- that they had listened. His words. His voice. Theirs now, too.

That was Umemiya’s opening.

He stepped forward again, calm but unyielding, his presence pulling the room back to him. “Thank you, Endo.” His voice carried steady as sky-blue eyes locked on stormy teal. “He’s right. This isn’t a fight we can leave to chance- or to anyone else. You all know as well as I do: the police walked away from Makochi years ago. They don’t come here. Not for break-ins. Not for brawls. Not even for the kids who went missing before Bofurin stood up to protect this place. To them, this district was already written off as lost- unsavable.”

The silence thickened, heavy as iron in the air, pressing on every chest.

“If Sakura is coming back- if we’re ending this ring before they vanish into the dark again- it has to be us. All of us.” His gaze swept the theater, pinning Shishitoren, Roppo-Ichiza, and every Furin alike. “That’s the only way we win. The only way we make sure no one else ends up where Sakura is now.”

For a long, charged moment, the air held. And then, one by one, the weight of the decision broke.

Furin had already chosen- they were in this to the last. But as murmurs rose from Shishitoren, as the men of Roppo-Ichiza lifted their chins in wordless agreement, as Kanji and Suzuri gave the faintest of nods from where they stood- the truth settled like thunder rolling across the distance.

They stood united.

Endo let out a low breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. His gaze flicked sideways- Takiishi’s foot had stilled at last. The fiery-haired man wasn’t spaced out anymore- golden eyes were sharp, scanning the hall, then meeting his. A single, silent nod.

Yeah… They’d get Sakura back.

The shift in the air was all Umemiya needed. He called the leaders forward, and one after another, they stepped onto the stage.

Umemiya, flanked by his two kings, Hiragi and Tsubakino. (Momose and Mizuki had stayed back at Furin, holding down the school with the rest of the students who hadn’t joined in.) Choji and Togame stepped forward for Shishitoren. Kanji and Suzuri represented the Roppo-Ichiza. And, a little apart from them all, Endo stood with his arms folded- his presence less formal, but no less heavy. 

Umemiya laid it out with no wasted words. Two strike teams at the front.

His own would lead: Suo, Tsugeura, Kiryu, Sugishita, Nirei- who’d been handed a first-aid kit, his knuckles white around it while Suo joked he could always use it to smack someone in the face- and a handful of fighters from grades two and three.

Hiragi’s squad followed close: Kaji, his vice presidents, the best of Class 1-1, and the rest of his strongest from various classes and grades. The first wave, built to take the brunt and tear open the way.

Behind them, Togame and Choji would sweep through the interior, dragging out the ones left standing, restraining them with rope scavenged from the theater’s backstage and Shishitoren’s storerooms. Not pretty, but effective.

Meanwhile, Tsubakino, Suzuri, and Kanji would hold the perimeter with a spread of Shishitoren and Furin. Every alley, every crack covered. Making sure that no one had a chance to slip out.

When the eyes in the room turned to him, Endo only let out a short, derisive snort. “I’m no damn leader. Me an’ Takiishi’ll go in head-first. That’s all you need.”

The arrogance might’ve stung if it came from anyone else. But Umemiya only gave a quiet nod. Everyone here knew the truth: those two didn’t need support. Together, they were a force to be reckoned with- A two-man army.

Finally, Umemiya set the last precaution. A phone chain, just like the one that had carried them through the last war against Noroshi. At least two or three members from every team were added into a single chat group- quick updates, calls for backup, confirmation when zones were cleared. Simple. Fast. Reliable.

It wasn’t perfect. But against an enemy like this, it would have to be enough.

It took less than half an hour to finalize the teams and establish the communication net. By 11 a.m., the air in the Cage had shifted from planning to execution. 

A temporary scout team- composed of swift runners from Furin and Shishitoren, as well as Suzuri, slipped out first. The Shishitoren members led the team as they knew these streets better than anyone; this was their turf, their shadows. 

Endo had already pinned the location in the group chat- a large abandoned factory lurking near the northern border- and sent a grainy satellite map that made the place look like a tomb.

While the scouts moved out, the rest of the alliance prepared. The theater hummed with quiet intensity: the tear of tape, the wrap of bandages around knuckles, the low mutter of strategies rehearsed under breath. Nirei and his group knelt near the stage, inventorying their first-aid kits with grim focus. Saline, gauze, tourniquets- everything laid out like a surgeon’s table.

Endo watched from the sidelines, leaning against the stage beside Takiishi. His fingers turned over the empty syringe- the one he’d snatched from the balcony of Sakura’s apartment. The one that had stolen the bi-colored teen’s consciousness in mere minutes- maybe even seconds.

He frowned. Faint residue glinted inside the glass cylinder. And near the base- tiny, raised markings. Not printed. Engraved.

‘The hell…? How did I not notice this earlier?’

His thumb stilled over the bumps. “Hey,” he called out, voice cutting through the low din. “The blind alphabet- what’s it called again?”

A few heads turned. Nirei paused mid-count, looking up with wide, curious eyes. “B-Braille, Endo-san?”

Endo flicked the empty syringe lightly. “Yeah. That.” He held it up for the others to see. “This thing’s got similar bumps on it, I think. It might be a label.”

Nirei’s previous fear of him seemed to evaporate in a wave of hyper-focused curiosity. The small blonde scrambled over, barely remembering to bow before snatching the syringe from Endo’s hand. “May I?!”

Blinking at the suddenly energetic teen who had snatched the syringe from his hand, Endo just shrugs. “Knock yourself out, kid. Just share your findings with the class, yeah?”

“O-of course!” Nirei stuttered out, his attention already locked on the tiny glass cylinder. He pulled out his phone, pulling up a digital Braille reference guide with practiced speed. His brow furrowed in concentration as his fingertips traced the raised dots with a delicate precision that felt out of place in the tense atmosphere.

A minute passed in near silence, the only sound the soft tap of Nirei’s thumb against his screen. Then his breath hitched.

“It’s… it’s not a drug name,” he murmured, his voice losing its nervous edge and turning clinical. “It’s an alphanumeric code. A batch and compound identifier.” He typed furiously, cross-referencing it against a medical database he probably shouldn’t have access to- but then again, this was for Sakura. 

A beat, then his face plummeted.

“Oh.”

Endo tensed immediately, feeling Takiishi twitch next to him. 

“It’s a c-custom synthetic,” he announced, looking up, his uncertain honey-brown eyes catching the light. “Fast-acting dissociative anesthetic. It induces rapid paralysis and unconsciousness…” He swallowed hard. “But it’s cut with a stimulant-based adrenal trigger. It keeps the heart rate elevated under sedation. It’s… it’s for ‘transport’. They use it to keep subjects compliant but physiologically stable during movement... It’s practically designed for trafficking.”

The silence that followed was colder than before. This wasn't just a knock-out drug; it was a tool of the trade, coldly efficient and horrifyingly specific. A few hushed curses rippled through the crowd. 

Endo’s expression didn’t change, but the air around him seemed to drop several degrees. Takiishi’s hand curled into a fist at his side- shaking- barely holding back from lashing out.

But before the grim revelation could fully settle, a series of phones buzzed in unison- a harsh, jarring sound in the heavy quiet.

The scout team was reporting in.

> Temp. Scout (Sako Kōta): Counted four guards on the perimeter. More inside. Windows are dirty but not boarded. Can see movement.

>Temp. Scout (Sako Kōta): They’re moving fast. Looks like they’re preparing to leave.

Endo stared down at the message, the clinical details of the drug forgotten. He barely registered the way his phone trembled in his hand- nor the way those around him sprang into frantic motion.

And not even a second later, a new message appeared. 

>Temp. Scout (Suzuri Shuhei): Vans. Two, just pulled into the back loading bay of the factory. Black, no plates.

...Fuck.

Chapter Text

The theater erupted.  

Shouts, scraping chairs, hurried orders- noise crashing like a wave.

Endo didn’t hear any of it. His eyes stayed glued to the glowing screen in his hand, the words blurring, swimming. Vans. No plates. Preparing to leave. His stomach lurched, a cold twist that locked his body in place.

He had been so sure. So damn sure that with all these people, with this alliance, they’d bring Sakura back. But what if it wouldn’t be enough? What if, even with all of them, they were still too late?

The thought coiled tight around his ribs, suffocating. Panic surged hot in his throat, thick and dizzying. It was weird- it was terrifying. 

‘What the hell am I thinkin’? Why am I second guessin’ myself? It’s fine. It’ll be fine- Sakura will be fine. I’ll make damn sure of it.’

They had Sakura’s location. He shared every scrap of important information with everyone. They had the numbers- the strength. There was no reason for him to freeze up now. This had never happened before. It didn’t make any damn sense. He had to move. 

But what if-?

A hand clamped hard around his arm. 

Endo jolted, stormy teal eyes snapping up to meet scalding gold. 

Takiishi’s grip was brutal, nails biting through fabric, but it cut through the fog like a blade. No words. None needed. Endo knew him too well- learned how to read him years ago. 

And what he saw was raw, undiluted terror, barely masked by a scowl of impatience. 

Takiishi was terrified- deathly terrified- of losing his brother all over again. Of having him ripped away with no chance to get him back, to ever see him again. The emotion was so stark on his usually blank face that it was almost violent. Sickening. Overwhelming.

And seeing it- really seeing it- was what finally snapped Endo back. He couldn’t fall apart. Not now. So he shoved his own panic down, deep, locking it away.

Takiishi’s fingers flexed, digging deeper as his eyes narrowed. 

“Yeah,” Endo gritted out, voice low and painfully raw. “I know, damn it. Let’s go.”

With one final breath, he squared his shoulders and he turned toward the exit. Takiishi fell in step just behind him- a shadow made of fury and fear- as they pushed through the frantic crowd.

Not another second. Not another breath wasted.

Through the chaos, Umemiya’s voice cut through- clean, sharp, absolute. Beneath it, though, the edge of fear, uncertainty, urgency bled through like steel under strain. “Everyone, stick to your leaders. Follow the plan- call for backup when you have to. And let’s get Sakura home!”

Endo and Takiishi were the first out of the Cage.

Outside, the heat hit like a wall, thick with the sharp tang of petrichor- dark clouds rolling close, heavy and ready to break. 

Endo squinted against the light, tongue clicking involuntarily as he strode to his bike and slid the helmet on, visor clicking shut. Takiishi slid wordlessly into the sidecar, not even bothering with his helmet, eyes fixed ahead- burning like twin suns.

Behind them, the others spilled out, falling into place. Umemiya’s team surged to the front, the rest fanning out in disciplined lines behind their assigned leaders, beginning their swift march towards the northern streets. 

With one last glance toward Umemiya- and the silent nod he got in return- it began.

Endo revved the throttle. The bike’s engine snarled, a guttural roar that tore through the early noon. A heartbeat later, the machine lurched forward. Wind whipped past, carrying the sound of dozens of footsteps thundering in their wake- a wave of determined fury moving to rejoin the scout team, surround the factory, and storm the gates.

Overhead, thunder cracked, sharp and rolling, like the sky itself had chosen to bear witness.

Barely a minute later, the northern district rose ahead- bleak, skeletal, windows boarded and streets empty. A perfect hiding place for monsters.

Endo’s grip tightened, knuckles white against the handlebars.

‘Hold on just a little longer, Sakura. We’re almost there.’

-o-O-o-

The first thing that returned was sound.

A low murmur, blurred and warped, pressing against the ringing in his skull. Words bleeding through the static like water through cracks. Then- pressure. Something rough cutting into his skin. Sakura’s sluggish mind pieced it together in fragments.

The muzzle. Back on. Tight across his mouth and nose, digging into raw flesh.

Panic jolted through him, sharp and instinctive, until his sluggish brain caught up- until he registered that voice.

Shuten.

Sakura froze. Forced himself to breathe, slow and shallow. Don’t fight. Don’t move. Focus, or you’ll get hurt.

For a beat, the bi-colored teen hung limp in their grip, eyes closed, straining to anchor himself. To make sense of the hands hauling him, the scrape of his own body being dragged like cargo.

‘What happened? …I was taken-… Nurarihyon, that sick bastard-! He handed me to Shuten-’

Then it slammed back. Cold washed through him as memory flared: Byakko’s body jerking, the deafening crack of a shot- red, so much red.

Bile rose, searing his already aching throat. He forced it down. He couldn’t afford to break now. Not when Byakko’s life still dangled in Shuten’s grip.

So he forced his focus outward. His arms were wrenched up, shoulders screaming under the strain, two sets of gloved hands dragging him like dead weight. Bare feet scraped against the floor, carried along in Shuten’s shadow.

And Shuten was speaking. Calm. Collected. On the phone.

Sakura strained to listen, fighting through the fog in his head, the ringing in his ears.

“…Yes, I know. I sincerely apologize.” Smooth. Almost pleasant. “…My last chance. I won’t waste it.” A pause. His stomach clenched. “…We’ve got them, yes. We’re just getting ready to move.”

Another pause, longer. Then softer, with that grating, false courtesy: “…Of course. You have my gratitude.”

The rest slipped back into static, swallowed by the pounding in his skull.

His skin crawled. Oh, how he hated his voice, hated the guards’ hands digging into him, hated the weakness making his limbs feel foreign, utterly useless. Everything in him screamed to lash out, to tear free, to break something- anything.

But he couldn’t. Not with Byakko’s life still hanging by a thread. Depending on his peaceful cooperation. 

‘Damn it-! Damn it all-’

The thought shattered as the world snapped around him. A shout cut through the air. The slam of a metal door. Footsteps, rapid and heavy, thundering down the hall.

Someone was coming.

Sakura forced himself to remain slack, dead weight in the guards’ grip. It wasn’t hard- he’d perfected that trick years ago. His teeth bit down on his tongue until iron filled his mouth, anchoring him, forcing his thoughts sharp. Still, he couldn’t help cracking one eye open, peering through his lashes.

Shuten halted at the top of a stairwell, turning with a sharp flick of his coat as the runner skidded into view. Another Yurei guard, chest heaving, bowing low in frantic deference.

Shuten’s voice snapped, cold and cutting, obviously disgruntled at the interruption. “What is it?”

The guard straightened just enough to speak, words spilling out quick and breathless. “Sir- outside! There- there’s a crowd! Dozens- young men- They’ve surrounded the entire building!”

The teen’s breath hitched, though he forced his body to stay slack, controlled. ‘A crowd? No way- did Endo and Chi-nii… did they actually bring help?’

Shuten went still. The phone- a damn burner flip phone- snapped shut in his hand, the silence that followed heavier- sharper- than his voice had been.

A second later, another figure stumbled into view- Nurarihyon, sweating, red-faced, his breath coming in wheezing gasps as he nearly tripped on the last step.

“Shuten-dōji-sama!” he rasped, grasping at the wall for support. “They- someone must have- must have tracked him! This shouldn’t have been possible, I made sure to keep those two away and held up by the Yurei! It- it has to be the phone but I disabled it-!”

The words choked off as Shuten’s head turned. Slowly. Deliberately. His single visible eye was a flat, glacial void.

“…What. Phone.”

The hall froze. Even the guards holding Sakura stiffened. Sakura knew that tone. It meant nothing but promised pain and suffering. 

Through his lashes, he watches as Nurarihyon paled, throat bobbing. “Oh! Uh- S-Shirayasha’s device. I- took it, when-”

BANG.

The shot echoed, brutal and sudden. Nurarihyon shrieked, collapsing as a bullet tore through his leg.

“You imbecile!” Shuten’s snarl cut over the sound, his expression devoid of mercy. “Why did I ever make you my right hand when you can’t even remember the risk of failing to destroy foreign devices on sight? Have you forgotten the last time we were nearly exposed because of your negligence?!”

Nurarihyon whimpered pathetically, mouth opening to beg for forgiveness-

BANG.

Another shot- this one ripped through his shoulder, spinning him before he crumpled backward, tumbling down the stairs in a broken heap. His cries echoed sharp and shrill, then dulled as his body hit the bottom.

Sakura silently watched, something bitter flickering inside him. Satisfaction- yes- but tangled with a deeper unease that twisted in his gut. His small grin, hidden beneath the muzzle, lasted only a second before vanishing when Shuten’s gaze snapped back. Cold, sharp, locking with his mismatched eyes before he could shut them.

Shit.

“Well then,” Shuten muttered darkly, pulling out a spare bullet to slide into the pistol before tucking it back into his coat. “It seems we’re leaving earlier than expected. No matter. Bring the Yurei. Gather the other merchandise. We’ll move through the northern exit- the main transport van is ready in the garage.”

Sakura’s heart lurched. They’re leaving. If they got out, if Shuten vanished into the city with him and the others, it would all be over. No one would find them again.

But- …someone was out there. Someone unfamiliar to the Buyers. So it had to be them. His friends- his brother- and Endo. They’d come for him- Endo had promised to save him. 

…Was it really them, though? They shouldn't risk their lives for a freak like him.

Didn’t matter (It did-). Whether it was them or not, he couldn’t let these bastards slip away. He had to fight. Buy whoever was out there time. And he had to be fast- fast enough to stop Shuten from giving the word that would end Byakko’s life. If that happened because of him… he’d never forgive himself.

Panic and adrenaline collided, white-hot, tearing through the lingering fog in his head. He moved before fear could root him down. A violent twist, arms wrenching, and he shoved hard against the hands gripping him. His heel cracked against a shin, his elbow driving sharp into a ribcage. Both guards staggered with grunts of pain, their grip faltering for an instant- an instant that was all he needed.

He spun, body snapping into motion on instinct. His uncovered foot lashed out, burying into the gut of the taller Yurei. The man folded with a strangled cry, crashing backwards down the stairs- straight into Nurarihyon’s crumpled form.

Hope surged. (Traitorously. Too early.)

He reached for the other guard, ready to drop him and finally turn on Shuten- 

And then it shattered.

Because Shuten was faster.

One step, and a gloved hand clamped over the bi-colored teen’s muzzle, forcing his head up so hard his neck popped. The grip was brutal, bruising, leather cutting into raw skin. Shuten leaned in, voice curling like smoke against his ear.

“Don’t.”

Low. Venomous. A promise, not a warning.

“One word from me, and our little Byakko bleeds out. I told you that already, didn’t I?” His tone shifted- lilted- mockingly soft, like a teacher humoring a slow student. “You should know better than to test me, dear Shirayasha. Hm?”

It was sickening. Reminding him all to much of a man- an owner- scolding his disobedient pet. 

And that’s what Shuten made him feel like- a wild, exotic pet to display, not a person. Never a person. It had always been like this. And it would never change. 

Sakura froze. His whole body screamed- begged- to fight, to kick, to tear Shuten’s throat out with his teeth. His mismatched eyes burned, hatred scorching through the fog of the drug still clogging his veins. His teeth ground against leather, but he didn’t move. Couldn’t. Because he saw it: Byakko’s face. Byakko’s blood. Honey eyes wide, glassy- unseeing- 

His screw-up would kill him.

And mercy had never existed in Shuten’s hands.

The man’s grip shifted. His other hand dipped into his coat. (For a split second, the teen feared he’d pull out the gun-) Glass caught the light- sharp, clinical. A syringe.

Sakura’s stomach plummeted. Not again. 

“No more delays,” Shuten murmured, flat and final, driving the needle into the side of his neck with a motion too quick to stop.

Fire exploded under his skin, white-hot, spreading like chains wrapping around his muscles. His gasp was swallowed by the muzzle, his body jerking once before going slack. His vision frayed at the edges, colors bleeding into black.

“Now…” Shuten’s voice smoothed out, almost calm, as though soothing a child. “…stay still. Don’t make this harder than it has to be. I’ve already had to resort to the diluted version, after all- wouldn’t want you breaking before you reach our new stage, would we?”

A strangled growl tore past the muzzle, guttural and raw, but the sick bastard only chuckled, low and amused. Mocking him, always mocking. 

Sakura cursed himself, mismatched eyes burning as a single hot tear slid free. His head lolled as the drug dragged him under, the world slipping further away with each beat of his concerningly slowing heart. 

Gloved hands caught him- the guard he hadn’t managed to knock out- roughly yanking him upright like luggage. His body jerked limply in their harsh grip.

‘Please…’ The thought clawed through the haze, frantic, desperate, his last shred of defiance. ‘Endo. Chi-nii. Someone… find me. Stop them…’

And then the darkness claimed him all over again.

-o-O-o-

The factory’s shadow loomed like a carcass against the rapidly darkening sky.

Umemiya hit the ground running, soles nearly striking sparks as he cut across the cracked asphalt. The scout team had done their job- routes mapped, guards noted- and now the main force surged in.

At the front, Endo and Takiishi were a blur. They’d abandoned the bike at the entrance without a second thought, hurling themselves into the fray. Blunt weapons and knives flashed, but the two dodged and slipped past like water, carving straight through the masked guards at the entry. It was brutal. Bordering on frightening. 

And by the time the enemy raised a cry, the path was already open.

Meanwhile, Hiragi’s squad crashed into the guards outside, the sound of fits meeting flesh rippling through the air, followed by a crack of thunder. Choji and Togame’s group folded in behind, pressing hard to reinforce the line.

All around, the trap snapped shut- Tsubakino, Kanji, Suzuri and the others tightening their hold around the perimeter while Umemiya pushed deeper.

His phone buzzed once in his palm, Endo’s clipped message flashing across the group chat:

>Strike Team A (Endo Yamato): Ground level empty, they’re in the basement. Moving down now. Left split.

>Strike Team B (Umemiya Hajime): Got it. We’ll go right. 

Umemiya shoved the device away with a grunt as he relayed the information to his group. “Let’s get to the basement- we’re gonna take the right!”

They stormed the open path, boots hammering against broken concrete as they cut through the hollowed forum. The place stank of rust and mildew, the walls sagging like bones left to rot. At the far end, a staircase gaped downward, a black path leading into the belly of the factory.

The air grew colder as they descended, damp concrete pressing close. The basement stretched out like a maze- narrow halls, low ceilings, metal doors stacked tight on either side. The perfect warren to lose intruders.

These bastards knew it too. A knot of masked Yurei rounded the corner, shock flashing through their forms at the sight of intruders this deep inside. But shock didn’t save them.

Umemiya didn’t slow. Fury carved his path. He slammed into the first guard shoulder-first, sending him crashing into the wall. His fist snapped into another’s jaw, dropping him before he could raise his blade. The others surged behind him- Sugishita, Suo, Tsugeura, Kiryu, and the group of third years- moving quickly, cutting down anyone who dared block their path.

Behind them, Nirei lagged slightly, clutching the medkit he’d been obsessively sorting through earlier, lips moving like he was muttering instructions to himself.

Footsteps closed in from behind. Umemiya tensed- until Hiragi and a cluster of his group swung into view- a bit winded, but steady. Reinforcements.

Together, the squads carved through the twisting halls, bodies thudding to the floor behind them- left for Choji and Togame’s team to sweep up later.

The corridor bent again, splitting in two. But this time, one side was blocked. A heavy metal door loomed, a group of Yurei guards stationed in front- knives, crowbars, and bats clenched in gloved hands, faces unreadable through the expressionless masks. 

Umemiya’s gaze cut to Hiragi. The sharp-toothed king simply frowned and gave a single nod. No words needed.

They launched at the same time.

Steel clashed and bodies collided, the basement walls rattling with the impact. Umemiya ripped the first knife-wielder clean off his feet, slamming him into the ground with a crunch, while Hiragi carved into the second with terrifying precision. 

To their sides, Sugishita and Suo tag-teamed a guard swinging wild with a crowbar, battering him down with brutal efficiency. Kiryu and Tsugeura broke the one with the bat, dragging him to the floor before his weapon could connect.

The rest of their teams dove into the fray seconds later, some working to knock the guards out, some shielding Nirei as he waited by the corner with the medkit clutched to his chest.

It was over fast- barely a minute before the last Yurei hit the floor, twitching. A few scrapes, a bruise or two, nothing more on their team’s side.

“Make sure they’re all down for good,” Umemiya ordered at one group of second-years, his voice edged with steel. “And you six- scout ahead. Keep the chat open in case you need back-up.” The third-years nodded and peeled off further into the maze of hallways.

Then he turned back to the door, eyeing it.

The reinforced slab groaned under his grip, rust grinding against rust as the hinges screamed in protest- not budging. Figured. 

Furin’s leader squared himself in front of the reinforced door, jaw tight. Without hesitation, he drew back his leg and slammed his heel into the frame.

The impact boomed down the corridor, rust and dust exploding from the hinges as the door shuddered. A second kick split the air, the slab finally giving way with a tortured screech, swinging inward as a cloud of grit rolled out.

He stepped through the haze- then stopped cold.

The room wasn’t empty. 

Earlier, he’d heard the guards whisper something about more “cargo” and “merchandise”, but he hadn’t wanted to believe it.

Against the far wall, a cluster of kids- some older teenagers, others painfully young- sat chained in place, gags of filthy cloth biting into their mouths. Their eyes snapped to him all at once, wide and trembling, a fragile blend of terror and hope.

They were exhausted. Bruised. Terrified. They looked just like the kids back at the orphanage when they’d first been dropped off- broken and waiting for someone to see them. Just like Sakura when he first arrived at Furin. 

But that wasn’t the worst of it.

On a rusted metal table in the center of the room, a pale young man lay bleeding out. His shirt was rucked up, exposing a hastily dressed wound that seeped dark red through the bandages. His breathing was shallow- too shallow.

For a long beat, Umemiya didn’t move. His blue eyes fixed on the writhing chains, then the broken figure on the table.

They hadn’t known. No one had known.

Sakura wasn’t the only one here. And they should have seen this coming.

The silence broke with shuffling behind him. Sugishita stepped forward, planting himself at the doorway to watch for more guards. The others joined his side slowly- Suo, Kiryu, Tsugeura- their earlier fire muted, hesitation written clearly across their faces. Even Hiragi’s sharp gaze shook for a second before hardening again.

The weight of it all pressed down- heavy and suffocating.

For a heartbeat, the scene held them both unsure and frozen. The sight of the children- muzzled, chained, their eyes huge with a fear no one so young should ever know- was a visceral blow. 

Then Furin’s leader took a sharp breath. That was all it took.

The room snapped to life. His team surged forward, hands suddenly gentle as they quickly pulled at rusted locks and knotted gags, the silence breaking into urgent murmurs and the clatter of chains hitting the floor while Umemiya directed Nirei toward the bleeding man on the table with a sharp nod. "Stabilize him as best as you can."

Thankfully, the blonde boy was already scrambling into place, medkit snapping open, his hands surprisingly steady as he began peeling away blood-soaked bandages. Hiragi stood off to the side, grimacing while dialing for an ambulance. 

Seeing as the man was now being cared for, Umemiya strode over to the presumably oldest of the captives- a white-haired woman whose wrists were raw from iron. Even through fear, her gaze burned with defiance.

He carefully removed her muzzle. She coughed, dragging in a deep, ragged breath before her voice cracked out, raw and desperate: “Please- you have to help him-!”

Umemiya placed a steadying hand on her shoulder, his gaze flicking to where Nirei was working, his hands surprisingly steady as he assessed the crudely dressed wound, murmuring apologies each time the man groaned in pain. 

“Don’t worry,” Umemiya reassured her, keeping his voice calm and firm. “We have him. Everything’s going to be okay.”

But the woman shook her head fiercely, desperation sharpening her tone. “I know- I can see! And I’m grateful! But I don’t mean Byakko- I mean Shirayasha!”

The name- the one Endo had mentioned- clicked in Umemiya’s mind. Sakura’s alias. 

His focus sharpened to a razor’s edge, his muscles tensing. “What about him? Where is he?” The question was quick, urgent. Around them, the room seemed to still; Hiragi, Suo, Kiryu, Tsugeura- all eyes locked onto the woman just as Nirei froze, bloodied bandages fully peeled away to reveal Byakko’s wound. 

“Shuten- that fucking bastard- he took Shirayasha with him a little earlier and split from us! He’s got a gun- he already used it on Byakko!” She gestured weakly toward the barely conscious man on the table. “So he’ll definitely use it again!”

Their hearts dropped into their throats.

...A gun?

Five minutes.

Ten.

He was getting tired of this. 

The dim hallways of the basement bled into one another- a maze of rust, concrete, and the dull thud of fists meeting bone. Endo’s knuckles were raw, his breath sharp in his lungs, but the frustration simmering under his skin only burned hotter with every masked guard that dropped at his feet.

Not even the fighting helped.

He shot a glance sideways. Takiishi moved like wildfire- angry, lethal, every strike meant to end. Golden eyes narrowed, jaw set, his whole body carried a fury that mirrored Endo’s own. Every wasted second felt like another failure.

Then-

Footsteps ahead. Quick. Rushed. Someone was fleeing from them. 

The two braced- only to hear a crash. A sharp, splintering sound that rattled down the corridor. They didn’t hesitate, boots pounding against the concrete until the hallway opened into a wider chamber.

A group of guards had clustered in front of a reinforced door, brandishing crowbars and bats like they had any real chance.

Endo felt a bitter scoff crawl up his throat. Damn amateurs.

He didn’t hold back. Neither did Takiishi. The guards crumpled pitifully fast (not that he was complaining, but seriously?), struck aside with ruthless precision, their crowbars and bats clattering uselessly across the floor, drowned out by the heavy thud of fists meeting flesh.

Even when his phone buzzed in his pocket, Endo ignored it. His teal gaze had already locked on the barricaded door, taking in the thick chain looped through its frame. Whatever was behind it had to be worth this much defense. 

‘Now… what to do about those cha-’

A fiery blur sped past him. 

Takiishi didn’t wait. One brutal kick and the metal shrieked, rusted hinges tearing loose. The door slammed to the floor with a shattering bang, the impact rattling the walls.

‘...Nevermind. That’s that problem taken care of.’

Dust rose in a choking wave, the air thick and hazy. The tattooed man lifted his arm against it, vision straining through the cloud. The fluorescent light overhead flickered weakly, buzzing, throwing jagged shadows across the room.

Slowly, the haze began to settle.

Shapes emerged.

At first- chains. Heavy links running across the floor like veins. Then- dress shoes. A tall figure standing in the middle of it all.

And slumped in front of that figure, bound to a rotting wooden chair, his lower face half-hidden behind a muzzle- 

Sakura.

For half a heartbeat, Endo almost let himself breathe. Relief, sharp and blinding, threatened to break through his chest. He’s here. He’s alive. We aren't too late. 

But the sight strangled that breath in his throat.

The bi-colored teen’s mismatched eyes were dull, glassy, barely clinging to focus. His body sagged in the ropes, too limp, too quiet. Drugged. 

And pressed to his temple, gleaming cold beneath the faltering light- 

A gun.

The sight slammed through Endo’s skull, brutal and merciless- burning itself into his mind. His breath caught, body locking where he stood. Takiishi, beside him, went rigid. Neither of them moved. Neither dared to.

The gun’s muzzle gleamed steady in the flickering light, pressed hard against Sakura’s head. One wrong step- one misfire- and it was over.

‘Is it real?’ The thought scraped across Endo’s mind like broken glass. ‘Does it matter?’ Judging by the look of the tall man holding it, it didn’t.

Shuten-dōji. The leader of the Faceless Buyers. 

Endo recognized him instantly from the case files- the photos, the names he’d pored over, the bastard who had caused so much suffering and then ended up being freed by his accomplices. And now here he was, smiling thin and sharp, as though the whole scene belonged to him.

Endo’s jaw tightened. How the hell did this bastard even get a gun? Japan bled regulations tighter than steel- but with his connections, his money- yeah, it was possible. Too possible.

‘God fuckin’ damn it.’

His body was ready to lunge, muscles coiled tight, but one glance at the deadly weapon froze him all over again. He couldn’t risk it. Not with Sakura like that.

Next to him, Takiishi was worse. The man’s hands twitched at his sides, golden eyes blazing near-feral. But his face was blank, empty- too blank. He was trembling, like an inferno trapped inside a cage. His gaze didn’t leave his little brother, slumped and glazed-eyed in that chair.

Shuten broke the silence with a low chuckle, tilting his head as though amused by their hesitation. The sound made Endo’s jaw clench, his fists itching to crack bone.

“Well, well. Look at this. A couple of little brats who don’t know their place.” His voice was slick, venom wrapped in silk. He shifted slightly, the barrel never leaving Sakura’s temple. 

Unable to suppress it, Endo felt his lip curl in annoyance. ‘Great. Here comes the bad-guy monologue.’

“I can’t say I’m not impressed, though. Rallying this many people and storming the building all on your own? No one has managed that before- although we were much more prepared back then.” His grin sharpened, black eyes gleaming under the flickering light. “And from that look, I’d wager you already know who I am?”

Teal eyes narrowed, his glare locking onto the well-dressed man. But he didn’t answer. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Shuten went on, voice flattening, the humor draining away. “No matter. Do you have any idea what you’ve done? My plans- years in the making- ruined. And for what? For this?” He shoved Sakura’s chair with the toe of his shoe, sending the boy’s limp frame jerking against the ropes. “A freak you think belongs to you?”

A low growl built in his throat before he spat back, voice rough but controlled, “He’s not yours. He was never yours. And who the hell are you to call anyone a freak when you’re the one treatin’ people like they’re toys for sale?”

It was part snarl, part strategy. Keep him talking. Anything to loosen that gun from Sakura’s temple.

Shuten’s smile widened, warped and ugly. He leaned closer, pressing the barrel harder against Sakura’s head until the boy’s bi-colored hair flattened beneath the steel. “Not mine?” His tone dipped low, sick with mockery. “You children really don’t understand how this works. Toys?” 

He let out a soft, chilling laugh, which only made Endo want to punch him more-. “This isn’t a game. This is commerce. I find rare, beautiful things that people are willing to pay a fortune for. I give them what they want. And he-,” the bastard hummed, nudging Sakura’s chair again with a contemptuous flick of his foot, “-is a commodity. My most promising centerpiece. And you are trespassing on a legacy you cannot begin to comprehend.”

Endo hissed under his breath. Every muscle screamed at him to move, but he forced himself still. “Then enlighten me about it all, why don’t ya’?” Play along. Distract him. 

“Well then- you don’t believe he’s a freak, yes?” Shuten questioned, tilting his head as if Endo had said something profoundly naive. “Look at him. Two different eyes, two different colors of hair- a genetic accident. A mistake. I didn’t create his value. I merely recognized it. His own family saw it first- how wrong and unnatural he is… And we were more than happy to take him off their hands.”

The words ripped Takiishi out of his trance. His chest heaved, golden eyes blazing, while a low, animal sound built in his throat.

Endo’s arm shot out and stopped him, fingers pressing into Takiishi’s shoulder without breaking his glare on the trafficking leader. “Don’t,” he hissed, raw and tight with rising panic.

“Wise,” The bastard purred. His grip on the gun didn’t waver. “You at least understand the stakes.” He tilted his head, as if indulging them in a bargain. “Now then. Here is what’s going to happen. You two will turn around, walk out of this room, and tell your little friends to stand down. Do that, and I will leave- with my centerpieces, and only one van. The rest of the vehicles and guards are all yours. But if you don’t-”

He pushed the metal barrel harder into Sakura’s temple. The teen’s head lolled under the pressure, then jerked up, mismatched eyes still glassy but tracking them.

“…then I paint the walls with his pretty little head.” Shuten’s voice was almost casual, like discussing a price. “As much as it would pain me to put down not only a priceless centerpiece, but also my favorite… he’s become more trouble than he’s worth. And I don’t have time for delays.” His smile thinned. “And I assume you’d like to keep breathing, too. Understand?”

It was an ultimatum. A final decision handed to them. And Endo knew the bastard wasn’t bluffing- not with how steady he held the gun, his finger brushing the trigger.

Teal eyes narrowed. Endo forced a sneer, gambling everything on the only card left. Buy more time. 

“That thing even real?” he questioned, voice laced with scorn as his accent thickened. “Or just another prop you wave around ta’ scare people?”

For a second, time seemed to hold its breath. Dust drifted in the flickering light, every mote hanging heavy in the still air. No one moved.

“You really wish to find out, brat?” Shuten’s tone was low.

Yet his sickening smile didn’t falter. 

It stretched.

BANG.

The shot cracked like thunder.

Both Endo and Takiishi stumbled back, hearts lurching as stone chips spat up from the floor at their feet. Too close. Way too close.

‘Shit- shit- fuck.’ That was real. Definitely real. He’d already guessed as much, but hearing it- feeling it slam into the concrete centimeters from his boots- drove the point like a nail into his skull.. ‘Okay- focus. It looks like a six-cylinder pistol. How many bullets are loaded? Just what’s in the gun, or does he have more?’

His phone buzzed again. And again. A frantic vibration drilling into his ribs. He didn’t dare look. One flicker of distraction could screw them over.

What the hell were they supposed to do?

The echo of the gunshot rattled through the concrete chamber, stretching thin and sharp in the stale air.

On the chair, Sakura jerked. His glazed eyes fluttered, pupils struggling to focus, the fog of the drug peeling back under the spike of adrenaline. His chest heaved once, twice, before his gaze caught- fixed on them. 

For a heartbeat, disbelief shone through the haze in his mind. Chi-nii and Endo. Standing there. Right in front of him.

‘No… it’s just a hallucination. Has to be. Right?’

The Buyers had done this before- drugged him senseless when he fought too hard, when he screamed too loud. He knew the way it twisted his mind, conjured images that weren’t real. He’d lived it. Too many times.

But this- this felt different.

“Time’s running out,” Shuten crooned from beside him. His finger toyed against the trigger, voice dripping with mock patience. “Better make your decision quickly.”

Sakura’s breath hitched.

‘Oh... they’re real.’

Endo stood tense, his usual sharp smirk nowhere in sight. His face was grim, bleak in a way Sakura had never seen before. Always so self-assured, always so scathing with his words- but now? He looked cornered. Almost desperate.

Sakura didn’t like it. 

And Chika- his brother- The teen’s heart lurched at the sight of him. Golden eyes wide, burning, but frozen. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, shoulders tight as if locked in place by invisible chains. The same brother who was always fire, always motion, now rooted to the spot by sheer terror.

Sakura hated it. 

It was strange. Wrong. Alien. But how could he blame them? Even the strongest people couldn’t stay calm with a gun pointed at someone they liked loved.

The silence stretched, thin and brittle as glass. Shuten’s patience was clearly running out. His finger tapped once, twice against the trigger- a silent, deadly countdown.

Endo’s mind raced, teal eyes flicking from the gun to Sakura’s pale face. He had to say something- anything- to stall. “Y’know,” he drawled, forcing a lazy, hollow smirk, “for a guy with a ‘priceless centerpiece,’ you’ve got a real shitty way of showin’ affec-”

“Enough.”

Shuten’s voice cut through the air, flat and final. The mockery was gone, replaced by something cold and impatient. “I am growing tired of this. Make your choice. Now.”

“Wait-” Endo snapped, a desperate attempt to buy more time. But Shuten’s dark eyes narrowed, already seeing through the ploy. His finger curled tighter around the trigger- 

A feral growl ripped through the air.

And Takiishi snapped. 

He didn’t care anymore. 

For too long he’d stood still, watching, waiting, burning alive behind his ribs. Patience snapped like brittle glass. The moment Chika saw the man’s- not bothering to remember the name- finger twitch against the trigger again, the world tunneled red. 

His body moved without thought, every nerve screaming one truth: 'I will not watch my little brother die.'

Molten gold eyes locked, unblinking, on the gun as it whipped toward him. He didn’t care. Let it come- let it hit him. He’d still be fast enough to tear the man’s throat out.

Better him than Haru. 

The gun swung.

Sakura’s heart seized. Seeing it turn toward his brother snapped something loose inside him. Chika was going to get shot- Pushing himself into harm's way for Sakura.  

His breaths rasped harsh and shallow through the muzzle. He thrashed, teeth clenching until his jaw ached. The fraying ropes sawed deeper into his raw wrists, but he pulled harder, harder- ignoring the burn, the blood, the scream of protesting wood. The chair groaned under his weight, splinters biting into his palms where he braced.

The haze of drugs clung stubbornly, but adrenaline roared louder. Just one second- just one chance-!

With a final, wrenching twist, the ropes gave.

The teen lurched forward, vision swimming, the broken chair legs screeching across the concrete before shattering apart. His body crashed into Shuten, the impact cracking through the room.

The gun jolted wide- 

BANG.

The shot deafened in the small chamber, sparking harmlessly off the wall. The ringing in their ears hadn’t even faded before Endo kicked into gear and lunged, teal eyes blazing.

“Over here, bastard!” he snarled, diving in fast and low, forcing Shuten’s attention away.

The trafficker staggered, off-balance just long enough for Sakura to hurl himself forward once more. The remaining ropes tore bloody lines into his wrists, but adrenaline made him merciless- he slammed into Shuten with his shoulder, teeth clenched behind the muzzle. 

The impact cracked, driving the older man back a step, his head snapping sideways as Sakura’s freed fist- sloppy but furious- connected square with his jaw.

Cartilage crunched. Blood burst from Shuten’s nose as he reeled, gun swinging wildly.

“Go!” Endo barked, seizing Sakura by the arm before the boy collapsed outright, shoving him toward Takiishi. The fiery-haired man caught his little brother in a rush, golden eyes burning as he pulled him behind his frame.

But Shuten was far from down.

With a ragged growl, the trafficker righted himself, blood slicking his upper lip, grin now red and feral. His hand clenched tighter on the pistol- 

Takiishi surged forward, no hesitation left, muscles coiled like a predator ready to kill. Shuten whipped the gun up on instinct- 

BANG.

The chamber thundered again. The bullet screamed past, gouging sparks from the concrete by the door. The air burned hot where it had skimmed so close to Sakura’s head. The bi-colored teen flinched violently, knees buckling- 

Endo’s arm was already there, catching him, steadying him against his chest. “Shit-!”

The sound barely left his mouth before Takiishi struck.

With merciless precision, Chika slammed into the armed man, his hand wrenching the pistol sideways with brutal strength. Bone ground against metal as he forced it from the bastard’s grip. The weapon clattered across the floor, out of reach.

Chika's fist followed, crashing into the bloody face with such force the trafficker’s head snapped back, a tooth flying free and clinking on the concrete.

The man crumpled, collapsing into dead weight, groaning low as his body hit the floor.

Breathing hard, the fiery-haired man stood over him, chest heaving, blood flecked across his knuckles. His boot shifted- ready to cave in the bastard’s ribs, to leave him broken and choking on his own rotten blood- 

“Sakura!”

Endo’s voice cut through sharp. Not angry- panicked.

Chika spun- and saw Haru sagging in Endo’s grip. The boy’s head lolled weakly against the tattooed man’s chest, his glazed eyes half-lidded. Endo’s hand cupped his forehead, cursing under his breath.

“Fuck. He’s burnin’ up.”

The mismatched teen gave a soft, strangled groan, face scrunching up while he squirmed.

“Hey, hey- easy, I’ve gotcha’.” Endo’s voice dropped low, softer than either of them had ever heard it. He adjusted his hold, keeping Haru upright against his chest. The boy stirred weakly, stubborn even through the fever’s haze- a side effect of the drug.

His little brother tried to shove the tattooed man away with trembling arms, breath hitching in sharp, broken pulls. When that failed, his hands rose shakily, fingers raw and bleeding as they clawed at the muzzle digging into his skin.

“Oi- stop that.” Endo caught his injured wrists gently, holding them still. He then turned Sakura’s face, fumbling with the latch until the mechanism snapped loose. The metal dropped with a dull clatter onto the floor- Endo didn’t even look before he flung the damn thing aside. It skittered across the concrete, coming to rest against the unmoving body of the trafficker.

Chika’s fury slowly dimmed, the fire in his chest giving way to something heavier. He crouched down fast, shoulders tight, gaze raking over his brother. Anger bled into guilt, into raw, shaking relief. ‘He’s okay. Haru’s okay.’

The teen sucked in a ragged breath, coughing as air filled his lungs fully for the first time in hours. His mismatched eyes brimmed faintly, misting over as adrenaline left him hollow and shaking.

“T-took you guys long ‘nough.” His voice was a scrape, half a joke, half a plea. Weak. Fraying. His clammy face overlapped with an older memory- another time, when Haru had been sick- so sick that Chika had stolen medicine to keep his brother from dying.

Chika’s heart cracked, his hands suddenly feeling numb. He pushed the memory aside as he reached forward, throat burning.

He wanted to apologize- wanted to promise he’d never let him hurt again-

The feelings overwhelmed him, choking him up, but he forced himself past it. Because he needed him to know- needed his little brother to understand just how important he was, how much Chika loved and adored him-

“Haru… I’m so-”

Click.

The sound sliced through the chamber. Soft. Metallic. Final.

Every muscle locked. The air froze.

From the corner of their vision, Shuten moved. Slowly. Deliberately. Blood streamed down his broken nose, dripping off his chin, his teeth bared in a crimson snarl. One hand pressed against the floor, steadying him. The other- oh god, the other- already had the pistol leveled.

The barrel pointed dead-center at them.

“…you think… you’ve won?” Shuten’s voice was shredded, wet with blood, but venom burned through every ragged word. “You brats… you worthless little pests…” His smile stretched, grotesque, crimson-stained, the gleam in his black eyes cracked wide with madness.

“You ruined it!” His voice pitched, ragged and wild. “Everything-! Years of planning, every deal, every coin, every favor- I had it perfect! And now?” His hand trembled on the gun, not from weakness, but from fury. “Now it’s ash- because of you! Because of him!” 

He spat down at Sakura, teeth flashing through the blood. “That ungrateful freak ruined me after everything I did for him! After I saw his value and saved him from those that couldn’t see his worth!”

He was raving now, unraveling thread by thread, frothing with hate. His finger tightened on the trigger, knuckle white against the steel.

Endo’s arm instinctively curled tighter around Sakura, pulling the boy close. Across from him, Takiishi squared his shoulders, shifting forward, every line of his body coiled to shield them. His golden eyes blazed, promising violence.

But Sakura… Sakura couldn’t look at them. His gaze tunneled past Endo’s grip, past his brother- locked on the muzzle gleaming under the faltering light.

His pulse hammered in his ears. The room narrowed to the trembling line of Shuten’s arm. And through the fog, through the pounding in his skull, his thoughts clung to numbers.

He’d been counting.

Six shots.

The one Shuten had used on Byakko.

Then two, three- fired at Nurarihyon before he added one more into the chamber.

Four- the warning shot.

Five, six- wasted, missed, aimed at Endo, Chika and him.

One singular bullet left.

Shuten didn’t seem to have more- otherwise, he’d already have reloaded. This was it. The last one.

And now, with the gun leveled at Endo and Takiishi- his saviors, his world- Sakura knew they wouldn’t be fast enough to dodge. Couldn’t redirect it. Couldn’t stop it.

Shuten’s lips twisted into a crimson snarl. “If I go down…” he rasped, voice shredded, “…I’ll drag at least one of you brats straight to hell with me.”

Sakura’s body moved before his mind caught up.

Time fractured. His raw hands shoved against Endo’s chest, dragging him and Chika sideways just as the Shuten’s finger clenched down.

He wasn’t fast enough to save himself. But they would be okay. They’d live.

That was all that mattered.

“HARU-!” Takiishi’s scream tore through the air, raw and shattered.

Wide, horrified gold and teal met mismatched eyes- soft, resigned, steady even through the haze.

And for one fleeting instant, Sakura smiled.

BANG.

Chapter Text

A few minutes earlier…

>Strike Team B (Umemiya Hajime): There’s seven more captives besides Sakura. A gun has been mentioned, and one of them has been shot. Clear a path for the ambulance once it arrives. 

>Strike Team C (Togame Jo): A gun? Shit. We’re done here and are moving further in to help out. 

>Defense Team A (Nakamura Kanji): Everything is handled on the east and south side. 

>Defense Team B (Tsubakino Tasuku): North and west are clear, too. Do you need us to join you?

>Strike Team B (Umemiya Hajime): Understood. Defense- hold your positions for now.

>Strike Team B (Umemiya Hajime): Strike Team A, please respond. Do you need backup?

>Defense Team B (Tsubakino Tasuku): Has Sakura been found?

>Strike Team B (Umemiya Hajime): Not yet. 

The silence in the storage room was thick, broken only by the ragged breaths of the freed captives and the soft, urgent rustle of Nirei working over Byakko. The man’s shallow gasps scraped the air, every one a reminder that time was running short.

Umemiya’s phone felt heavy in his hand, the screen dark and silent. No new messages. No response from Endo. Nothing. He tightened his grip until the edge dug into his palm, but the knot in his chest wouldn’t ease.

They’d done what they could here- tearing through chains and ropes, pulling the captives out of their restraints, gathering them close under his group’s watch. Relief should have come with every lock snapped, every frightened face pulled into safety. But it didn’t. Not when Sakura was still missing. Not when Endo wasn’t answering.

The rescued muttered in hushed voices, the older ones soothing the younger, children clinging to their sleeves. Fear still clung to the walls, heavy and sour, impossible to scrub out. And beneath it, Yuki’s earlier warning clawed at the back of Umemiya’s mind.

The leader- Shuten- had a gun. He’d already used it on Byakko. There was no reason to think he wouldn’t fire again.

Every unanswered buzz of his phone made the thought dig deeper into his ribs.

The door creaked open a few minutes later, boots scuffing against the concrete. Togame appeared with a handful of Shishitoren and Furin members in tow, their sleeves rolled and knuckles scraped raw. Choji wasn’t with them, as he’d split off to take down a cluster of guards farther down the maze of halls- at least that’s what a group member had reported over the chat.

“All clear on our end,” Togame reported, brushing dust from his jacket. Behind him, two Shishitoren members dragged a pair of unconscious guards, binding their wrists with rough cord before dropping them against the wall. “No one’s left standing between here and the exit.”

Relief should have eased the weight crushing Umemiya’s chest. Instead, his gaze slid to the table where Byakko lay pale and unmoving, Nirei standing at his side, hands firm as he pressed a fresh patch over the wound. Blood smeared across the man’s stomach, pooled dark on the metal table beneath. A couple of the newcomers grimaced at the sight, one muttering a curse under their breath.

Umemiya gave a tight nod, redirecting his focus. “Good. Then help me get these people out.”

Togame agreed without hesitation, already moving to corral the freed captives. Umemiya crouched briefly, meeting the wide, cautious, yet hopeful eyes staring back at him. “You’re safe now. We’ll get you outside, so make sure to stick close.”

Two golden-haired siblings- twins, maybe- exchanged a quick look before steadying the two younger boys beside them, bracing their shaky legs with quiet determination. 

Yuki bent instead, lifting the smallest girl into her arms. The child blinked up at them with curious mismatched eyes- not the night-and-sun colors of Sakura’s, but deep aqua and forest green. Kodama. That was the name Yuki had called her earlier.

“Is… Byakko-nii going to be okay?” she rasped, voice fragile.

Nirei’s head snapped up from where he was working, words tumbling out too fast, too earnest. “I-I’ve managed to stop most of the bleeding. And with the ambulance on the way, he’ll be fine. I promise!”

The little girl’s gaze flicked to him, weighing his words, before settling back on Umemiya. She sagged against Yuki’s shoulder, whispering, “Okay… Thank you. And… big brother Shirayasha?”

It made him pause- just for a heartbeat- but he didn’t let it show. Instead, he met her eyes squarely, steady and certain. “We’ll find Sakura. I won’t let anything happen to him- or let him be taken.” He wouldn’t. Furin couldn’t lose Sakura. 

Kodama nodded slowly at that, then tugged at Yuki’s collar, voice small but sure. “Shirayasha’s real name is Sakura, Yuki-nee! Like the pretty pink tree!”

Yuki huffed a quiet laugh and pressed a kiss to the top of the girl’s head. Over her shoulder, she shot Umemiya a grateful smile.

He returned it softly before rising again, eyes tracking Hiragi and Togame as they eased Byakko between them with painstaking care, Nirei following close with the med-kit clutched against his chest. The rest of the Shishitoren and Furin began shepherding the rescued toward the door, voices low but steady as they guided the freed captives forward.

They hadn’t made it three steps when a muffled crack ripped down the corridor.

Umemiya’s heart stuttered, then dropped like stone.

A gunshot.

Everyone froze. For a breath. For two. 

The sound still echoed, bouncing off the concrete walls- Then the room exploded into motion. 

Shishitoren’s second in command shifted fast, slipping under Byakko’s other arm to bear his weight with Hiragi. Between the two of them, they hauled the injured blonde up from the blood-streaked table, careful but urgent. Nirei darted after them, clutching the med-kit tight against his chest, honey-brown eyes glued to the makeshift bandage to make sure it held.

“Move!” Togame snapped, sharp as a whip even with Byakko’s weight dragging at him. “Get the others out- hurry!”

The Shishitoren and Furin members responded instantly, herding the freed captives toward the door. The youngest stumbled, clutching at older sleeves, but were pulled along by firm hands and steady voices.

Umemiya caught Togame’s green eye as they passed. A silent agreement.

He then pivoted sharply, already signaling Suo, Sugishita, Tsugeura, and Kiryu. “You four, with me.”

Togame’s voice chased after them: “Be careful!”

“Yeah,” Umemiya threw back, the word short and clipped, before the five of them broke into a run, vanishing down the opposite hallway. “And don’t you dare do anything stupid!” Hiragi’s voice echoed after them, half-scolding, half-pleading.

The remaining members stayed behind, swiftly dragging the bound Yurei guards into a corner and slamming the door shut on them.

Umemiya’s pulse thundered in his ears as he ran, his group not far behind. 

He didn’t know who that bullet had been meant for- or if it had already found them.

‘Please… everyone, be alright.’

-o-O-o-

Red.

So much red.

It hit the ground in heavy splatters, seeping across the cold concrete in a bloom too vivid, too wrong. 

For a breathless heartbeat, neither Endo nor Takiishi moved. The gun’s echo still rang in their skulls, louder than the pounding in their chests.

Sakura staggered once- a puppet-like jerk- then twice, his hand fluttering weakly toward his stomach as if to catch the pain before it could escape. Then he crumpled. His body folded in on itself with a terrible, final softness, collapsing to the floor in a boneless, lifeless heap.

He didn’t get back up again.

“...Haru?” 

The name tore from Chika’s throat, thin and shredded, a sound of pure, disbelieving denial. His legs carried him forward before his mind could process the image, his golden eyes wide and unblinking. He skidded to his knees, the impact jarring, and reached for his brother.

“Shit- shit-! Takiishi-!” Endo’s voice cracked sharp, undiluted panic shredding the edges of his usual drawl.

“I know!” Chika’s response was a raw snap, his composure shattering into a million pieces as his hands, usually so steady, hovered uselessly. His little brother was bleeding- bleeding out on cold tile, blood welling hot and fast through his white shirt. Too fast. Too much.

The bullet had hit low, burrowed deep into his abdomen. He hadn’t seen an exit wound- The damage was festering inside, shredded tissue and broken vessels offering no mercy.

A rough shove from Endo had the fiery-haired man finally pressing his hands down, applying desperate pressure which made the bi-colored teen’s entire body jerk violently, a strangled sob breaking past the blood on his lips.

“S-Stay with me- stay with me, Haru-”

Endo dropped beside them, hands already fumbling at his pockets, teal eyes darting everywhere, anywhere, for something useful. His fingers shook too hard to be steady. “Fuck, he’s- he’s losin’ too much- Scheiße! I don’t have anythin’ to-...!”

The boy’s mismatched eyes fluttered, cloudy with pain and haze. His breaths hitched shallow, the drugs still fogging his veins, the wound pulling him down faster.

Behind them, laughter cracked the air. Low at first, then growing, splitting at the seams into something jagged and unhinged. Shuten’s body trembled with it, blood bubbling from his broken nose and dripping onto the concrete. The gun clattered from his hand, empty, useless- but he didn’t care. He laughed like a man already burning, reveling in the fire as long as it took them with him.

Both men froze. Rage, white-hot and absolute, seared through the haze of their panic. That laugh- mocking, choking, sick- curdled into something unbearable.

Chika moved first. His jaw locked, golden eyes narrowing to molten slits. Wordless, he seized Endo’s wrist, dragging his hand down over Haru’s wound. Sticky warmth met their palms, hot blood seeping fast through broken flesh.

“Hold it,” he rasped, voice low, shaking with the force of what he barely contained.

Endo’s gaze snapped up- wide, frantic- but Chika was already pulling away. Rising to his feet, shoulders squared, every line of him carved in fury.

He wouldn’t let this bastard walk away- Wouldn’t let him breathe another breath in a world where Haru bled on the floor. He’d finish it. 

Endo’s throat burned with the need to follow, to wrap his hands around Shuten’s throat and squeeze until the sick light guttered out of his eyes. But one glance at Sakura’s clammy face, his shallow breaths, pinned him in place. No- Takiishi would do it. Takiishi would tear the monster apart.

Grinding his teeth, Endo carefully hauled the boy closer, cradling him against his chest. His tattooed hand pressed down hard on the wound, blood slicking his fingers. He bent low, his voice soft, a desperate counterpoint to the venom in his veins.

“You’re fine, Sakura. I’ve got you,” he whispered, shushing every ragged whimper that tore from Sakura’s throat. “Takiishi’s takin’ care of that bastard. You just stay with me, yeah? You’re gonna be okay.” 

Shifting his weight, Endo lifted the teen just enough to slide his free hand along his back- desperate to feel what his eyes had failed to find. His fingers swept across the fabric once, twice. His stomach dropped, a cold void opening inside him.

There was no exit wound. The bullet was still inside. 

This was bad. So fucking bad.

Within his grasp, the boy sobbed, the sound raw and desperate. His hands clawed weakly at Endo’s shirt, nails scraping fabric as his body jolted with every wave of agonizing pain.

“Fuck- easy, easy-” Endo’s voice cracked sharp, trying to soothe but trembling too much to steady. His chest seized with the helpless realization: ‘How the hell am I supposed to move him like this?’ Every little shift made Sakura twitch- made those broken sounds tear loose... 

‘Damn it- stop the bleedin’ first.’ That was all he could do. One step at a time.

Across the chamber, bone snapped with a sick crack, followed by Shuten’s ragged yell- then another wet crunch. Chaos, violence, fury- all of it blurred into background noise. Endo didn’t look. Didn’t need to. Takiishi was handling it. He’d trusted him with Sakura, and Endo wasn’t about to break that trust.

His grip tightened, pressing harder against the wound even as his clothes grew heavy, soaking through with blood. “Stay with me,” he muttered, softer this time, voice scraping thin. It wasn’t enough. Just pressing down wasn’t going to be enough.

Panic spiked, sharp and blinding, but instinct cut through it. Endo made a split-second decision. He eased Sakura back against the concrete floor for only a heartbeat, the boy's head lolling weakly, as he tore furiously at the hem of his own shirt. Fabric ripped with a sharp sound, yielding a long, uneven strip.

The teen’s chest hitched when Endo lifted his blood-soaked shirt. Mismatched eyes, glassy and rimmed red, fought to lock onto his, flickering in and out like a dying flame. Still trying. Still clinging. Always the fighter.

Teal eyes dropped to the wound- and nearly gagged. Blood pulsed out in sick, hot bursts, flesh torn open to reveal what no one should ever have to see. His stomach lurched. Focus. Focus-!

He pressed the makeshift bandage down, winding it tight around Sakura's midsection. Each tug drew a muffled sob or a choked gasp from the boy’s throat. A part of him hoped, desperately, that the remaining drugs still in Sakura's system were blunting the edge of this fresh agony. 

Endo murmured a stream of ragged apologies- "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, just a little more"- his voice breaking, but his hands never faltered until the fabric was knotted firmly over the source of the bleeding. 

Only then did he gather the teen back into his arms, pulling him close against his chest. His jaw locked, tight with determination as he forced a hand up to brush through messy two-toned hair, sweeping the damp strands back from his clammy forehead. His other hand returned to its place, pressing hard over the bandaged wound. He could already feel it seeping through, warmth spreading stubbornly against his palm.

The mismatched boy in his grasp was still breathing hard, each shallow drag of air shuddering through his chest, flinching violently with every cry and sickening crunch of bone from the other side of the room. It rattled him, every sound tearing at frayed nerves, forcing his lungs to strain against the weight of panic.

‘Not good. He’s already overwhelmed as is...’

Endo frowned, his own heart hammering, before he carefully adjusted his hold, pulling Sakura higher into his lap. He cradled the boy’s pale face with his free hand, thumb brushing the clammy skin of his cheek.

“Hey. Focus on me.” His voice broke low, firm but trembling at the edges. “You’re breathin’ too fast ‘n harsh. You gotta slow it down for me, yeah?”

Sakura’s mismatched eyes blinked, then drifted- cloudy and unfocused. His chest heaved, a pitiful sob wobbling out of him, slurred by the pain. “S’rry… hurtss…”

Relief stabbed through Endo- if only that Sakura could still answer. He leaned in, forehead nearly touching the teen’s, teal eyes fixed on those hazy ones. “Listen- just… try and follow me, okay?” He inhaled, slow and exaggerated, then let it out long and measured. “In… out… that’s it. With me. You’ve got this.”

It was clumsy, but it was something. He’d taught himself this- looked it up after the first time he’d watched Sakura cave under a panic attack- promising he wouldn’t be useless again. And now, with blood slick under his palm, he clung to the method like a rope.

Endo took another deliberate breath, keeping his gaze on Sakura’s glassy, pain-rimmed eyes and willing him to mirror the rhythm. It took a few shuddered tries- hiccups cut against the agony- but slowly the frantic gasps evened out into something shallower, less self-destructive. Still shaky. Still fragile. But it was a small victory.

“Good job. Just keep that pace, alright?” Endo’s voice dropped softer, gentler, coaxing like he was speaking to glass. He exhaled almost silently, relief cutting through his ribs for half a second, then dragged his focus back to the wound. Pressure- don’t let it slip, don’t let him slip.

Out of habit, his gaze flicked to the far end of the room. Takiishi had Shuten by the collar, dragging him upright only to throw him back down again, forcing him to fight for every breath. The bastard’s face was already a ruined mess- swollen, bleeding, unrecognizable from where he’d been beaten with what seemed to be some kind of fuel canister. Exactly what he deserved.

But Endo didn’t linger. He forced himself to finally dig his phone out with a blood-slick hand, thumb shaking as he pulled up the group chat. His message was quick, clipped, as if spitting words faster might make them truer:

>Strike Team A (Endo Yamato): Sakura’s been hit. Abdominal gunshot. We need an ambulance asap.

He hesitated, breath stuttering. His thumb hovered, half a second from typing out another desperate plea- ‘Someone bring a med kit, anything, please-’

A faint brush pulled his attention down. Trembling fingers pressed against his wrist- the very one pressing down on the wound.

His chest clenched as he slowly lowered his phone. “Sakura…?”

The teen’s shaky hand slid, fumbling, until his fingertips ghosted over the ink on Endo’s skin. His touch was weak, almost not there, but the intent was clear. He traced the shapes shakily, mismatched eyes half-lidded and swimming, lips moving around slurred sounds.

“They’re… r’lly pretty…” He swallowed hard, breath hitching with each word. “Alw…ayss… wanted t’ tell you… y’know…”

‘...Oh.’

Endo stared, overwhelmed by a wave of emotion so fierce it felt like sickness. His throat clenched, lips trembling as tears blurred his vision. Blood stuck hot and slick between their hands, anchoring him in the reality he wanted to tear apart.

“Y-Yeah?” His voice cracked, but softened, rough with everything he couldn’t say. “Thank you, sweetheart.” The word slipped out, unbidden, a raw term of endearment he’d never dared use before. “Wanna know how I got ‘em?”

Sakura’s head tipped faintly against his arm, a ghost of a nod. “Mhm…” He didn’t complain about the name- whether from weakness, overwhelm, or quiet acceptance, Endo didn’t know. So he continued. 

“Well,” he began, his thumb brushing gently across the teen’s two-toned hairline, “I actually got most of ‘em ‘cause I thought they were cool. And an old friend of mine wanted to practice his tattooin’, so I offered myself as a practice dummy.” His tone stayed light, forced casual, a shield against the blood steadily soaking through his shirt. “The only one that’s really got meanin’ is my FRANK tattoo. And you already know that story.”

Then, almost playfully, Endo tilted his head, teal eyes squinting. “Though, y’know… bein’ a practice dummy, there were bound to be mistakes. The Roman numeral for four on my right hand? Actually wrong. The idiot inked it backward, so now it reads as six instead of four.”

A thin huff escaped Sakura, more breath than laugh, the faintest quirk tugging at his pale brow. “T-that’s all? …Thought you… w-were more interesting…”

Soft chuckles escaped the dark-haired man before he shrugged. “Ah, c’mon. I’m plenty interestin’! …Matter of fact, I was thinkin’ about gettin’ some cherry blossoms tattooed- to always carry ya with me. What d’you think?”

Beautiful, vibrant blossoms. Crawling across his back, curling around his sides, right over his heart- intertwining with Takiishi’s flames etched across his collarbones.

“You… would do that? ...For me?” Sakura whispered, soft and fragile, disbelief trembling in his voice. His hazy mismatched eyes searched Endo’s intense teal, almost desperate, searching for truth.

And god, didn’t that make Endo’s heart ache.

“Yeah,” he breathed, raw and certain. “For you.”

A faint laugh slipped from the teen, brittle and fragile, like wind chimes in a dying breeze. “H-heh… you’re weird.”

“I know,” Endo replied, his voice barely audible. He was memorizing the fragile sight before him, fighting the burn of tears as he watched the metaphorical pink petals drench in crimson. A sight he once coveted now felt profoundly wrong, a thing of sickness and grief- Focus! He had to focus.

His eyes flicked up, watching Takiishi crack the heel of his boot down on the bastard’s head with final, brutal violence. Endo forced a shaky grin. “But then again, we’re all a bit weird. Don’t ‘cha say?”

“Hah…?” Sakura hummed, slowly blinking up at him. The drug-induced fog seemed to be lifting, leaving a clearer, more agonizing awareness in its wake. A sharp wince twisted his features as he tried to shift.

“I mean- look at you! You literally just took a damn bullet for us, ya idiot. Who does that?” The man scolds, narrowing teal eyes at the teen as his hand tightened over the soaked bandage. The blood under his palm felt cooler now- had it finally slowed? Could he dare to hope-?

“Says…” Sakura coughed, a wet, painful sound low in his throat. “...t’ guy who jumped from …a two-story building.”

Endo huffed, a strained sound almost like a laugh. “Those two are very different things, I’ll have y’know. I jumped ‘cuz I wanted a flashy entrance. You? You don’t seem to have an ounce of self-preservation. Honestly, we’ll have ta’ work on that. Can’t have ya pullin’ somethin’ this stupid again.”

The bi-colored teen squinted as another weak cough rattled his chest, cutting through his words. “Wh… what’re you even blabberin’ about…” His voice cracked between confusion and pain, as if the effort of keeping up with the man’s rant was more exhausting than the bleeding itself.

“Nothin’, nothin’.” Endo soothed quickly, softening, his thumb brushing across the boy’s temple in grounding strokes. “Don’t worry ‘bout me. Just… stay awake for me, hm?”

“Hn…” For a few breaths, Sakura only blinked at him- slow, heavy, mismatched eyes trying to focus but sliding out of sync, his chest rising in uneven stutters. Then his lips parted, trembling around a faint whisper. “Endo… ‘m sorry. Should’ve… been stronger.”

“Hey now.” Endo shook his head, brushing damp strands from Sakura’s clammy (too warm) forehead. “You’re okay. No need ta’ apologize. And hell- might as well just call me Yamato now. I think we’ve been through enough for you to earn that privilege, don’tcha think?”

Sakura let out the ghost of a hum, the corner of his mouth twitching faintly. “I… like ‘Endo’ better… though. It’s unique…” He tried to pout, weakly playful, but the effort collapsed into a grimace. His whole body seized, muscles clenching hard enough to make the other’s grip falter, terror spiking at the thought of worsening the bleeding.

“Ugh… it’s… gettin’ blurry… ‘m tired…” His head sagged suddenly against Endo’s shoulder, lolling as strength drained out of him.

‘No-’ 

The image tore through Endo’s mind unbidden- Once-steady cherry blossom branches creaking in the storm, splintering apart under invisible weight. Withering. Dying. 

“Sakura! Shit- You’re fine- Hold on, okay? Hey, don’t close your eyes- look at me!” Alarmed, Endo gave him a gentle shake, careful not to jostle the wound.

“C-can’t-” Sakura’s voice split thin, raw with terror. “Endo-… Endo, ‘m scared. It’s dark-”

“Fuck, no. Don’t you say that.” Endo pressed down harder, his jaw locking as a new rush of blood slipped stubbornly past his palm. It hadn’t slowed nearly enough. Too much was already lost. Careless. Utterly careless. His gut twisted like knives. This was his fault.

“Shit- fuck- Takiishi! Wrap it up! We need to go, now!”

At once, Takiishi turned toward them. His face was a hollow mask, unreadable beneath the smears of drying blood. His golden eyes, flat and distant, gave nothing away. Behind him, Shuten lay sprawled in an unmoving heap, twisted and broken on the concrete floor.

Endo didn’t wait to see more. He slid an arm beneath Sakura’s knees and hauled him up against his chest, muttering frantic apologies when the teen whimpered, crying out at the jostle. “Shh- sorry, sweetheart, sorry. I’ve got you. I’ve got you. We’re gettin’ you out now.” He staggered toward the broken door, forcing his voice steady even as it cracked. “Can you- can you hold onto the bandage for me? Press it down, yeah? Just keep it there for me.”

Sakura’s teeth clenched, a weak groan rattling his chest, but he obeyed. His trembling hands pressed over the soaked fabric, his knuckles white with effort.

He’d be fine. He had to be fine. Yet when Endo dared a glance down- at Sakura, at the alarming puddle spreading beneath them- all he saw were cherry blossoms wilting, petals drowning in red, strong roots shriveling as cracks raced up the bark. He’ll die- humans can’t lose more than a third of their blood before their body starts shutting down. He’s already close- too close- And the drugs were probably making it even worse- 

‘No. No, no, no- he can’t. I won’t let him-’ Endo’s grip tightened, holding him as though sheer will alone could anchor him.

“Wh…where’s… Chi-nii…?”

The question instantly dragged Takiishi  to their side. Golden eyes softened, heavy as they met his little brother’s clouded mismatched ones. A bloodied hand lifted- hesitated in the air- then lowered again, curling into a fist at his side. (He wouldn’t stain Haru with more red. Especially not when it came from that bastard.) 

“I’m here, Haru. Right here.” His voice was slow and careful, but tight at the edges. “You’ll be okay. Can you stay awake a bit longer? At least until we get help?”

Sakura’s head bobbed in a faint nod, but his pallor was worsening by the second.

Takiishi’s jaw worked, pure rage and grief burning beneath a carefully constructed blankness. “Go,” he ordered, voice flat, leaving no room for argument. “I’ll be right behind you.”

Endo didn’t hesitate. He moved toward the door, Sakura cradled close, but his gaze lingered over his shoulder, shielding the teen from the sight.

He watched as the fiery-haired man strode back to Shuten’s motionless form. Without a hint of ceremony, he drove his boot into the trafficker’s side, rolling him onto his back to pull something from the man’s bloodied suit. 

A lighter flicked open in his hand, the metallic snap loud in the stillness. Then, without pause, he lit the spark before dropping it into the slick, clear puddle spilling from the ruptured canister- the same one he’d used to drench and break the trafficker moments before.

The fire didn't just catch; it exploded.

The flames roared to life, racing across the floor before hungrily licking up Shuten’s clothes, devouring cloth and flesh alike. A guttural, strangled sound gargled from the inferno- a final, agonized reflex from a body not quite dead.

Takiishi was already turning away, his silhouette outlined against the sudden hellscape, not granting the writhing figure so much as a glance.

Meanwhile, Endo faced forward, tightening his grip around Sakura as he broke into a sprint. Neither man looked back while the fire swelled into an inferno, swallowing ruin- and the screaming corpse within it.

It was over. 

And yet, as they were barely out of the room and ten paces down the hall, Sakura suddenly lurched, coughing violently- 

A spray of crimson speckled onto Endo’s shirt. 

Endo froze in his tracks while the teen made a small, bewildered sound, eyes glazing as he stared at the fresh blood. “…O-Oh…” A choked whisper, ragged and hurt- more surprise than pain. Then his entire body went slack.

A beat of pure, ice-cold horror suspended time.

“...Sakura?” Endo’s voice was a strangled question, a terrified plea. 

But there was no response. 

His heart plummeted. “No- no, no, no- hey!” He shook him gently, desperation clawing at his chest. “C’mon, sweetheart, please don’t do this- stay with us-!”

“Haru!” Takiishi was there in an instant, golden eyes blown wide with dawning terror. His hands trembled as he hovered, useless. His little brother looked too small, too pale- looked dead. “Please, open your eyes!”

But he didn’t. 

Panic erupted, raw and all-consuming. “Fuck! C’mon, don’t you dare- don’t you fuckin’ give up now!” Endo begged, his voice borderline shattering as he clutched tighter. Blood kept soaking through, hot and steady, searing into his ruined clothes.

Had the movement ruptured something? Had it driven the bullet deeper? If it had indeed nicked an organ, then- Shit. Shit!

Endo dragged Sakura closer against his chest, holding him almost too tight, just to free one hand. His arm shook under the weight as he pressed the teen’s lifeless body in, teeth gritted, before fumbling for a wrist. His fingers clamped down hard, too rough in his desperation, but this was necessary.

His breath caught as he focused- 

Thump… Thump… 

…

…Thump.

He found it. A pulse.

But it was a faltering, irregular rhythm, slowing like a clock winding down. 

“Verdammte Scheiße!” Endo swore, the curse tearing from him like a growl. He clung to that weak, stuttering pulse as if sheer force could hold it steady. It was all he had. All he could do.

He thundered down the corridor, every step rattling through his bones, the teen in his arms frighteningly weightless. Blood continued to seep against him, dripping a trail in their wake. Behind him, Takiishi’s presence was reduced to the harsh cadence of footfalls and the rustle of bloodstained fabric.

They needed an ambulance. Now. Faster than now. God, please- had the others called one when he asked through the chat? Would it even be there already?

The hall forked ahead. Almost at the stairs. Almost out-

“ENDO!”

Umemiya harshly skidded to a stop, his shout tearing down the corridor. His teammates staggered with him, the sound of scuffed shoes echoing off the walls.

And then his eyes caught on what was barreling toward them- Endo, sprinting full-force, clutching something to his chest. No- someone.

Sakura.

The young grade captain sagged in the man’s arms, limp, his head lolling to the side. His shirt- once white- was drenched through with blood, scarlet still spreading, dripping a path across the tiles. His face was ashen, lips tinged the faintest blue.

Umemiya’s chest seized. The world tilted.

They’d gotten Endo’s message about Sakura- shot in the stomach, ambulance needed. 

The words had hollowed him out, rattled the others too, but he’d forced himself to believe it couldn’t be as bad as it sounded. Endo could’ve been panicked, exaggerating. Sakura was strong, resilient, and incredibly durable. Maybe the bleeding had slowed already. Maybe he just needed stitches and rest, nothing more- (Umemiya knew he was lying to himself.)

He’d clung to those maybes like a lifeline, because the alternative- because this-

His throat closed.

“Sakura…?” The name scraped out of him, strangled, barely his own. He prayed for even the smallest reaction- that the bi-colored teen would stir, open his eyes, something. But nothing happened.

Behind him, his group faltered. Tsugeura gagged, clamping a hand over his mouth and clutching Suo and Kiryu for balance. Kiryu stood pale and rigid, while Suo’s jaw clenched so hard his teeth audibly cracked, auburn eye ice-cold, fixed on his unmoving captain. Meanwhile, Sugishita stood rigid, his usual scowl replaced by a mask of pure horror. 

The fragile hope they’d carried here evaporated, leaving only the cold, metallic taste of dread.

“Fuckin’ MOVE IT!” Endo bellowed, voice jagged with panic and fury. He didn’t slow, muscling straight through their group, the weight in his arms cradled desperately close. Takiishi swept by a beat later, eyes golden and blazing, silent but no less terrifying.

The five twisted to watch them go, paralyzed. The image gouged itself into their skulls, searing deep: Sakura limp in Endo’s arms, blood dripping a trail that gleamed dark under the flickering lights.

Then the smell hit- metallic, acrid, smoke tangled with fuel.

Umemiya’s stomach lurched.

Suddenly, he wasn’t in the factory anymore. He was back there. That day. His parents shoving him aside just before the van hit- taking the impact themselves. Twisted metal. Blood everywhere. Silence where voices should’ve been. His unborn sibling gone before even drawing breath-

And now- Sakura. Pale. Limp. Lifeless. That streaked black-and-white hair a cruel echo of his mother and father.

Umemiya was helpless all over again- forced to watch another sibling slip away.

Bile surged up his throat. He staggered, spun on his heel, and retched hard onto the floor.

By the time Endo and Takiishi burst out of the basement- out of the factory’s rotting hull- the storm was in full swing. Rain lashed down in sheets, the wind tearing at their bloodied clothes, the midday sun smothered beneath a ceiling of black clouds.

But they didn’t care. They didn’t slow. Not for the distressed shouts they blew past, not for the gasps of allies, not even for their own burning lungs.

Everything blurred- except those flashing blue lights strobing against rust and rain at the factory’s front gate.

Endo forced himself to go even faster, adrenaline scorching through his veins as his soles thundered against the wet pavement. His shirt clung heavy, stiff with drying blood, every stride pulling at the crusted fabric where Sakura’s wound still sluggishly bled through.

One ambulance. That was all. Parked crooked in the mud, its crew visibly overwhelmed as they cared for an unconscious man and the other exhausted captives. No second siren. No backup.

But it didn’t matter. There still had to be a chance. They could help him. They had to. He wouldn’t accept anything else. 

Endo barreled straight at the nearest medic, nearly shoving others aside as he cradled Sakura higher in his arms. “Help him! He-He’s been shot- stomach! No exit wound! He’s losin’ too much, I can’t- just do somethin’, please!”

The paramedic jolted, then snapped into motion. Assessing eyes swept the mismatched boy, practiced hands checking pupils, pulse, peeling back the sodden fabric at his abdomen- revealing the sluggish, seeping wound beneath.

To Endo’s left came the sound of someone gagging, while another one whimpered. He spared only a flicker of awareness- enough to register Nirei turning chalk-pale before collapsing forward into Hiragi’s arms, the blond trembling violently as the Heavenly King caught him. Others stared in frozen horror. But none of it mattered. None of them mattered. Only Sakura.

Takiishi’s hand clamped down on Endo’s shoulder, bruising-tight, grounding and desperate all at once as they waited for the verdict.

And then the medic’s expression faltered. A twitch. The briefest crack before his face settled into something softer, heavier. That look. The one people wore before they said ‘I’m sorry’.

“No.” Endo’s voice split open, jagged, raw. His whole body coiled like a cornered animal, teal eyes blazing with feral terror. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare give me that look! He’s still breathin’- he’s still here! So do somethin’!”

But the medic only shook his head, pity dragging his features down. “If he doesn’t get a transfusion within the next ten, fifteen minutes- if he doesn’t make it through the ride to surgery- he won’t…” His voice faltered, lips parting, fumbling toward some hollow comfort.

Endo saw it coming. Heard it before it left the man’s throat. And something inside him broke.

The world narrowed to a single, screaming point. ‘No. No. No-!’

He staggered back, hauling Sakura tighter into his chest as though he could fuse them together, as though sheer force of will could drag him back from the brink. His voice dropped, dark and final, a vow spat through bared teeth- 

“Fuck this.”

In one fluid, desperate motion, he turned from the paramedic, shoving through the gathered crowd of paralyzed, horrified teens. His decision was made- there was no time left. His bike was their only chance.

“Move!” Endo barked, fury and terror wrapped in one, as he shoved past shoulders and arms reaching without daring to touch.

In three pounding strides, he was at the bike before he promptly turned and shifted Sakura into Takiishi’s waiting arms. The fiery-haired man slid into the sidecar, cradling his brother with a tenderness at odds with the storm blazing in his golden eyes. He met Endo’s stare- silent, unflinching- and the single nod they exchanged was enough.

Only then did Endo lunge forward, jamming the key into the ignition. He swung onto the black machine, every muscle drawn taut, knuckles bone-white on the grips.

He barely registered Hiragi’s voice cutting through the rain, shouting his name, or the ragged “Endo, wait-!” from Umemiya, who stumbled out from the factory doors, drenched and pale. Their cries splintered uselessly against him, drowned by the roar of blood and storm in his ears.

The key twisted. The engine roared awake. Tires shrieked against wet asphalt, spitting gravel.

And then they were gone.

Chapter Text

The storm swallowed them whole.

Rain hammered the streets in relentless sheets, each drop stinging like needles as Endo drove like a man possessed. 

The black machine roared beneath him, wheels biting against slick asphalt, skidding dangerously on sharp turns- but he never let up. Couldn’t. Not when every second bled Sakura thinner. (Stuffed inside his pocket, his phone vibrated with a flood of ignored messages.)

In the sidecar, Takiishi hunched protectively over his little brother, cradling him close, shielding him from the wind and spray as best he could. Sakura’s breaths came ragged and shallow, each one burning hotter against his fevered forehead while the rest of his body grew frighteningly cold. Too cold.

“ENDO!” His voice cracked, raw with panic, almost lost to the storm. A plea. A demand-

It was the sound of a man watching his world die in his arms.

Endo didn’t need to hear it. He could feel the fragile balance behind him tipping. His jaw clenched until his teeth ached. In response, he wrenched the throttle, weaving through traffic with a recklessness born of pure terror. The bike shuddered, protesting at the limits of its endurance.

He didn’t care. He’d burn out the engine if it got them there one second faster.

The engine could be replaced.

Sakura could not.

The world narrowed to the weight in his arms.

Chika’s hands trembled, but his hold was iron-tight. Vision blurry, eyes burning- but he barely registered any of it. He didn’t dare blink. All that existed was the terrifying pallor of Haru’s face, the blue tinge to his lips, the way his head lolled with every jolt of the bike.

Every rise and fall of his chest was counted. One. Two. Three- Each shallower than the last. The gaps between them stretched like torture, his own lungs seizing in mimicry, as though willing himself to breathe for his little brother might keep him tethered.

He felt the blood soaking through his clothes, hot and sticky against his skin, while the storm poured down mercilessly from above. He hunched lower, arms curling tighter, shielding Haru’s lifeless body from the rain as if he could guard him from everything else that threatened to rip him away.

“Please… please don’t leave me,” Chika distantly heard himself beg. The words were cracked, raw, half-swallowed by the storm. 

For a heartbeat, he wasn’t eighteen anymore. He was eleven- small, powerless, clutching at empty space, at the missing warmth his parents had extinguished when they’d taken Haru from him. A childhood cut in half, a bottomless hole in his chest where family should’ve been- leaving nothing but a colorless darkness behind. 

Even though he had only known Haru for a year, the younger boy had become his light in that void- his guiding star in a sky gone black. The only thing that made sense, the only reason to keep moving forward. And now, when he’d just gotten him back- that dim glow was flickering, threatening to gutter out entirely. 

Without him, everything would collapse back into that cold, endless darkness. Leaving Chika empty. Leaving him with nothing.

“I’m sorry,” his voice broke, the hollow apology tumbling out, choked and trembling. “I wasn’t there when you needed me- I should’ve protected you. I promised I would, and I failed. I’m a failure of a brother- you deserve better than me.” 

Chika didn’t even recognize his own voice anymore. It sounded too small, too splintered, like something cracked in half. It was strange, entirely unfamiliar- And yet he still clung on- Shaking, stubborn fingers pressing into a bruised wrist, thumb trembling over the faint flutter of a failing pulse. Holding on, because if he let go, he’d fall apart completely.

“But I’ll try,” he whispered, the words spilling faster, louder, until they broke into a plea. “I’ll be better- I’ll do anything.” His arms tightened as he cradled his little brother- his light- with bloodied hands, trying desperately to keep the warmth from slipping away, to keep the glow from fading, from dying.

“Just don’t leave me. Please, Haru- please.” His forehead pressed against his little brother’s damp hair, golden eyes brimming, burning. 

Yet no matter how strong he was, how experienced, how ruthless he’d become- none of it could stop this. 

All he could do was cling, helpless, to that flickering, bleeding life. 

“I can’t do this without you.”

Silent tears slipped free, mingling with blood and storm until he couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. His chest ached with every ragged breath, his heart pounding so violently it felt like it might burst- yet he was powerless, stripped bare, when the one thing that mattered most was being torn from his grasp.

“Please.” His voice fractured, a child’s sob torn raw through an older body, golden eyes hazy as he tilted his head skyward. “Please, I beg of you. Don’t take him. Don’t take my brother.”