Anddy 𝓐. 𝓩 @anddyap - Tumblr Blog

May 28

WHEN THE WIND CHANGES

𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐊𝐀𝐉𝐈 word count :: ( 12,736 ) genre :: fluffyyy, angsty, gore, && slow burn content contains :: stabbing/cutting, knives, bats, fighting, pretty much just regular bofurin behavior part two right here !!

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

the wind carried dust here. that was the first thing you noticed.

it wasn’t unpleasant, just… constant. it pulled through the narrow side streets like it belonged there, brushing across the rows of old signage and iron shutters. it moved past the bus stop you’d stepped off at only twenty minutes ago, weaving between your hair like it had known you long before you arrived.

welcome to the town, it seemed to whisper.

you adjusted the strap of your bag higher on your shoulder, eyes tracking the way light filtered through the gaps in the shop awnings ahead. the air felt different here—cleaner than the city, quieter than what you were used to. buildings pressed close together, but not in a suffocating way. more like neighbors leaning in to chat.

you turned the corner and spotted the café sign exactly where kotoha said it would be.

“coffee + bread + peace” was scrawled in white paint across the windowpane, accompanied by a few drawn-on flowers that looked like they’d been added by a bored customer rather than the staff. the wooden door creaked slightly as you opened it, the bell above it chiming with a bright, high note.

the inside smelled like flour and something citrusy—maybe lemon zest?—and faintly of brewed espresso. a few customers dotted the tables, mostly older locals flipping through newspapers or looking out the window. the café wasn’t large, but it had that lived-in warmth. faded tile, a long wooden counter, shelves stacked with mismatched mugs.

and behind the counter, drying her hands on a dish towel, was kotoha tachibana.

“right on time,” she said, offering you a crooked smile. “that bodes well.”

she didn’t offer a handshake—just gestured with her chin for you to come around the back. you stepped into the space behind the counter and tried not to look too stiff, though your nerves prickled at the base of your neck. kotoha noticed. of course she did.

“relax,” she said, throwing the towel over her shoulder. “this isn’t tokyo. you’re not getting graded.”

you gave a quiet laugh. “i’ve just never worked front-of-house before.”

“well,” she said, opening a drawer and pulling out a small notepad and an apron, “you’re lucky. we don’t get a ton of customers unless it’s a fight weekend or the after-school rush. but you’re mostly working the morning and mid-day shifts with me, so it’s just sleepy people who want carbs and caffeine.”

you tied the apron around your waist as she handed you the notepad. it had doodles on it—stars, little knives, what looked like a frog with an eye patch. she noticed where you were looking.

“yeah,” she said dryly. “we get characters in here.”

you were about to ask her to elaborate when the bell above the door jingled again. kotoha glanced up, and something shifted subtly in her posture—not nervousness, but a flicker of awareness.

you turned, half out of instinct, and saw him.

he walked in like someone who didn’t want to be noticed but still managed to draw every gaze. tall. sharp features. his school uniform hung neatly on his frame—jacket buttoned, sleeves just slightly rolled to the wrist. a satchel slung over one shoulder, white headphones resting loosely around his neck.

but it was the hair you noticed first—white, almost silver under the café lights, cut in a clean style that somehow made him look more untouchable than elegant. like snow that hadn’t been stepped on.

you were trying to remember his name, you’d seen his face before—on a blurry photo on your brother’s phone, half-obscured behind a crowd of uniformed fighters and bloody knuckles.

ren kaji.

he approached the counter without glancing at either of you. his voice was low when he spoke, barely above the hum of the coffee machine.

“coffee. black. medium.”

kotoha was already moving to fill the order, but not without rolling her eyes. “still pretending you have no personality?”

he didn’t respond. just placed a few coins on the counter and waited, expression unreadable.

kotoha handed you the cup to pass over. a test, maybe. you stepped forward, setting the paper cup in front of him with a quiet “here.”

he didn’t look at you right away—just picked up the cup, glanced at the lid. then his eyes flicked to your face, brief and unreadable. not rude. not curious. just… sizing you up. like a fighter checking their opponent’s stance before making a move.

“new?” he asked.

you blinked. “uh. yeah. first day.”

he nodded once, barely perceptible. then turned and left without another word, the bell jingling behind him again as he disappeared back into the morning.

kotoha leaned her elbows on the counter, watching you. “that,” she said, “was the local ice cube.”

you snorted. “ren kaji, right?”

she raised an eyebrow, mildly impressed. “oh, so you’ve heard.”

you shrugged. “just… stuff my brother’s mentioned.”

she didn’t press. but the way her gaze lingered on you for a second longer told you she was doing the math in her head. your name. your features. the vague familiarity.

she let it go. for now.

“don’t worry about him,” she said, turning to grab a tray of pastries. “he only gets chatty when someone bleeds on the sidewalk.”

you weren’t sure why that made you smile.

the café had quieted again. a late morning lull, sunlight falling in warm strips across the floor. the last rush of customers had filtered out half an hour ago, leaving only the sound of utensils clinking in the sink and kotoha humming under her breath as she restocked the pastry case.

you leaned on the counter, flipping the pencil in your hand. there was a question on your tongue — something small, something about the old coffee grinder that kept sputtering like it was holding its breath — but you hesitated before asking.

kotoha caught the look.

“you’re thinking too hard,” she said without looking up. “dangerous habit around here.”

you smiled, tapping the eraser of your pencil against the notepad.

“is it always this quiet between ten and noon?”

“pretty much,” she replied, sliding a tray of lemon scones onto the shelf. “except when the school lets out early. or when—”

the bell above the door interrupted her.

your gaze shifted. six figures pushed through the doorway in a chaotic tangle of voices, bruises, and swagger. they moved like a pack that had barely just survived something. and by the looks of them, they had.

you recognized a few of them instantly from your brother’s old texts and the way he’d talk about his squad when he thought you weren’t listening.

leading the chaos, all cracked grin and split knuckles, was hajime umemiya—the school’s top fighter and walking hurricane. bruised jaw, red-stained collar, eyes alight like he’d just had the time of his life.

he was already calling out before the door had finished swinging shut.

“kotohaaaa~! i saw the light of my life through the window, so i brought offerings!”

kotoha didn’t even blink.

“if the offering’s more of your busted ribs, i’m locking you out.”

umemiya made a dramatic show of clutching his chest. “my own sister, turning me away wounded? and after all we’ve been through—”

“you mean the group home and your weekly habit of bleeding on my floor?”

“exactly! sentiment!”

kotoha side-stepped him with ease, already grabbing cups and prepping the regular orders.

just behind umemiya came toma hiragi, who looked like someone had been dragging him out of a fight five seconds ago and he was mad it ended early. his spiked, pointed hair stuck out like he’d walked through an electrical storm, and the way he flashed his sharp teeth when he laughed was downright feral.

next to him, in complete contrast, was mitsuki kiryu—cool as ever, even with blood still drying on his knuckles. his long, pink hair was swept back, and his smile was soft, lazy, like he didn’t have a single care in the world.

“we live to see another day,” he said cheerfully, voice smooth, as he leaned on the counter like he came here just for the good vibes.

his chin piercing glinted faintly, and the two eyebrow piercings caught the light every time he tilted his head.

he looked like a guy who fought before breakfast and then came here for dessert.

“kiryu,” kotoha said, glancing at his hand. “are you bleeding or just decorating?”

“just a little bit of both,” he replied with a grin. “adds character.”

“stop bleeding on the napkin dispensers.”

“yes, ma’am.”

taiga tsugeura crashed into a chair, groaning dramatically as he held the back of his head.

“i swear, that guy came outta nowhere—”

“you elbowed a cop car,” kiryu noted helpfully, still smiling.

bringing up the rear was akihiko nirei, who looked like he was five seconds away from dissolving into a puddle of stress.

“can we—can we please not get banned from every café within a ten-mile radius,” he stammered, voice high and tight as he hovered near the door. “i like this one. it’s clean. and normal. and it doesn’t smell like hospital floors.”

“you’re bleeding on the floor again,” he added to umemiya, half-gasping, half-resigned.

“you’re welcome,” umemiya beamed.

as the rest of them settled into their usual corner of the café, one figure split off from the group—quietly, like it was nothing unusual.

suo.

he moved with that calm step of his, hands in his pockets, shoulders relaxed despite the bruising along his cheek. he passed right by everyone and came straight to you, eyes already softening the moment they met yours.

“you settling in okay?” he asked, voice low and even. “kotoha’s not working you too hard, is she?”

you blinked, then smiled. “not yet.”

he chuckled under his breath. “good. she means well, but she’s relentless if you mess up a milk foam pattern.”

you snorted. “noted.”

he reached over and adjusted the edge of your apron—slightly crooked from earlier—like it was the most natural thing in the world. and just like that, the café went completely still.

someone dropped a spoon.

“…what the hell,” taiga whispered, stunned.

“is he flirting?” kiryu asked with a lazy smile, like he was just enjoying the drama.

“maybe she’s like… an undercover boss,” nirei muttered, panicking slightly. “oh my god, what if we’ve all been rude to the boss’s niece or something—i’m gonna die—”

“she’s probably his ex,” hiragi said, fangs showing through a sly grin. “and this is their redemption arc.”

“no, no, time traveler,” umemiya said, serious. “i feel it in my heart.”

you tried to hide your laugh, but it almost slipped out. suo caught it. his smile lingered for half a second longer before he gave your shoulder a light pat and turned away to join the others like nothing had happened.

kotoha, halfway through steaming milk, had gone completely still.

her eyes flicked from you, to suo’s back, then to you again. she studied your face, quietly. your eyes. the curve of your nose. the way you stood when you were relaxed.

something clicked in her head.

not the whole picture. not yet.

but something.

“…huh,” she muttered under her breath.

you didn’t ask what she meant.

but you knew she was gonna be watching you for the rest of the shift.

a few minutes after the drinks were delivered, you slipped out the back door with the tray still in your hands, heart tapping a little too fast.

you figured he’d follow.

and he did.

the alley behind café pothos was quiet, shaded, the stone steps still slick from the last night’s rain. a few pots of herbs lined the ledge, kotoha’s quiet handiwork—some mint, rosemary, little seedlings of basil stretching toward the sun. the only sound was the soft hum of the city waking up and the faint clatter of mugs inside.

suo joined you without speaking at first. he leaned against the wall, arms crossed, the same easy smile on his lips that he wore when he was holding back too much.

you exhaled slowly.

“you know they’re going to keep talking about it now.”

“yeah,” he said, watching a pigeon flutter onto the fence. “they definitely are.”

a moment passed.

“we should’ve just told them,” you murmured, “that you’re my brother. would’ve been easier.”

suo shook his head. “nah. not yet.”

you turned to him.

“i’m serious,” he said, softer now. “not because i’m ashamed or anything. it’s just… you know what kind of reputation bofurin has. you deserve to settle in here without people immediately labeling you as ‘suo’s sister’.”

you frowned.

“i’m not saying hide it forever. just—give it time. let them meet you as you first.”

you hesitated, then nodded. you understood. he always tried to protect you, even if it came off a little overbearing.

“you always do this,” you said lightly. “play the older brother and the secret agent.”

“someone’s gotta.”

you huffed a small laugh, and his smile returned. the quiet kind. the one that didn’t show his teeth but always reached his eyes.

you were about to say something else—something grateful, maybe—when his hand suddenly reached your shoulder, steady but firm.

“don’t look,” he murmured. “but sakura and ren are headed this way.”

your stomach jolted slightly, though you weren’t sure why.

“from the front?”

“yeah.”

he stood straighter now, hand still on your shoulder, tone shifting into something more serious. not urgent. just… protective.

“you’re safe now,” he said, louder, with intention behind it. “don’t worry about earlier. just head back inside and finish your shift.”

you blinked at him, half confused—half catching on.

he wasn’t speaking to you, not really.

he was speaking for them to hear.

as if he’d just come outside to deal with something dangerous. as if you were the problem. or the victim. or maybe both.

and from the corner of your eye, you caught a flash of them across the street, getting closer—

haruka sakura, with his half-white, half-black hair and mismatched eyes—one pale gray, one gold-bright like the sun had cracked open in it. he moved like someone who lived inside tension. unreadable. sharp without trying to be.

and next to him—

ren kaji.

headphones around his neck. white hair slightly windblown. shoulders squared but not stiff. unreadable in a quieter way. like nothing really got to him. eyes scanning every corner without a flicker of judgment. just… watching. calculating.

you swallowed hard, then nodded quickly to suo.

“right. thanks,” you said, voice pitched slightly higher like you were just another stranger brushing off a favor. “i’ll, uh… i’ll get back to work.”

he gave your shoulder a final pat, then stepped back toward the wall like he hadn’t just staged a full cover-up.

you ducked inside, face burning as the door swung shut behind you.

as you passed kotoha, she raised an eyebrow.

“…you okay?”

“yep.”

she stared.

you started reorganizing the sugar packets like your life depended on it.

outside, you could just barely hear the murmur of sakura’s voice, low and bored, and another voice answering—deeper, steadier.

you didn’t have to look to know it was ren.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

the walk to café pothos was quiet, the way ren preferred it.

the breeze tugged at his hoodie sleeve. the sky above the city was bright but not glaring, a soft kind of warmth pressing into his shoulders. across the street, signs flipped from “closed” to “open,” and the rustling of late morning passed around him like water.

beside him, haruka sakura walked with that usual tension in his frame. eyes half-lidded. expression unreadable. the black and white split of his hair swayed in time with his stride, the corner of his gray eye catching the light like a cut of steel.

he didn’t say much.

he never did.

ren didn’t mind. silence was fine with him.

they were nearly to the café when he noticed the movement out of the corner of his eye.

someone slipping out the side door. fast.

not running—but definitely leaving. with purpose. or nerves.

a girl. apron still on. tray under one arm.

he watched as she stepped back into the alley, and seconds later, someone else followed.

ren slowed.

“…that’s suo,” he murmured.

haruka barely blinked. “and?”

“and he’s got his hand on her shoulder.”

ren didn’t usually assign meaning to things he didn’t understand. but the look on suo’s face—

too still. too careful.

like he was playing a role. or protecting something no one else knew about.

the girl—whoever she was—nodded like she understood something unwritten. said something back. then turned on her heel and slipped back inside without even a glance their way.

her face was a little flushed.

the tray was gone.

ren tilted his head slightly.

suo lingered behind a few seconds longer, then leaned against the wall like he hadn’t just been acting strange.

ren didn’t say anything.

but he didn’t stop thinking about it, either.

the bell above the door jingled as he stepped into café pothos, letting the warm smell of espresso and sugar rush up to meet him.

the first thing he noticed was how many people were already there.

umemiya, arms flung dramatically across the back of the couch, blood still crusted at his jaw, was laughing about something.

hiragi, slouched sideways in a chair, was flashing teeth and flipping a teaspoon between his fingers.

kiryu sat perfectly still, grinning vaguely at the ceiling like he’d just discovered nirvana.

tsugeura had his head against the table, groaning.

nirei was pacing back and forth between the trash bin and the register like the entire café was one misstep from disaster.

“there’s blood on this table,” nirei hissed as they walked in. “literal blood. someone’s gonna call the health inspector. we’re doomed.”

“you say that every week,” kiryu offered, eyes still half-lidded.

ren let the door shut behind them.

he scanned the room once.

then found her.

you.

standing behind the counter. organizing sugar packets like your life depended on it. head ducked, shoulders just a little tense. not uncomfortable. not embarrassed. just… off.

like you were trying really hard to be invisible.

suo wasn’t looking at you anymore. in fact, he was fully back in the booth with the others, acting as if nothing strange had happened at all.

ren narrowed his eyes.

his fingers drifted up to the bluetooth headphones resting around his neck. white. sleek. no cord. just a quiet presence, like everything else about him.

he didn’t speak. not yet.

but something was weird.

and ren kaji noticed everything.

“you okay?” kotoha asked, eyeing the way you were fidgeting with the edge of your apron.

you nodded way too fast. “yep. totally. i’m gonna go take their orders.”

she gave you a look. “you sure?”

“yep.”

you were not.

but you had to do something. standing around trying not to glance at ren kaji was making it worse.

you grabbed your notepad and stepped out from behind the counter, weaving through tables until you reached the two boys still standing near the front.

sakura stiffened the second you got within three feet of them.

his eyes widened slightly, the gray one twitching, the honey-colored one darting to avoid direct eye contact. his posture suddenly looked like someone who’d just been caught in the middle of a crime scene.

“hi,” you said, polite. “can i take your orders?”

before you could even offer options, sakura’s entire face went red.

“HUH?! WH—ME?!”

he pointed at himself like you’d just insulted his entire bloodline. “w-wait—i didn’t—I don’t know you!!”

you blinked. “right… i just meant if you wanted coffee—?”

“WHY WOULD I WANT COFFEE I DON’T EVEN KNOW YOU—WHY ARE YOU TALKING TO ME—”

he started sweating. “I’M GOOD!! KOTOHA USUALLY JUST—I MEAN—SHE—SHE DECIDES!! I DRINK WHATEVER!!”

“okay, okay—” you stepped back slightly, hands raised, trying not to laugh. “i’ll just—ask ren, then…”

sakura immediately turned around and muttered something about needing to go sit down before he exploded.

ren, in contrast, hadn’t moved. his bluetooth headphones sat around his neck, untouchable. he was just… staring. at you.

you tried to meet his gaze, but it was a little too direct. like he was watching your every breath for a secret.

“um… and for you?” you asked softly, pretending your pen wasn’t shaking.

he didn’t respond.

just stared.

again.

longer this time.

“ren,” umemiya called from the booth with a mouthful of cake, “stop acting like she stole your favorite manga. you’re making her nervous.”

ren blinked once. “wasn’t.”

“you so were,” umemiya laughed. “this is why you don’t get free samples. i’ll order for him. cold brew, oat milk, extra ice, no joy.”

you nodded, grateful. “got it.”

as you walked away, you glanced just once over your shoulder.

ren was still staring.

sakura had his head face-down on the table.

you stepped back behind the counter with your notepad in hand and your pulse doing laps in your throat.

kotoha was wiping a tray clean, but her eyes flicked up the second you crossed into her space.

she didn’t say anything at first. just passed you a small towel and gestured to the line of drink orders she was already halfway through.

you nodded and moved into place beside her.

but the silence was… expectant.

she finally spoke, voice low and even.

“…what did you do to sakura?”

you paused, hand hovering over the cold brew glass.

“what?” you asked, blinking.

“he’s in the booth with his head on the table. he hasn’t moved. looks like someone drop-kicked his pride.”

you stifled a smile. “i just asked him for his drink order.”

kotoha raised a brow. “that’s it?”

you nodded, pouring oat milk into ren’s coffee. “he exploded.”

“sounds about right,” she murmured. “he’s always been hopeless when a girl talks to him. but that was… worse than usual.”

you glanced toward the booth. sakura was still hunched over like a robot that had short-circuited mid-sentence. tsugeura was poking him with a straw and getting no response.

“maybe he’s sick,” you offered.

kotoha didn’t answer. she just turned, plated a slice of cake, and passed it to you.

“and what about ren?”

you blinked again. “what about him?”

“he stared at you like you’d committed a crime.”

“…i didn’t.”

“i know,” she said flatly. “but i’ve never seen him look at someone that long without saying a word. you’re either a ghost, or he’s trying to figure out if you’re a puzzle piece from a box he lost.”

you quietly slid the cold brew onto the tray.

“you sure you’ve never met any of them before?” she asked.

you kept your back to her as you reached for napkins.

“pretty sure.”

“mm.”

she didn’t believe you.

not entirely.

but she wasn’t pressing it yet, either.

“…you and suo have the same ears,” she said suddenly.

your hand froze midair. “what?”

“your ears. kind of stick out in the same way. and your jawlines are similar. your eyes are different, though. his look like he’s hiding a joke. yours look like you’re hiding a story.”

you turned slowly. “you’re really good at that.”

“working here means reading people,” she said, shrugging. “plus, i grew up with half that table. i know when something’s weird.”

you looked away, voice quieter.

“…so you think i’m weird?”

kotoha passed you a fork, smirking slightly.

“no. i think you’re hiding something. which is different. and more fun.”

you were about to answer when umemiya shouted from the booth.

“hey! pothos girls! we’re out of napkins and my cake’s lonely!”

kotoha rolled her eyes. “drama king.”

you reached for the tray. she handed it to you, fingers brushing yours.

“just so you know,” she said casually, “if you ever want to talk about whatever story your eyes are hiding—i’m a good listener.”

you smiled, small but sincere.

“thanks.”

“don’t thank me,” she said, flipping her out of her face. “you still have to serve a table full of sweaty fighters and one guy who hasn’t blinked since you walked in.”

you looked toward ren.

he was still staring.

you looked away just as fast.

you balanced the tray carefully as you approached the booth — cold brew, cake, napkins, and nerves all in one shaky grip.

the table was a mess of bodies and banter. umemiya was dramatically flopped across the bench like he’d just won a brawl against the entire concept of manners. tsugeura was arguing with hiragi over who bled more during the fight. kiryu was calmly sipping tea he didn’t order, looking like he hadn’t moved in hours. and nirei was still pacing nearby, muttering to himself about health codes.

sakura… had his face buried in his arms like the world was ending.

you stopped at the edge of the booth and cleared your throat gently. “cold brew, extra ice, oat milk, no joy?”

ren looked up.

not in surprise — just… acknowledgment.

you placed the drink in front of him and were about to pull your hand back when he didn’t take it.

he just stared at it. then at you.

then back at it.

you swallowed.

“it’s yours,” you said, a little softer.

“thanks,” he said finally, taking it without looking away.

you turned to set down the cake when umemiya clapped his hands loudly, grinning.

“look at her go. grace under pressure. how’s it feel, ren? being served by someone that flusters you?”

ren didn’t blink. “you’re loud.”

“i’m a people person.”

“you’re a hazard.”

“same thing.”

you were fighting a smile when kiryu chimed in without lifting his gaze from the steam rising off his cup.

“you’re handling us really well,” he said to you, voice low and lilting. “most people cry the first week.”

“not helping,” nirei hissed from somewhere behind you, still hovering. “don’t scare her, don’t scare her, oh god is that a hair on the cake?”

“that’s your own,” tsugeura grumbled.

you placed the last napkin on the table and nodded politely. “is there anything else i can get you?”

“yeah,” umemiya said, mouth full of frosting. “a new body. mine’s broken.”

“i’ll ask kotoha,” you said.

a low snort came from sakura’s side of the booth. he peeked up just enough to see your face again, then immediately slammed his head back down.

“don’t look at me,” he mumbled into the wood.

you turned to go, but paused when ren finally took a sip of the cold brew.

you glanced over your shoulder.

he was still watching you.

expression unreadable.

like he was trying to place a song he’d only ever heard in a dream.

you quickly looked away.

and tried not to run back to the counter.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

the light had turned golden.

the kind of golden that made the windows of the café glow soft and syrupy, like the world was being dipped in warm honey. even the chipped mugs on the counter looked kind of magical in it.

you were wiping down a table with half-dried latte art when kotoha’s voice cut through the haze.

“alright,” she called out, hands on hips, “last call was twenty minutes ago. you’ve all had sugar and caffeine. get out.”

“but my legs are jelly,” umemiya whined dramatically, slumping across the booth like he was about to become part of the upholstery.

“my heart still hurts,” sakura muttered, face still half-hidden by the table.

“my brain is overheating,” nirei added, clutching his temple.

“you guys bled on the sidewalk and then bled on my floor,” kotoha snapped. “you think i’m scared of your feelings?”

“kinda,” tsugeura said under his breath.

“out.”

“you’re so cold,” umemiya mumbled.

“and i’ll be even colder if you don’t move.”

there was a slow shuffle of resistance — bags being slung over shoulders, empty plates reluctantly abandoned, cracked knuckles and mock groans filling the air.

you were about to collect the last mug when suo brushed past the others and walked over to your side.

you looked up, and he was already smiling — soft, familiar.

“i’ll wait for you outside,” he said simply, low enough that only you could hear.

your fingers curled around the handle of the mug. “you sure?”

he nodded once, calm as always.

then added, “don’t take too long. i don’t want you walking alone in the dark.”

you bit the inside of your cheek, a small warmth flickering in your chest.

“okay,” you said. “just a few more minutes.”

he nodded again, gave you a little shoulder tap, and turned to slip out the front door — just as ren stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder, and caught the tail end of your conversation.

he didn’t say anything.

but his eyes followed suo’s back as it disappeared out into the dusk.

and then flicked right back to you.

silent.

searching.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

the sun was gone.

the streets were washed in indigo, and the streetlights buzzed faintly overhead, casting stretched shadows across the pavement.

ren walked with his hands in his pockets, white bluetooth headphones hanging loosely around his neck. no music played — he hadn’t turned them on once since he left the café.

he could still hear the dull echo of laughter behind him. pothos closing for the night, kotoha’s sharp voice snapping at umemiya to stop leaning on the doorframe. usual stuff.

he should’ve tuned it out.

he usually did.

but tonight, something felt… off.

he passed the convenience store. the light inside flickered as he walked by — like it recognized him and was too tired to greet him.

his steps slowed slightly.

he wasn’t replaying what happened.

he didn’t need to.

it was still playing on its own.

the way suo had leaned in close to her.

the soft voice — the one he usually only used when someone was already bleeding.

the look — not just friendly. not teammate-to-stranger. something… older. deeper.

ren clicked his tongue quietly.

not jealousy. not suspicion.

just curiosity.

laced with a strange, brittle feeling he couldn’t name.

his fingers brushed the side of his headphone. he thought about turning on a playlist. drowning it out.

but the silence… was better.

he could still hear her voice in it.

nervous, trying not to stammer.

he remembered how she had fidgeted with the corner of the tray, how she’d flinched slightly when umemiya spoke too loud. how she’d tried not to meet his gaze — but did anyway.

for half a second.

a long half-second.

his breath fogged slightly in the cooling air.

he looked up. the wind shifted through the phone lines and bent the tops of the trees.

he kept walking.

slower now.

like something — or someone — had left a mark on the sidewalk behind him.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

the morning air was sharper than yesterday.

sunlight cut through the mist like broken glass — clear and cold, almost too bright for how quiet everything felt. your boots tapped lightly along the pavement as you rounded the corner, expecting to see the café door propped open like always.

but instead — you heard it.

“get off me, freak—!”

kotoha.

you dropped your bag immediately and ran.

the alley beside café pothos was narrow and shadowed, light barely touching the cracked cement. and there — just ahead — were three high school boys, maybe second or third years, none of them from furin. their uniforms were scuffed, untucked, their laughs dry and mean.

you dropped your bag immediately and ran.

two of them had kotoha by the arms.

she was fighting, but their grips were tight, deliberate — not just a dumb prank. they were trying to provoke something.

you didn’t stop to think.

“hey!” you shouted, your voice snapping like a whip across the alley.

all three heads turned.

that was enough.

you surged forward, ducking under one of their arms and slamming your elbow straight into his ribs. he let out a choked grunt and loosened his hold just enough for kotoha to twist free.

you shoved her hard. “go!”

“what—? i’m not leaving you—!”

“kotoha, now!”

your voice cracked with something you didn’t recognize.

she stared — a beat — then turned and bolted, yelling something over her shoulder. but you couldn’t catch the words.

because a hand had already grabbed your jacket.

the third guy yanked you back, knocking the air from your lungs, and the one you’d hit was getting up fast. they weren’t stronger, but they were faster now — pissed, careless.

“stupid,” one of them spat. “wasn’t even about you.”

you glared. “then get out.”

but they didn’t.

instead, one stepped forward, grabbing your chin to look you over.

you jerked your face away, teeth clenched, but he held on.

“feisty one,” he said, grinning.

you clawed at him, landing a kick to his knee.

but that’s when the guy you’d elbowed reappeared — this time, with a box cutter.

blade extended.

eyes lit.

he slashed without hesitation — a wide, shallow sweep.

you turned just enough — but not fast enough. the blade kissed your cheek, leaving a thin, burning line beneath your eye.

the blood came warm, trailing down to your jaw.

you didn’t cry out — just hissed between clenched teeth.

he grinned.

“shouldn’t’ve stepped in,” he said. “you’re real dumb, you know that?”

then the guy pinning you squinted.

tilted his head.

“…yo. hold up. don’t she look like that dude from furin? the smiley one?”

“suo?” the other said, laughing. “yo, she does. creepy.”

they both laughed.

and then the air shifted.

hard. heavy. final.

footsteps echoed — not running, but slow. deliberate.

a rhythm that said they had all the time in the world… because you didn’t.

“what the hell’s goin’ on back here?”

the alley changed.

six shadows appeared like they belonged there — like they owned the street beneath their shoes.

umemiya hajime stepped in first — tall, calm, coat loose, hands in his pockets, but his eyes locked sharp on the scene.

beside him, hiragi, all pointed hair and sharp teeth, grin wide with interest.

sakura was next, eyes mismatched — honey and gray — glinting with quiet fury.

then kiryu, pink hair swept back, cool as ever, piercings glinting like warning lights.

tsugeura, tense and wired, fists twitching.

and finally, ren kaji — lollipop between his lips, bluetooth headphones resting over his ears, white hair tousled like always. unreadable.

none of them spoke.

they didn’t need to.

within seconds, the fight was over.

hiragi slammed one kid into the wall, tsugeura shattered the blade underfoot, kiryu yanked another down without breaking his grin. one ran. umemiya didn’t even flinch.

you stood there, panting, blood on your cheek.

kotoha appeared again, rushing to your side. “you’re hurt—!”

“i’m fine,” you murmured, even though your legs wobbled.

then she paused.

eyes wide.

“…yo. hold up. don’t she look like that dude from furin? the smiley one?”

“suo?”

“…suo?” she whispered.

she stared at you now.

really stared.

your eyes. your jaw. your posture.

the blood on your cheek.

and it clicked.

“…you’re suo’s sister.”

the bell above the door jingled as she dragged you inside.

“sit,” she muttered, rushing behind the counter for the first-aid kit.

you didn’t argue.

your cheek was still bleeding — slow now, but sticky. the cut stung as the air hit it, and your pulse thudded in your ear, too fast, too heavy.

kotoha returned with a warm cloth and antiseptic, kneeling in front of you without a word. she didn’t ask if it would hurt. she didn’t have to.

you winced as she dabbed at the wound, careful but firm.

it was quiet — painfully so — until she finally spoke.

“…you okay?”

you nodded, swallowing. “yeah.”

she didn’t look convinced.

and she didn’t move away, not yet.

her eyes flicked up, scanning your face again — more intensely this time.

“those guys,” she started slowly, voice low, “they said you looked like someone.”

you went still.

“…suo.”

your breath caught — just barely.

kotoha leaned back on her heels, squinting. “they’re not wrong. you’ve got the same smile.”

you avoided her eyes.

“…i don’t know what you mean.”

she let out a soft, skeptical breath. not angry — just tired.

“you show up out of nowhere,” she said. “transfer in. suddenly start working here. and today, out there, you throw yourself in front of a bunch of idiots just to protect me without even blinking.”

she stood, arms crossing loosely.

“you’re brave. reckless. stupid, maybe. sounds like someone else i know.”

you gave her a tight smile. “maybe i’ve just got a type.”

she raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

you tried to deflect, standing. “thanks for patching me up.”

but before you could step past her, her hand caught your arm — gentle, not forceful.

“…you’re his sister, aren’t you?”

the silence between you turned solid.

you hesitated.

and then: “you can’t tell anyone.”

kotoha blinked. “why?”

you looked toward the door — as if suo might walk in at any moment, as if he could explain it all better than you ever could.

“it’s just better that way,” you said finally, voice quiet. “no one’s supposed to know.”

kotoha didn’t press.

she just studied you for another beat.

then let go of your arm.

“…fine,” she said softly, finally.

“but you better tell me why someday.”

you nodded once.

and the doorbell jingled again as the silence settled.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

the sky was streaked orange and violet by the time you locked the café behind you.

the day had stretched long — from your morning shift to the alley fight to kotoha’s quiet confrontation — and you hadn’t even realized how exhausted you were until you saw suo leaning against the lamppost just outside, hands in his jacket pockets.

“you waited?” you asked, stepping toward him.

he smiled — calm and easy, like always.

“you think i’d let you walk home alone after getting your face sliced open?”

you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small tug of a smile. “it’s not that bad.”

his eyes flicked to the bandage on your cheek.

“sure,” he said lightly. “definitely not the kind of injury that turns our mom into a nuclear bomb when she finds out.”

you groaned. “you wouldn’t.”

“no promises.”

the two of you walked quietly for a bit. the streets were still, the occasional buzz of a cicada or the shuffle of a cat passing behind a gate the only sounds.

you glanced at him. “you’re really not gonna tell anyone, right?”

he shook his head. “not unless you want me to.”

you nodded, relieved.

but then he added, too casually, “that said — i’m assigning someone to watch you.”

you stopped mid-step, frowning. “what?”

“you heard me.” he gave you that calm, sunny smile that always meant trouble. “you’ve clearly got a talent for landing yourself in the worst places.”

“i was helping kotoha!”

“and bleeding. don’t forget that part.”

you groaned again and shoved his arm, but he didn’t budge.

“so what, you’re assigning a bodyguard?”

“something like that.” he lifted a hand to his chin, mock thoughtful. “maybe nirei? he’s soft. polite. he’d carry your bags.”

you snorted. “nirei would pass out if someone looked at us wrong.”

“true,” suo nodded. “okay, then what about sakura?”

you blinked. “haruka? he’d either ignore me completely or scream every time i speak.”

“…so like a very loud scarecrow,” he muttered.

you burst out laughing.

he joined in for a moment — that same lighthearted grin on his face — before his expression softened just a little.

“…joking aside,” he said. “i’ll probably talk to ren.”

you paused.

“ren kaji?”

suo nodded. “he’s sharp. serious. doesn’t say much, but he sees everything. if anyone can keep you safe without drawing attention, it’s him.”

you glanced down at your shoes.

suo smiled again, slower this time. “don’t look so shocked. you already caught his attention, anyway.”

“what?” you looked up quickly.

he shrugged. “he was the first one to notice you weren’t around when kotoha ran in. he didn’t say much, but he was the first out the door.”

your heart thudded — just once, loud and uncertain.

“anyway,” suo said, stretching his arms above his head as you reached your neighborhood corner, “no need to stress. he probably won’t talk to you at all. he’s a professional.”

you narrowed your eyes. “you’re enjoying this.”

“what? me?” he gasped, hand on his chest. “your loving brother?”

you punched his arm.

“ow.”

you stopped in front of your apartment and turned toward him.

“thanks for walking me.”

he smiled, soft now. “always.”

and then he leaned in, tapping just beside the bandage on your cheek.

“don’t make this a habit.”

you saluted half-heartedly, and he walked off down the street, whistling like he hadn’t just casually rearranged your entire week.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

the back room of furin’s gym was quiet, lit only by the dim fluorescents overhead. a sharp contrast from the earlier commotion. bandages were rolled neatly on a shelf, the scent of disinfectant clinging to the air like something permanent.

ren leaned his back against the cool wall, arms crossed, white headphones over his ears but not playing anything. a lollipop stuck between his lips, turning slowly as he watched suo sitting on the bench across from him, absently tapping the heel of his palm against his knee.

“you wanted something?” ren asked, finally breaking the silence. his tone was flat, but not unkind.

suo glanced up with his usual easygoing smile, though there was something behind it tonight. something a little more serious.

“yeah. i’ve got a favor to ask.”

ren didn’t move.

suo leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his thighs. “it’s about her.”

ren’s jaw shifted slightly, the lollipop rolling to the other side of his mouth.

“…the new girl?”

suo nodded.

ren’s brow ticked. “why?”

suo shrugged like it was no big deal. “just… want you to keep an eye on her.”

ren’s stare lingered.

he didn’t nod. didn’t agree.

instead, he asked, “you don’t ask for favors unless you’ve got a reason.”

suo’s smile twitched.

“so what is it?”

for a second, suo didn’t answer. then he rubbed the back of his neck, glanced off to the side, and said casually, “she’s new in town. kind of reckless. got mixed up in something stupid today. i figure, she needs someone with a level head around.”

ren didn’t buy it. not entirely.

he tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly.

“you don’t ask me to babysit strangers.”

suo let out a quiet laugh. “i’m not asking you to babysit. just… be around. that’s all.”

ren was still staring. still unconvinced.

suo caught it and sighed through his nose.

“look, i’ll be honest,” he said, quieter now. “i trust you more than anyone else in furin. and for reasons i can’t fully explain right now, i just want to make sure she’s okay. she’s not exactly fragile, but…”

he trailed off, smile softening at the edges.

“i don’t know. maybe it’s a gut thing.”

ren’s gaze lingered for a few seconds longer.

gut thing, huh?

he took the lollipop out of his mouth and stared at it like it had answers. it didn’t.

but suo was serious. and that wasn’t something ren ignored.

“…fine,” he said finally. “but if this is some weird setup, i’m not babysitting.”

suo chuckled. “i wouldn’t do that to you.”

ren stuck the lollipop back in, pushed off the wall, and started heading toward the door.

“you already are,” he muttered.

suo laughed again. “thank you, ren.”

ren didn’t answer. just raised a hand over his shoulder as he walked out.

the door clicked shut behind him.

and outside, under the night sky, ren felt the smallest prickle of something unexpected:

curiosity.

and maybe, just maybe—

a strange sense that whatever this was?

it was going to change something.

the next day, ren showed up earlier than usual.

not by much — just ten minutes or so before the rest of the group. enough to avoid suspicion. enough to linger near the corner of the café, not really blending in, but not drawing attention either. white headphones snug over his ears, lollipop tucked between his teeth. same slouched posture, same unreadable stare.

from where he sat, he could see her through the window. already wiping down the tables with the sleeves rolled up past her elbows, hair pulled back with a loose clip that kept slipping. she laughed at something kotoha said — that soft kind of laugh that disappeared almost as fast as it came.

he didn’t move. just watched.

she didn’t notice him that first day.

too busy. too new. too distracted by trays and customers and the chaos that always came with lunch rush at café pothos.

but by the second day?

she hesitated near the window.

her eyes caught on him — only for a second. quick enough to register a stranger, someone who wasn’t quite a regular. maybe she thought she recognized him from the fight. maybe not.

on the third day, she glanced again. slower this time.

by the fourth, she paused while clearing one of the outdoor tables and looked directly at him. just for a moment. not rude, not suspicious. just curious.

and ren, naturally, pretended not to notice.

he stared ahead. lollipop spinning. music not even playing.

but inside, he was very aware.

she was starting to piece it together.

he could tell in the way her eyes would flick toward him when she thought he wasn’t looking. the way her brows furrowed slightly, like a puzzle was starting to form.

kotoha noticed too, in her own way. muttered something to the reader during their shift about a “favorite white-haired regular” and “weirdly loyal customers.” ren had half a mind to leave after that, but his job wasn’t done.

by the fifth day, he stopped pretending.

he stood a little closer when she brought out the signboard that morning. didn’t say anything — just held the door open without being asked. she thanked him, a little cautiously.

“you’re here a lot,” she said, watching him from the corner of her eye.

ren shrugged, unbothered. “good coffee.”

“you haven’t ordered anything yet.”

“still deciding.”

a beat.

“…it’s been five days.”

he smirked around his lollipop. “i take my time.”

she looked at him, half-smiling, not sure what to make of that. she didn’t press. didn’t call him out. but he could tell — she wasn’t buying it.

and for some reason?

that made him intrigued by her a little bit more.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

the sun was just starting to mellow into gold, casting soft shadows across the café floor. the post-lunch lull had settled in, leaving only a few scattered customers and the occasional clink of ceramic cups being cleared.

ren had claimed his usual spot again — by the window, arms crossed, headphones on, white hair half-shadowed by the light filtering through the blinds. a lollipop shifted lazily between his teeth, gaze half-lidded and seemingly uninterested in anything.

until she stepped over, hands tucked in the pockets of her apron, a look on her face that was too amused to be casual.

“you really think you’re subtle, huh?”

ren blinked once. looked up.

“…huh?”

“don’t play dumb,” she said, smiling slightly as she leaned against the table, crossing one ankle over the other. “you’ve been showing up here every day for the past week. no coffee. no food. just sitting there. watching.”

he stayed quiet. unreadable.

“you’re not even lowkey about it anymore,” she added. “you held the door for me yesterday and tried to act like it wasn’t a big deal.”

ren shrugged, shifting his lollipop from one side of his mouth to the other.

“good manners.”

“creepy timing.”

he snorted at that, briefly amused.

“i knew,” she said, softer now. “the whole time.”

his gaze sharpened.

“but i figured,” she went on, “if you were gonna hover around like some poorly disguised guard dog, the least i could do was mess with you a little.”

his eyes narrowed just slightly. “why didn’t you say anything?”

she tilted her head. “and ruin the fun?”

he didn’t answer. just watched her — the smirk at the corners of her mouth, the sharp wit in her tone, and underneath it all, the fact that she was actively avoiding mentioning the obvious: suo.

she knew why he was here.

she just wasn’t saying it out loud.

“besides,” she added, tapping the edge of his table lightly, “you’re not bad company. weirdly quiet, kind of intense. but not terrible.”

he rolled the lollipop against his teeth again. “…thanks, i guess.”

“don’t let it go to your head.”

and with that, she turned and walked off, ponytail swaying slightly with each step.

ren watched her go, the faintest flicker of something warm settling in his chest.

he wasn’t sure if it was annoyance or something dangerously close to liking her.

later that day, ren had just stepped around the side of the building when suo fell into step next to him like he’d been waiting.

“yo.”

ren didn’t look at him. “how long were you standing there?”

“long enough,” suo grinned, hands in his pockets. “you two looked like you were getting along.”

ren rolled his eyes and kept walking.

suo followed easily. “so? how’s the watching going?”

“she already knew.”

suo raised his brows, clearly not surprised.

“said she figured it out day two.”

“makes sense,” suo nodded. “she’s sharp.”

“said she was messing with me.”

“also tracks.”

ren popped a new lollipop in his mouth, letting the wrapper fall into his hoodie pocket. “you didn’t tell her i’d be watching.”

“nope.”

ren shot him a look.

suo just smiled wider. “figured it’d be more fun that way.”

“you’re annoying.”

“and you’re attached.”

ren stopped walking.

“…what?”

suo kept going, calling over his shoulder. “nothing~!”

ren stood there, the sunset brushing soft orange across the street, the echo of her voice — you’re not bad company — still tugging at the edges of his mind.

he let out a slow breath, bitter cherry and amusement on his tongue.

“…damn it.”

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

the next week came quietly — but not without change.

it started small.

day one: you brought him a glass of water.

“you look like you’re gonna melt sitting there all afternoon,” you said, setting it down on his table without waiting for him to ask. “figured you’d need something before you turn into dust.”

ren raised an eyebrow, removing one side of his headphones.

“i’m good.”

“sure,” you replied, already walking off. “but drink it anyway.”

he stared at the condensation trickling down the side of the glass before giving in. it wasn’t about the water.

it was the way you noticed.

day two: he responded first.

“you always open alone?” he asked, voice low but even.

you blinked, surprised he was the one to break the silence this time. “mostly. kotoha usually comes in around ten.”

ren nodded once, headphones still on but not playing music. he watched you wipe down the same table twice, more fidgety than usual.

“you don’t get bored sitting here?”

“i like routine.”

“this is your routine now?”

he didn’t answer. you took that as a yes.

day three: you made fun of him again.

“so what’s the deal with the lollipops? nervous habit?”

ren didn’t look up from where he was slouched against the windowsill, one leg bent, the lollipop stick angled lazily out of his mouth.

“keeps my mouth busy.”

you snorted. “you could try smiling sometime.”

he shifted the lollipop to the other side of his mouth. “i do.”

“right. once every lunar eclipse.”

“twice,” he corrected flatly.

that made you laugh.

it stuck with him longer than he expected.

day four: he walked you out after close.

“you know,” you said as you locked up the front door, “you don’t have to stay here the entire day. there’s gotta be better ways to waste your time.”

ren didn’t reply right away, just walked beside you as you crossed the street. the evening was quiet, warm wind brushing against your clothes and the scent of brewed coffee still clinging to your hair.

“it’s not a waste.”

you looked over at him, curious.

he didn’t say anything else.

you didn’t push.

day five: you offered him a drink.

“on the house,” you said, sliding over a cup of iced coffee with a straw. “you’ve earned it.”

“for what?”

“being slightly less creepy.”

“mm,” he hummed. “progress.”

you smiled faintly, fiddling with a sugar packet. “you’re not that hard to talk to, you know.”

ren glanced at you, expression unreadable as always, but something softened.

“you’re not either.”

and maybe you were imagining it — but you swore he smiled. just for a second.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

it was mid-afternoon, and café pothos was busier than usual — the after-school crowd trickling in, laughter and heat pooling inside the warm-toned space.

ren had his usual corner.

headphones over his ears.

back to the wall.

eyes occasionally flicking up every time you passed by the counter.

it wasn’t obvious — not to anyone who didn’t already know — but he was tuned into your movements like background noise he couldn’t shut off.

and that’s when it happened.

a couple of third-year boys from a different school sat at the high table near ren’s booth, talking low but not exactly being quiet.

“isn’t that furin’s hayato suo?”

ren’s eye twitched slightly at the name. he didn’t turn, just listened.

“yeah, looks like it. didn’t know he had a girlfriend though.”

“huh? wait, you mean—?”

ren shifted, gaze sharpening. he followed their eyes to where suo was crouched behind the counter, helping his sister restock supplies in the back shelf, both of you laughing quietly about something he’d said.

the boys chuckled.

“man, didn’t think he was the relationship type.”

“nah, makes sense. she kinda looks like him, though.”

“weirdly cute, honestly.”

ren blinked.

girlfriend.

cute.

he stared down into the slowly melting ice in his cup, jaw ticking for a half-second before he pushed his lollipop to the other side of his mouth with a dry click.

you weren’t correcting them.

you weren’t rushing to explain.

and suo, dumbass that he was, didn’t seem to notice the assumption either.

ren didn’t understand why it bothered him.

just that it did.

a minute later, you walked back out front with a new order slip and shot ren a glance over your shoulder — just a flicker of a smile, something you hadn’t even meant to send his way.

and still.

he looked away.

but not before you noticed the shift in his expression.

ren walked home slower than usual.

his lollipop was half-dissolved, the taste dulled. he hadn’t even noticed when he’d put it in his mouth — just that it was there. routine. automatic.

kind of like everything else lately.

he tugged his headphones lower around his neck, letting the city hum around him. the streets were mostly empty. muted orange light pooled on the sidewalks, fading into long shadows.

he should’ve let it go.

they were just some random guys. some offhand comment. background noise.

but the words kept replaying.

“isn’t that furin’s hayato suo?”

“didn’t know he had a girlfriend though.”

girlfriend.

he clicked the lollipop between his teeth.

you weren’t suo’s girlfriend.

…right?

you never corrected them.

you didn’t laugh or flinch or wave it off. you just kept moving like you didn’t hear — or maybe like you didn’t mind.

he ran a hand through his hair. it was a stupid thing to be thinking about. he didn’t care who you smiled at. not really. not even a little.

you were just someone he was keeping an eye on.

that’s all this was.

and yet—

he’d noticed it before. the way you talked to suo. a little too close. comfortable. protective, even. the way suo hovered around you when he thought no one was watching. the way your laughs weren’t the usual kind — they were familiar. layered.

something wasn’t adding up.

he wasn’t the type to poke around. he didn’t like drama. didn’t like guessing games.

but now?

his stomach wouldn’t stop twisting.

he stopped walking somewhere near the convenience store, lollipop grinding between his molars. he didn’t know if he was annoyed, or irritated, or—

jealous?

his jaw tightened.

“tch.”

he wasn’t supposed to be noticing this kind of thing.

he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about what it meant when someone else made you laugh — or why it made him feel like someone shoved a wedge of static into his chest.

he didn’t even know you like that.

you were just someone he’d been told to look after.

and now he couldn’t stop looking.

he shoved his hands into his pockets, lollipop cracking a little between his back teeth.

and still, even as he told himself that over and over…

he kept thinking about the way your eyes had flicked toward him after those guys said it.

like maybe you’d noticed something in his face.

and maybe… liked it.

his ears burned.

he bit down harder on the lollipop, until the candy split in half and the stick scraped against his teeth.

“damn it,” he muttered, under his breath this time.

he didn’t like you.

he didn’t.

and he definitely didn’t want to think about what would happen if you ever smiled at someone else the way you did at him.

you noticed it the next morning.

the shift.

it wasn’t loud or dramatic. nothing anyone else would’ve caught. but you’d seen ren kaji enough in the last week to know what his stillness meant — and this kind wasn’t his usual detached silence.

this wasn’t his “don’t bother me” quiet.

this was something else.

he didn’t look at you when you walked into the café. just sat there, headphones pulled low, lollipop in his mouth like always, gaze focused out the window like the sky had something more interesting to offer than you.

and maybe it did.

but it still made something in your chest twitch.

you greeted kotoha, tied your apron, got to work — but every time you moved behind the counter, you could feel him notice. brief flickers. eyes tracking. then immediately turning away.

you smirked to yourself.

so.

that’s how he wanted to play it.

fine.

you dried your hands on a towel, took a breath, and headed toward his booth — not to take his order (you already knew it), not to bother him really — just to exist in his space for a few seconds longer than you usually would.

he didn’t look up.

you leaned your elbow against the edge of his table, tilting your head slightly.

“you know,” you said casually, eyes sweeping the room, “if you’re gonna come in every day and stare at me, you could at least pretend to be interested.”

that got him.

his eyes finally slid up, slow and unimpressed. candy stick clicking softly between his teeth. he didn’t say anything at first. just stared — blank, unreadable.

but the edge of his jaw twitched.

you grinned.

“not gonna deny it?” you asked, resting your chin on your hand now, completely in his space.

he didn’t blink.

“…you’re annoying,” he muttered at last, voice low and flat.

but you caught it — the quick glance away, the faint flush across the bridge of his nose, the way he pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek like he was chewing down a stronger reaction.

you straightened up, satisfied.

“mm. and you are very bad at hiding things.”

his gaze snapped back to you, sharper now.

“i’m not hiding anything.”

“sure you’re not,” you teased, turning away before he could say more. “enjoy your drink, stalker.”

you felt his stare follow you back behind the counter.

and you didn’t look back.

but you smiled to yourself the whole way.

the rest of the day moved like honey — warm, sweet, and slow enough to stick.

ren didn’t talk to you again.

not after that moment.

he stayed seated longer than usual, headphones slipped back over his ears, arms crossed, head tipped lazily toward the window like he could sleep through the weight of your words.

but you saw it.

you saw the way his gaze trailed after you whenever you turned your back.

you saw how he stopped chewing his lollipop after you walked off — like he was thinking too hard to bother.

and still, he never said anything else.

you weren’t surprised. guys like ren didn’t flinch easily. and if they did — they sure as hell didn’t talk about it.

kotoha picked up on something, though.

she kept giving you side-glances between wiping down the espresso machine and calling out orders. once, she muttered something like, “you two have weird air today,” and you just shrugged, pretending not to notice the strange churn in your chest.

you didn’t see ren leave.

when you realized his booth was empty, a weird kind of disappointment slipped into your stomach — dull, quiet, but persistent. you brushed it off, went back to work, and stayed until the sky was streaked with deep lavender.

that night, when you were closing with kotoha, she leaned on the counter and eyed you.

“so.”

you didn’t look up from stacking the cups. “so?”

“you and ren.”

you raised a brow. “me and ren what?”

“weird air,” she repeated.

you snorted. “he’s always weird.”

“no, he’s usually emotionally distant. today he was…” she squinted at you. “tense.”

“he’s not tense,” you said quickly. then paused. “okay, maybe a little.”

kotoha tapped a finger against the counter. “did you say something?”

“…maybe.”

“did he react?”

“in ren language, yes.”

“so that means…?” she tilted her head.

“he called me annoying.”

kotoha broke into a small laugh. “wow. scandalous.”

you rolled your eyes, but the smile pulled at your lips anyway.

as you walked home alone that night, hands stuffed in your pockets, you didn’t expect to think about it again.

but your steps slowed a little as you passed the alley near the café. the one where ren used to linger with his back to the brick wall, one earphone in, lollipop in place, arms crossed like he belonged to the silence.

he wasn’t there tonight.

and the air felt strangely too quiet without him.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

ren found them exactly where he figured they’d be — sprawled out behind the gym building like they had no responsibilities in the world.

suo was leaning back on his elbows, eyes half-lidded in the sun, surrounded by taiga and kiryu who were mid-argument over whether pineapple belonged on pizza, and nirei who was nervously laughing while pretending to clean his glasses for the fifth time.

ren stopped just short of the group and pulled his headphones down around his neck.

“hey.”

suo opened one eye. “ren. what’s up?”

ren crossed his arms. “i’m done.”

taiga paused mid-hand gesture. kiryu blinked.

suo sat up slowly. “done with what?”

“watching her,” ren muttered, staring off to the side, like if he didn’t meet anyone’s eyes, this wouldn’t sound as stupid as it felt.

a beat of silence.

“ohhhh,” kiryu said, eyes lighting up. “he means your girl.”

“she’s not—” ren paused. jaw clenched. “she’s your problem.”

suo tilted his head, that same calm, unreadable smile sitting on his lips. “problem?”

“you assigned me to keep an eye on her,” ren continued. “but if she’s so important to you, maybe you should stop pawning her off.”

nirei immediately panicked. “w-wait, is this about her safety or something else or… or did she get mad?! is someone mad?!”

taiga leaned toward kiryu. “you think they fought?”

kiryu grinned. “nah. ren’s acting weird. definitely jealousy.”

“shut up,” ren snapped, eyes darting back to suo. “i just think you should look after your own girlfriend.”

suo blinked. then — laughed.

“girlfriend?” he echoed, tilting his head. “you think she’s my girlfriend?”

ren’s jaw tightened. “isn’t she?”

“nope.”

“then what the hell is she?”

“someone really important to me,” suo said easily, smile still there, not a single crack in his voice. “but she’d be annoyed if i was around all the time.”

taiga blinked. “wait, wait, wait… if she’s not your girlfriend and she’s important and you don’t want to say why…”

nirei gasped. “are you guys secretly engaged?!”

kiryu chuckled. “plot twist.”

suo just smiled.

ren narrowed his eyes. “you’re not gonna answer that?”

“nope.”

“you’re seriously not gonna tell anyone what your deal is with her?”

suo shrugged. “nope.”

taiga groaned dramatically. “come on!”

“hey, you’re the one who assumed she was my girlfriend,” suo added, nudging ren with a playful elbow. “interesting.”

“not interesting,” ren muttered, turning away with a scowl. “just confusing.”

kiryu leaned back on his hands. “you know what’s more confusing? why ren suddenly cares so much.”

“i don’t,” ren said immediately.

too immediately.

everyone stared at him.

suo, still smiling, finally stood up and dusted off his pants. “thanks for doing it as long as you did. really.”

“whatever,” ren muttered, turning on his heel. “you can explain to her why your random friend won’t be loitering at her work anymore.”

suo didn’t stop him.

but ren could feel his eyes on his back — quiet, knowing, and infuriatingly amused.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

the café felt weirdly… quiet.

which was insane, because the same three regulars were still arguing about card games in the corner, kotoha was still humming off-key while cleaning mugs, and the milk steamer still hissed like an angry cat.

but still.

he wasn’t there.

you glanced at the booth by the window.

empty.

no long legs stretched out beneath the table, no white headphones pressed to his ears, no stupid lollipop stick between his lips like he wasn’t even enjoying it, just chewing through something to survive.

you tried not to let it bug you. really.

but by the third time you looked at that booth in the span of ten minutes, kotoha narrowed her eyes and went, “…he didn’t die, you know.”

you immediately turned around. “who?”

“uh-huh,” she said, already not believing you.

you grabbed your coat and pushed through the front door before you could think about it too hard.

you found suo leaning against a vending machine near the back of the school building, pretending to text even though the screen brightness was turned all the way down.

“hey.”

he looked up, surprised. “you okay?”

you crossed your arms. “where’s ren?”

he blinked. “…he has a name now?”

you ignored the jab. “he didn’t show up today.”

“wow, someone’s observant.”

“don’t be annoying.”

suo smirked and put his phone away. “you’re looking for him?”

you shrugged, noncommittal. “just thought i’d check.”

“sure.”

“…he usually drops by. without ordering anything. and glares at the menu for thirty minutes.”

“sounds like ren.”

“so where is he?”

suo straightened and rubbed the back of his neck. “i may have told him he was off duty.”

your stomach twisted a little. “off duty?”

“yeah. no more designated staring.”

“so you assigned him to stalk me.”

“don’t make it sound weird,” he laughed.

you stared at him.

“…okay, it was weird,” he admitted. “but it was for your safety!”

you sighed. “well. he’s gone now.”

“you sound disappointed.”

you glanced off to the side. “…maybe i am.”

suo blinked. then grinned. “no way. are you—do you like him?”

you said nothing.

suo clutched his chest like you had stabbed him. “you like—you like ren kaji?! mister ‘i wear headphones to ignore the world’?? mister ‘don’t talk to me or i’ll die’??”

you rolled your eyes. “he’s not that dramatic.”

“you’ve literally said he breathes like a sleep paralysis demon.”

“well yeah, but like—in a cool way.”

suo looked horrified. “oh my god. you like him.”

you tried to glare, but it didn’t stick.

suo softened slightly. “you know… it’s kinda adorable.”

“…you’re not gonna punch him?”

“i definitely am, but ren’s alright.”

you raised a brow. “you’re letting this go easier than i thought.”

“yeah, but—” his tone shifted just a little, light but serious underneath. “you still gotta be careful. getting attached to people in this town? it’s dangerous. you know that.”

you glanced down.

“…i know.”

“besides,” he added, poking your forehead with his finger, “it’s not like you’ve confessed or anything. for all you know, ren’s just confused every time you speak.”

you shoved his arm. “gee, thanks.”

“anytime.”

you went back into the café and not long after the chime above the café door rang again — a normal sound, familiar even. you glanced up from your spot restocking napkins at the counter, just as kotoha’s voice called out her usual cheery, practiced greeting.

“welcome to café pothos! let me know if—”

she paused mid-sentence.

you followed her line of sight, watching as three guys stepped in wearing beaten-up but unmistakable shishitoren jackets — the gritty symbol stitched on the back was faded in places, splattered with something that might’ve been blood or just dirt from the road.

kotoha’s smile didn’t falter, though her eyes sharpened slightly. “ohhh—shishitoren, huh? didn’t expect to see you guys here again so soon.”

you blinked, confused.

kotoha leaned over slightly and whispered near your ear, “quick history lesson: bofurin and shishitoren used to scrap a lot. got bad for a while. but recently, umemiya and their rep squashed it. peace and all that. they even came in last week for coffee.”

you nodded slowly, letting the information settle.

“so they’re not dangerous anymore?” you whispered back.

“depends on the day,” she muttered, then brightened again. “but for now—just treat ’em like any other group of guys with too much gel in their hair.”

you quietly laughed and turned to help her prepare a table — menus, water glasses, the usual.

one of the boys, tall with wide shoulders and messy hair falling into his face, leaned against the booth like he owned it. his buddy, buzz-cut and smirking, spun a spoon on the table while the third leaned a little too close to kotoha’s side of the bar, watching her every move.

you tried not to focus on them. just work. just keep your head down.

you placed the last cup on the table, took a step back—

clack.

something cold and heavy rested flat against your back. you froze instantly, breath catching.

metal.

a bat.

your hands hovered mid-air as the guy behind you leaned in, voice low and mocking right at your ear.

“quiet, sweetheart. don’t wanna ruin the surprise.”

you didn’t dare turn your head. didn’t need to.

kotoha had turned halfway toward you, hands full of mugs. her face shifted in an instant.

“what the hell are you doing?” she snapped.

the guy standing nearest the booth grinned, lifting the front of his jacket slightly. you spotted the tag — hastily cut, barely clinging. the seams were ripped.

“these?” he said, gesturing to their clothes. “yeah, we borrowed ‘em. beat the shit outta some shishitoren dogs last night. figured we’d come say hi.”

your stomach sank.

they weren’t from shishitoren.

they just stole their faces.

“and lookie here,” the buzz-cut one said, slipping a pocket knife from his sleeve with practiced ease and flipping it open.

your heart pounded as he crossed to you, casually slinging an arm across your shoulder like a friend — the knife flashing down by your side, hidden to anyone not standing in your exact spot.

kotoha moved.

fast.

she dropped a tray and made for another one, aiming to hurl it—when the guy with the bat pressed it harder into your back, twisting slightly. you flinched.

“ah, ah,” the knife guy clicked his tongue at kotoha. “try that and your little friend gets a new smile.”

kotoha froze. her hands clenched around the counter’s edge. her expression shifted from alarm to fire in seconds.

“you touch her, and i swear—”

“you’ll what?” he grinned. “ring up a bill for assault?”

the café suddenly felt too quiet. your breath trembled slightly as you shifted your eyes to kotoha, not daring to move your body, silently pleading.

she looked at you — really looked — and something in her expression cracked.

it was happening again. someone had found you. someone had recognized you from something.

“you really should watch your step,” the one behind you muttered. “your face… looks too familiar, y’know?”

your eyes widened, just a little.

they knew.

you didn’t say a word.

kotoha’s nails scraped the counter. she needed to act, but with a knife that close and you right in the middle, the odds were bad. her gaze darted to the door — the street — and then to her phone behind the register.

please, you thought, someone come in.

someone — anyone — from bofurin.

and soon.

💬, HELP i rewrote this three times 😭😭😭 please dont flop !! this was lwk hard to write, but anyway PART TWO IS OUT NOWWW !!!!! PLEASE STAY TUNED!!!

not for you ? cant read part two ? look here for another read 📚 !

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