He was angry. Haitani Rindou was good at hiding his emotions, his expression a blank slate to most who look at him, but not to you, and not to Ran--the two of you knew him well enough to see through the mask.

Ran shot you a look, amused as he raised his eyebrows and nodded toward his younger brother and you glared because this was his fault, and now he was all but giggling as he walked you over to your executioner.

At least one of us is entertained, you thought violently as you drew closer to your boyfriend. His dark gaze trained directly on you, ignoring Ran even as he chuckled and nudged you forward.

“I’ll leave you two be,” Ran murmured and your eyes widened as he leaned in close, darting down to steal a kiss from your cheek, too too close to the corner of your lips. You leaned back immediately but winced when you heard Rindou let out a sound more animalistic than human as his hand shot forward to curl around your bicep painfully tight, yanking you toward him and away from Ran.

Ran only laughed as he raised his hands up in mock defense, “Was just sayin’ bye, Rindou, don’t be so possessive.”

You should have known better.

Ran loved his brother, yes, but he also enjoyed needling him like none other, and Ran was observant, and he realized quickly that the fastest way to get under Rindou's skin was through you. And you knew that Ran would never actually try something with you, again, he loved Rindou too much to ever even think about that--and deep down, you knew Rindou knew that too, but that didn't mean he didn't like to pretend just to see Rindou lose his shit for the fuck of it.

Ran walked away without another word and internally, you let out a slew of curses directed toward the older brother as you looked up at your boyfriend, “Rin-” your voice wavered and Rindou didn’t have to say a word to shut you up, one look in your direction had you swallowing thickly, lips pressed together tight.

And you only stood there as Rindou let out a breath, letting go of your arm to take a few steps away from you and sit down on the couch in the Kanto Manji base and you could see the storm brewing behind his lavender eyes as he stared at you, elbows resting on his knees and chin resting on his thumbs, fingers pressed to his nose, and you knew it was taking all of his self control not to lose his temper on you--the Haitanis always have had extraordinarily bad tempers but they did their best to control it. 

And you didn’t dare say anything, only watching him carefully until he finally leaned back into the couch, his ordinarily neat, pulled back hair falling messy framing his face. 

“Come here,” he said, voice low as he patted his thigh, and you moved forward without a word, slipping onto his lap and watching him carefully, trying to figure out what he wanted from you. You watched with bated breath as he brought his hand up to cup your face, thumb running over your bottom lip, and you relaxed into his touch, missing the dark expression on his face. “You like whoring yourself out to my brother?” 

Your eyes widened and the gentle touch to your face tightened into a painful grip, squishing your cheeks together as he forced you to look him in the eye. Desperately, you shook your head as best as you could, acutely aware of all of the other Kanto Manji higher ups lingering around the room, watching the scene with thinly veiled interest.

“I don’t, Rin, I don’t do that, I-” you were stuttering over your words, cheeks heating up in embarrassment when you heard Ran snort in amusement, exchanging a few quiet words with Madarame Shion and Hanma Shuji.

“No? You don’t?” Rindou’s voice was sharp, and cruel, tears stung your eyes as you heard Hanma snicker. “You don’t strut around our base in your tiny little skirts trying to get stuffed full with whatever fuckin’ cock you can get your hands on?” 

“I do-” you began to protest but Rindou bounced his knee suddenly and your eyes widened, a gasp tearing from your lips when you felt his knee grind up against your clit.

“You’re fuckin’ drenched,” he said, and you squeezed your eyes shut as you heard Ran snicker loudly, “can feel it through my pants. Got like that from walkin’ around with Ran, didn’t you? You let him feel you up? Touch my pussy?”

“N-” you began again but he bounced his leg again and you couldn’t hold back the whine that slipped past your lips, eyes fluttering open when you felt him grind harder against your clit. 

“Look at you,” his tone was low, mocking, “no fuckin’ self control.”

And your breath was shaky and your fingers were trembling as he kept the pressure on your clit, and you wanted to scream and cry because Rindou knew what he was doing and you both knew that he was right--you had zero self-control whenever it came to him.

But you were in public, the more rational part of your brain tried to fight you even as you let out another whimper, trying to subtly grind your hips down on his black pants. In public in front of his brother, all of the other members of his stupid gang. 

“Go on,” Rindou said, bouncing his knee again and your lips parted in a silent moan, “Get yourself off.”

“Rin,” voice barely over a breath as you stared at him, unsure if he was being serious or not. Rindou was a lot of things--but he was especially possessive over you. 

“Now,” he leaned back against the couch, one arm hooking behind it as the other dropped from your face to rest on the cushions next to him. Your eyes darted around, catching the stares of all of the other Kanto Manji higher ups trained on you. Rindou raised his eyebrows, beckoning you to start, your mouth was dry as your reached to rest your hands on his shoulders, “Don’t fuckin’ touch me.”

Your face felt like it was on fire as Hanma Shuji and Madarame Shion burst into laughter somewhere nearby, as your hands dropped back to your sides. “Rin,” you could feel your eyes welling with tears, “You’re bein’ real mean, Rin.”

Rindou’s lips tilted up into a cruel smile, “‘n you’re actin’ like a real whore, princess.”

Your bottom lip wobbled, Rindou only called you princess when he was real mad, n it was never in a cute way, only mocking. 

“Maybe she needs some help getting started,” Ran cooed, “Don’t ya, doll? I can come over there and help you out.”

“Stay the fuck over there,” Rindou snapped, his lavender eyes met yours, still sharp, but more questioning. Rindou was mean, and he had a temper, and a possessive streak for a mile but you knew you could trust him to stop if you were uncomfortable no matter how mad he might be.

And a part of you wanted to stop to tell him no, not in front of the rest of the gang because you knew you would never live it down. You knew that they’d make lecherous comments and leer whenever Rindou wasn’t around but… your eyes fluttered shut again when you shifted on Rindou’s lap, the pressure on your clit increasing.

But you wanted him.

“I wanna touch you,” the words slipped past your lips before you could stop them, ignoring their taunts and, just barely, for a second Rindou’s gaze softened before he nodded and you lifted your hands to his shoulders, fingers curling around his black jacket.

You let out a shaky breath. Rindou tilted his head to the side, attention focused solely on you, go on, he said silently and you tried to block out the hoots and catcalls from Hanma and Shion as your grip tightened on his shoulders as you rocked your hips against his thigh.

You bit down on your bottom lip, trying to muffle the moans but his hand darted back up to your face, squishing your cheeks together again—a silent command, stop fucking hiding yourself.

On cue, a whimper ripped from your lips as your eyes fluttered shut and you picked up the pace of your hips—breath catching at the consistent pressure to your clit, as Rindou subtly bounced his knee in time with your hips.

Your nails dug deep into the cloth of Rindou’s jacket, blurry gaze tunneling onto his face, how lavender eyes were dark and trained on you, how his jaw was clenched tight, how his free hand was squeezing the pillows as you slowly lost yourself on his thigh.

“W-w-want you t’fill me up,” you barely even recognized your own voice as the words spilled from your lips in a whine, and around you, the mocking hoots and whistles from the Kanto Manji executives became muted as your pants loudened, quickened, as your muffled moans steadily grew more audible, first shifting into whimpers then high-pitch whines before you were half doubled over on Rindou’s lap, arms limp around him, face resting on his shoulder as you let out shaky, broken, loud moans against the skin by his ear, rocking your hips against his thigh as best as possible. But it wasn’t enough, you couldn’t get the pressure right, you couldn’t rock your hips fast enough, you could bring yourself right to the brink but never over and tears began stinging at your eyes as you chased an unobtainable release, “C-c-can’t, Rin, Rin, can’t do it on my own, need you in me s’bad please, please-“

You could feel his breath hot against your neck before his hands came down on your hips, gripping you so tight that you were sure it would bruise, bringing you down on his thigh, grinding your cunt against him hard as he bounced his leg up.

Your breath caught as he picked up the pace to an impossible speed, jaw slack and body limp in his hold. His name left your lips in a string of incoherent babbles, the release that you couldn’t manage to reach yourself approaching so quickly that it had your body running hot and fuzzy, your head light, your vision spotty.

“S’good, feels s’good,” you barely even understood what you were saying—lost in the feeling of his hands on your hips, his thigh grinding against your cunt, his breath hot and heavy against your skin.

Distantly, you could hear someone saying something—Hanma? or Shion? you couldn’t tell, and you didn’t care, too focused on your rapidly approaching high, too focused on the soft murmurs Rindou let out against your neck, praise that the others couldn’t hear over your sobs and moans, that you could barely pick up yourself—his good girl, so pretty for him, so good for him, his his his.

He had your head spinning and body tensing, thighs trembling around his as one particularly hard bounce of his knee sent you spiraling over the edge, letting out a loud keen of his name, mind running blank as the heat pooling in your abdomen finally exploded, sending tremors throughout your body, vision flashing white. 

His grip on your hips tightened, continuing the steady roll of your hips over his thigh until you were spasming in his arms, slapping at his chest, tears streaming down your face as you tried to get him to stop, the sensitivity too much to handle.

And he did, but only after a few more bounces of his knee, reveling in your broken sobs and pleas of his name, letting out a low chuckle against your skin as you fell limp into his chest.

He kissed your neck softly as you laid against him, hands running up and down your sides soothingly.

“Two minutes,” he murmured and you blinked up at him blearily confused, faltering when you caught the dark glint in his eyes. You let out a loud whimper as he rocked his hips against yours, grinding his bulge against your soaked through panties, “Two minutes to recover til I’m stuffing you full.”

He’s wearing a t-shirt, and the luminescent purple mullet has been pulled back into a ponytail. His tattoo at the base of his neck is on full display and bobs just a little whenever he swallows. 

‘Why are you taking so long?’ He groans and falls back onto the bed, watching you with his head turned to the side. His gaze is never lecherous, never perverse. It is always full of warmth, love and respect, as if you hung every star in the sky. Always soft, always gentle. There is an assortment of headbands, earrings, hair clips and dainty necklaces on the dresser, and you pick up one of these as you catch his eye in the mirror again.

‘Do you have somewhere to be Haitani? You quip and bend to pull on your flats. 

The sun is high in the sky and the heat of it pours in through the open window, the netting fluttering in the breeze. Every time it does, you see Rindou’s hair lift from his forehead, the fine strands falling to the side where his cheek is pressed to the bedspread. The room is awash with yellow and white and the clouds are stark and fluffy against the blue of the sky. It’s still early summer yet and the air isn’t pervaded by that sweltering late summer stickiness where the air feels close and stifling, begging for summer rain.

‘Yes actually, somewhere that isn’t here.’ He shoots back. His eyes follow you as you pull on a thin pink cardigan. 

‘You say that, as if this wasn’t your idea in the first place!’ 

‘Only because you begged me!’

‘You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, you know,’ you say , raising an eyebrow at him as you bend to flick his forehead, now exposed by the wind wafting in through the window.

‘Shut up, of course I’m going.’ He moves to stand, rolling off the bed. ‘Besides, I am your bodyguard.’

‘That’s a weird way to say best friend.’ 

‘Best friend? I don’t even know you.’

‘You just said you were my bodyguard,’ you say, smirking when you see the faint tint of embarrassment creep up his cheeks. 

‘Yeah whatever, let’s just go,’ he grumbles and snatches his keys off the dresser and you smile knowingly to yourself at the prospect of winning yet another battle. 

Maybe this was too much effort for a simple trip to the park in early May. Or maybe the truth was that Rindou was the sort of person you felt like making an effort for because he did the same for you in ways you couldn’t repay. 

Those awful nights when you were alone, separated by miles and drowning in solitude, when he was only a phone call away and then not. When he would pick up the phone, his gravelly, rough voice would be sluggish with sleep, and you’d hear him curse as he accidentally dropped the receiver onto his own foot. Or those nights when you’d call crying, and your words would be punctuated by hics and sobs and Rindou would be there with whatever he could think to get from the convenience store on his way over. Who’d stay with you all night if you needed him to, curled against you, sharing your warmth, his breath on your neck, rubbing circles onto your skin wordlessly. A best friend that felt closer to you than you thought humanly possible, who felt like he fit against you so well that your shapes were moulded together. 

Whatever souls are made of, yours and his are the same. 

The field just beyond the play area of the park is so much quieter that it's almost deserted, exactly how you expected it to be. The grass and thin wiry reeds are so tall they brush your legs. Rindou helps you off the back of his bike, holding out his hand as you swing a leg over, pulling down the hem of your sundress to cover your exposed legs, hiding the flush of your cheeks behind the gently fluttering strands of your hair. You’d held on tight to him, your cheek pressed against his back, feeling the muscles slide and tense when you squeezed a little too tight, your hands against the smooth planes of his abdomen, his hair tickling your nose. 

‘This it?’ He asks and holds up a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. 

You nod your assent. 

The late afternoon rays bathe the field in golden light, the sun a slash of orange and pink on the horizon. The breeze has picked up by now and the reeds brush the skin on your calves. 

‘Okay, quick climb on then,’ he says and bends at the waist, gesturing for you to climb onto his back. 

‘Um…what?’ You blush instinctively and hope that the pinkish tint on your cheeks can be mistaken for the heat sitting on your skin. 

‘Isn’t that what you wanted? This is a one time offer, Princess.’ He smiles over his shoulder, and the light coming through the strands of his hair make them seem almost lilac. 

For a second you’re unsure. Yes he’s your best friend, yes he’s the apple of your eye, yes you’re convinced he put the stars in the sky. So why does this feel so strange? Why does your heart speed up at the thought of being so close you can feel the warmth of his skin? Why is he the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, and why does it make you feel sick with longing?

You tentatively put your arms around his neck from behind, resting your chin on the curve of his shoulder as he holds your legs in place around his hips. The skin of his fingertips is rough against your bare legs and you suppress a shiver as you tense around him. 

‘Relax y/n, s’not as if I’m going to drop you.’ He turns his head to the side, his hair tickling your ear and his lips are so close, so tantalisingly close that all you’d have to do is lean forward to brush them against your own. They’re soft you imagine and your countless daydreams about kissing him give you enough fuel to think what it would be like to just bridge the distance.

He glances at your lips, the bottom one pulled by your teeth, slightly red and puckered. His throat bobs up, down, and the tattoo at the base of his neck moves with the action. You can’t hear it, but his heartbeat is so fast, the blood is rushing to his head and all he needs to do is close the distance…

And then the moment passes, and he looks away, squinting at the sun and its bright light on the horizon, hoping that his hair hides the way his high cheekbones fade to pink. 

‘Ready?’ He asks and hoists you higher on his hips so your body is flush against his back, your chest pressed against him. 

‘Y-yeah,’ you reply, shakily. You can smell his aftershave, his shower gel, even the shampoo he uses in his hair and you want to touch him so much that it makes you dizzy. You want to run your hands through his hair, put them on his bare chest, kiss the eyelashes that fall onto his cheek, kiss the corner of his mouth and work your way down and it’s so embarrassing, you think, to have these feelings for the man whose bond with you runs deeper than any romance, who would fight death for you.

He doesn’t give you any warning before he bolts down the hill, clutching onto your legs and laughing, his head thrown back as you grasp onto the front of his shirt, giggling into the crook of his neck, your legs tense around his hips.

 He trips at some point, and the two of you roll down the hill, holding onto each other as the world slips and tumbles around you, laughing against each other's skin, your hair flying in the wind, grass on your clothes and your face pressed to his chest.

When you slow to a stop, he can tell you’re smiling against his shirt. There is a few seconds of silence after the laughter dies down, and he hopes that you can’t sense or feel the way his heart is beating erratically in his chest.

Rays of light burst through the clouds over his shoulder and yet you feel no need to get up, and if you could stay here, nestled in his warmth, his arm around you and his breath fanning your hair, you would. 

There is no surer thing in the universe than him. 

‘Come on Princess, up you get,’ he says, holding a hand out as he makes to rise. There’s grass clinging to his clothes, and he brushes it off absent-mindedly as you walk hand in hand back to the bike. He brushes your knuckles every so often and your stomach thrums every time he achingly traces his thumb over each individual knuckle. 

The bike dips when you both sit. You, with your arms around his middle, squeezing tight, your cheek pressed to the muscle of his back, and him, leaning forward and chuckling as he revs the bike. You can feel every shift of muscle, even the tense of his thighs, the slip and slide of his shoulders under his shirt, the deep rumble of his laugh when he goes just a little too fast and you hide your face in him. 

By the time you’re home, the need for sleep has crept up on you. Rindou can tell by the way your head nods and you seem to sink into the thin cardigan that does nothing to protect you from the evening chill. You clutch onto his arm, your brow furrowed and your speech slurred and the effort it takes for you to drag one leg in front of the other is immense. 

He takes the initiative, and lifts you, hoisting you up into his arms, your legs resting on his forearm and nudges the door closed as you step inside. From there, he slips off his shoes and takes you to the bedroom, slipping into the bed next to you, as he is prone to doing, pulling the covers up till they’re just resting on the curve of your bare shoulder.

You inch closer, till your arms are flat on his chest, your cheek now firmly nestled in the hollow crevice in the middle. You can hear his heartbeat, can feel the warmth of his skin and his breath on the crown of your head, even more so when he pulls you closer with one hand on the small of your back. 

‘Rin?’ You look up at him through your lashes, your eyes now droopy and sluggish with sleep. You’re so close to him, so close that you can see the minor scratches and cuts from places the razor has slipped in the morning, the small crease of his brows that’s partially hidden by the fringe of his mullet.

‘Yeah?’ His tattoo bobs up and down as he swallows, his tongue thick and heavy in his mouth.

‘I had a good time,’ you say and perhaps it’s the sleep pressing firmly down on you, the blanket of warmth that comes from behind at home, in the arms of your best friend in the whole world, but you want to kiss him, and you suck in a breath as you glance at his lips, soft and supple and pliant, the lightest pink. 

His jaw clenches and something inside him stirs, and it really isn’t his fault, he thinks. You’re so pretty, so kind and sweet, and fun and loving and you make him feel like he is the only man in the world, the only man worth looking at, and it would be so easy to just bridge that distance and close that gap. 

You feel something against the inner part of your thigh, and without looking down, you know what it is. 

‘Don’t…’ he says in a breathy whisper. ‘I want to… but we shouldn’t.’ And the rejection (or what feels like rejection) comes to you so quick that it’s like a metal wall slamming down on you. You hardly have time to register the way his lips tremble before Shame pools in your gut. You swallow the lump forming in your throat, hoping your hair hides the red on your cheeks, hides the tears gathering in your eyes. 

He wants to, he really does. But is losing a lifetime of friendship worth it when he knows he can’t be the man you deserve, the one who comes home every day without cuts and bruises? The man who comes home every day full stop. 

You slide off him, your lips pinched, the tears on your lash line, the hem of your now crumpled sundress gathered in your shaking hands. 

‘Y/n…’ he says, his voice now laced with panic, his hair now spiky from the one end where he had creased it against the pillow. ‘Y/n wait, please just listen-’

The first sob rips its way out of your throat as you race from the room and Rindou panics, knocking over your lamp on the bedside table as he rushes after you to no avail. By the time he’s righted it, you’ve left the house, wiping your tears with your wrist, your choked sobs so loud, so painful that it makes you dizzy. 

You don’t look back, don’t spare a glance over your shoulder even as you hear your name called from the door in a frenzied shout.

Rindou leaves for his shared apartment with Ran just as night falls, after having spent the better part of the evening looking for you, calling your name in the street, dialing your phone, even as the streetlights flickered to life, and he saw his shadow splayed out underneath him in the artificial orange glow. 

It’s only when you’re sure he’s gone, when Ran has all but confirmed that Rindou had come back, slamming doors and hissing at him, that you venture back home. The tears are dried on your face and there’s a tightness in your skin that can only have come from crying so long and hard, and every movement feels like a small crack in marble. 

You shift in the bed that smells so horribly like him and scroll through the pictures in your gallery, ignoring the barrage of messages, the explosion of missed calls and panicked voicemails. There is you and him on your birthday. There was you and him on Christmas when he had tripped in the snow and you had laughed and snapped a picture and sent it to Ran so the two of you could share the love and the laughter of the person who meant more to both of you than anything ever could. You smile even now, and the action brings a fresh new wave of pain, now dull and throbbing. 

But sleep comes to you still, and though it is fretful and lonely and plagued by dreams, by the time you wake, the jagged edges of pain have softened into smooth tendrils of heartbreak. The ache in your chest persists however, and it takes a significant amount of makeup to cover the shadows under your eyes as you leave to get the groceries you desperately need.

 Despite it all, your fingers hover over his contact many times throughout the morning. It would be easy to call. You’ve no doubt he’d pick up. Just to hear his voice, hear him mumble on the other end of the line and your sniffles would feed down the receiver and his heart would clench with both guilt and anxiety till he was pouring his apologies out to you. Would it make you feel better? Maybe not,but you’d get to hear the rough rasp of his morning voice, and you’d just know he was there, as he always is.

What exactly were you angry at? That he didn’t feel the same? Or that he did and that it wasn’t enough? That you weren’t allowed to have what other people took for granted all the time? That the one person whose love you craved like water in the desert, was the one thing you couldn’t have?

You sniffle again, and pick up a bunch of bananas when you feel a tap on your shoulder.

You spin, and the bananas fall from your hand into the basket with a thud when you see Rindou’s towering figure standing in front of you. 

There are dark rings under his eyes and his hair stands in tufts, slightly to the side from where it pressed against the pillow as he slept fitfully, his head swimming with thoughts of you.

Perhaps, it's spite, perhaps it’s because you’re angry and upset and your heart is hanging on by a thread, but you turn away from him and continue inspecting the bananas, even as your lip wobbles and you have to bite on it to keep yourself in check. The supermarket is quiet at this time, and the only sound is the whir of the refrigerators and the clicking as items are scanned at the till point.

‘Y/n will you talk to me?’ he says and the desperation leaks out of his voice as it trembles. He moves to take your basket instinctively but you turn, hanging your head so that he can’t see the fresh wave of hot tears forming.

‘What's there to say Rindou?’ You drop the bananas into your basket and move along down the aisle, your hand skimming over products you have no interest in, just for something to focus on that isn’t him. You clear your throat, hoping your voice doesn’t betray you when you’re not quite sure how to feel and this strange sensation of both yearning and anger is foreign in you, so much so that it takes every ounce of willpower not to let another choked sob escape your throat when all you want is to weep.

‘I’m sorry Princess.’ And there is no playful lilt, no smile, no teasing or cockiness in it. It’s hoarse and worried and hushed and from the scratchy roughness of it, you can tell he’s smoked a few cigarettes before he got here. 

Though they did nothing to ease his nerves and he still clenches his fists, his hands tight with pressure and tension, as if there are sparks just below the surface. 

‘I’m sorry, I was stupid. So stupid.’ He furrows his brows and his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth, slack and unyielding. And even though you’re hurt, and the pain is still spiky and fresh and worming its way through your stomach, you know in your heart that you’ve already forgiven him, that you’d done so almost immediately and that you’d do it regardless of the outcome of this conversation. But still, you want him to feel it, just a fraction of the pain. 

‘Very stupid-’ you say, just to drive it home.

 It's a testament to your love for him that even though you’re angry, even though the pain is still a throbbing thing uncomfortably nestled in your chest, you can’t bring yourself to snap at him. Because you are irrevocably and hopelessly in love and you know life is too short not to make it known, not to love him the way he deserves.

‘Yes I’m very stupid thanks Y/n-’ he retorts without thinking, berating himself. But his heart lifts just a slight when he sees you snort and hold your sleeve to your nose to hide both the tears and the giggles. You can’t help it. You laugh, and your skin cracks with the action, a remnant or parting gift from the tears dried on there, and it feels so wonderful that he is so him, that he is just so unapologetically him. 

‘That’s an understatement-’ 

You can’t help but snort again at the way he cocks his head to the side, tutting at your interruption when he’s very obviously on a roll.

‘I’m an idiot, and I don’t deserve you at all, and I was scared and I don’t want to disappoint you-’ he rambles and fiddles with a cigarette lighter he’s fished out of his pocket. Why is it so hard for him to look at you now? 

‘Rindou-’ And it’s your turn to furrow your brows.

‘-but I love you,’ he says in an almost imperceptible whisper that you swear no one could hear over the drone of the electricity, the buzz of fridges and scuff of feet on linoleum, but you. You’d know his voice anywhere. You’d pick it out from billions.  You know him like the lines on your hand and perhaps that is what it means to have a soulmate. To know them better than you thought possible to know a human.

‘Does this mean…?’

‘Yes. Yes it does.’ He nods fervently, eager to right what he’s done wrong. ‘I love you, and I want to try.’

The pain withers, the edges of it curling back like leaves in autumn and you feel yourself softening in a way that brings fresh tears to your eyes. It’s not as if you haven’t heard it before from him. You have. Just not in this way. You try to fight the watery smile and even though your lips tremble, you think you might be okay, he might be okay, and yesterday suddenly seems so trivial compared to this.

‘Princess?’ His eyes are wide with worry.

You take a shaky breath and the tension seeps out of your skin. It’s nothing, you realize. It’s all nothing compared to the vast expanse of love between you, compared to the years that are so full and bursting with memories. Would you really both be okay with losing that just because you were scared of taking a leap of faith? 

‘I love you too Rindou,’ you say and it feels like the easiest thing in the universe, so effortlessly rolling off your tongue, so easily said that everything else, every risk and possible fear seems so inconsequential. 

He blushes and looks at the linoleum floor and then at you, sighing, his shoulders suddenly sagging as the tension and stiffness seeps out of his bones.

‘Here.’ You thrust the shopping basket at him to hold and he puts a hand to his chest in fake outrage. ‘Hold this, since you’re my boyfriend now and all.’ You flash him a cheeky smile and Rindou’s heart does a dangerous thing as he takes it from you. There is no echo of worry this time, no wavering smile that threatens tears. Only love and endless admiration, persisting between you, as it always does.

a/n:... so. This is based off a dream I had that happened exactly like this. I love Rindou so much can you tell? my specialist most pretty star in the sky. I hope you all enjoy this anyways, I'm trying to be more consistent and give more thought to maybe opening a patreon or ko-fi. As always, likes and reblogs much appreciated! for u my sweet rin.

SIXTEEN YEARS EARLIER. 

“Is this the best idea?” 

Rindou’s fists were tight at his side, nails digging into his palms as he stood next to his brother, warily eyeing the group of older boys that stood at the mouth of the alley, blocking any possible escape route for the two of them.

Even as the words left his lips, Rindou knew the answer. It might not be the best idea but it was the only one. Kuroiwa and Shimada kept moving closer and closer into their territory, closer to you and your school and the penthouse and Rindou had a sick feeling about it. And he knew that to some extent, his worry was unwarranted--Miss Yua and Mister Ayato were driving you to and from school, to your skating lessons and back. You never went out alone--Rindou was always with you and Ran was hovering around in the distance watching over both of you but…

It only takes one slip up. 

The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Doesn’t matter,” Ran said and Rindou glanced up at his brother--he was sure that he had never seen him so serious before. Ran’s lips were pressed together tight and his eyes were sharp as he watched the group gathering at the entrance to the alley, more showing up as each second passed. 

Ran stepped forward. Rindou stiffened.

“Too afraid to face us on your own that you had to bring your entire gang, Kuroiwa?” Ran looked deceptively at ease as he mocked the president of Max Maniacs but Rindou knew better--he could see the way that Ran’s shoulders were tenser than usual and he could see the way his lip twitched in irritation.

“Relax,” Kuroiwa stepped forward, Shimada at his heels, a cigarette hanging between his lips, and Rindou grit his teeth at the lazy drawl. Fucking sleaze, Rindou thought to himself, “They’re only here to watch. You know how it goes, we need witnesses.”

“Witnesses are supposed to be neutral,” Rindou spit out and Kuroiwa turned his beady gaze onto him. He didn’t like it, it made his skin crawl. 

“There are no neutral parties in Roppongi,” Kuroiwa said, “Only us and you.”

Rindou exhaled through his nose, teeth grinding together, knowing that Kuroiwa was right. All of the minor gangs that had been littered throughout Roppongi and the rest of Minato had been absorbed into Max Maniacs. And while going to a gang from another ward was possible, the only other real option was the Black Dragons based in Shibuya and Rindou wasn’t even sure if they could be considered an option considering how unstable they had become over the past year. Rindou was pretty sure they had gone through a matter of three leaders in the course of nine months.

“Guess it’ll just be us by the end of the day, though,” Shimada was the one to speak up and Rindou’s gaze darted up, nose wrinkling as the older boy spit out a wad of saliva to the ground. “One way or another,” he added.

“One last chance to settle this peacefully,” Kuroiwa told the two of them and Rindou grimaced.

There would be no settling this peacefully. Rindou knew this, hands tight at his side, Ran knew this from the way his gaze darkened, Kuroiwa knew it from the amused smile twitching on his lips and Shimada knew it from the snort that ripped from his mouth. Even if they did what Kuroiwa and Shimada wanted, joined them… Rindou grimaced. There was already too much bad blood, he and Ran had fought with just about every member they had come across around Roppongi. It would not end well for them. 

“No?” Shimada’s voice grated against Rindou’s ears, hatred stirred in his gut. Ran would end up fighting the president, he would end up fighting Shimada. Unease hit him almost immediately. Shimada is bigger than him. A lot fucking bigger than him. And Rindou had training, yeah, but… He swallowed thickly. 

He’d have to fight smarter, be faster. One hit from Shimada could fuck him up bad. He couldn’t let the two of them gang up on Ran. 

Fight smarter, he reminded himself. Pretend you’re at the dojo. 

But he’s not at the dojo, this isn’t a supervised spar. They could fucking kill him, kill Ran. They could go after you once taking the two of them out. 

His heartbeat was racing and Rindou could feel the panic beginning to take hold. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, Breathe out.

Losing wasn’t an option. Fight smarter. 

He shared a look with Ran. Calm down, Ran told him silently, we’ll be fine. 

And for a second, Rindou was jealous, and it was for such a petty reason that Rindou didn’t even want to admit it to himself. But he just could never understand where Ran got all of his confidence from. He supposed that was a lie. Of course, Ran was confident, he was good at everything he set his mind to; a natural where Rindou had to put in hours of training just to even have a chance of keeping up. 

And Rindou hated it, he hated how when you were around watching them spar, your eyes would always follow Ran instead of him; he hated how Ran would always stay behind without him having to ask, knowing that Rindou was going to spend extra hours training; he hated how no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seen to catch up to Ran. 

Now’s not the time, he told himself, focus.

“Guess it’s a no then,” Kuroiwa said after a moment when neither of them responded to Shimada. He looked over at Shimada. “Let’s finish this then.”

Rindou stiffened, Ran’s lips pulled up in a thin, unfriendly smile, “Yeah,” he agreed, “let’s.”

Shimada was on him in a second and Rindou’s eyes shot open, barely dodging a fist aimed for his face. Focus, he told himself, lips twisted down. His eyes darted to the side, catching sight of Kuroiwa engaging Ran in combat.

Fuck, Rindou was more than capable of fighting on his own. He knew that. He did. He was confident in his fighting abilities even if he acknowledged Ran was better. But… it didn’t matter, he reminded himself, more insistently, focus. You won’t win if you don’t focus. Don’t let them gang up on Ran. 

Rindou grunted, taking a blow to the side as he took the opportunity to grab his arm, twisting it hard enough for Shimada to let out a sharp shout of pain before Rindou drove his fist deep into the man’s gut--once, twice, three times, and he was going for a fourth when he found himself flung back hard against the building on the alley.

His head hit the concrete with a painful smack and a loud crunch resounded from his left arm. His vision spun and the breath was ripped from his lungs as he desperately tried to stand back up before Shimada was on him.

“Y’know, we’ve been lookin’ for you fuckin’ douchebags,” Shimada spit out and Rindou wiped the blood from his mouth as he rose back to his feet, begging his vision to stop spotting. “You haven’t been in the alleys you usually hang around, f’months now.”

That’s right. Eight months, to be exact. It had been eight months since they had moved into the penthouse and Rindou still couldn’t get used to having a stable place to live with a roof over their heads, food in their stomachs every morning and every night, to having air conditioning when it was too hot and heat when it was too cold. Even when they had been stuck in that orphanage, they had to fight for food and froze at night during the winter with their flimsy sheets and broken windows. Rindou wasn’t sure there was ever a time before the past eight months that he and Ran were genuinely living and not just surviving.

Focus, he reminded himself again. Focus or you’ll lose it all. 

His heartbeat hammered in his chest. His throat closed up at the thought. He couldn’t. He couldn’t let them lose it--he’d never seen Ran so at ease before these last eight months, so content. He was always stressing about food and clean water and shelter and gangs. He had rarely smiled except for when fighting and even then they weren’t genuine smiles. He couldn’t let them lose it. 

“So we did some lookin’ into it, yeah?” Shimada’s words drew Rindou back to attention, and an uncomfortable feeling began to rise. “We’ve had our eyes on her for a hot minute, y’know? That pretty thing that always hangs around the two of you,” he said, “The Izanagi heiress.” 

Rindou’s heart dropped. “Well take them off her,” he spit out, and he hated the way that his voice slurred.

“Nah, don’t think we will,” Shimada said and the grin on his face was nothing short of lecherous and it made Rindou’s skin crawl. “After we put the two of you down, we might just take her for ourselves.” Rindou’s ears rang, the words echoing in his head, his blood ran hot with fury but Shimada just continued, “You get a piece of her yet? A bit young for my taste but bet she-”

A sickening crack cut him off mid-sentence and Rindou turned his attention toward where Ran was standing over Kuroiwa, face blank and blood staining his face. His eyes widened when he saw Kuroiwa laying limp on the ground, blood pooling around his head. 

Ran turned toward Shimada, “What the fuck did you just say?”

Shimada laughed but Rindou’s body felt cold because he wasn’t sure if he had ever seen Ran like this before, he went to step forward. “Fuck you-” Shimada began but Rindou could only watch as Ran was on him in a second, fist driving so hard into his face that it sent Shimada sprawling to the ground.

“Rindou, hold him down,” Rindou barely even recognized Ran’s voice, staring at him in disbelief. It sounded cold, empty, “Rindou, now.”

Rindou’s body moved on automatic, locking his arms and legs up so that Shimada couldn’t move, grimacing as pain shot through his left arm. He let out a grunt as Shimada desperately tried to kick him off. The laugh that pulled from his lips surprised even him--it was nothing short of cruel as Shimada let out a cry of pain, the joint-locking technique that their Sensei had taught him at the dojo taking effect as the older boy struggled against his hold. 

Ran was on him in a second and the laugh that had been on Rindou’s lips fell instantly catching the lethal expression that had crossed over his brother’s face as he drove his fist into Shimada’s face over and over and over again--blood splattering on his clothes, his face, spilling on the ground below them.

“Ran,” Rindou’s voice was weaker than he intended as he tried and failed, for the first time, to get Ran’s attention. “Ran!”

Ran ignored him and Rindou cringed when a loud crack echoed in his ears as Ran’s fist drove into Shimada’s face again. 

He knew. Rindou knew his brother better than anyone else in the world and he knew that no matter how much Ran tried to avoid you, no matter how hard he tried to push it away, no matter how often he brushed you off whenever you tried to talk to him, Ran cared about you. Rindou could see it in every stolen glance whenever you weren’t paying attention, every time he went out of his way to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself when he could have just let you fall, every time he’d rush finishing whatever they were doing to make sure they could get to your school before classes let out so they could make sure you got home safely. Ran cared about you, and if Rindou knew one thing about Ran, it was that he cared deeply--so deeply that Rindou was sure that it scared him and that was why he was so insistent on holding you at arm’s length.

“Ran, you’re gonna kill him,” Rindou said but he knew that his words weren’t getting to his brother and his hands trembled around Shimada’s limbs as they went limp in his hold, “Ran, we’ve gotta go, we won, we-”

“Oi! Hands in the air, back away from him!” 

No way. Rindou’s heart felt like it was lodged in his throat. He looked up, backing away from Shimada immediately as his eyes fell upon the cops lining the mouth of the alley, guns raised and pointed at him and Ran. He grabbed Ran by the back of the shirt, yanking him off Shimada and Rindou watched as clarity slowly began washing over his face, as his eyes darted between the cops and the dead end alley behind them.

Nowhere to run.

The cops were on the two of them in an instant, yanking Rindou away from Ran and making him let out a hiss of pain at the grip on his left arm. “Hey,” Ran shouted, “The fuck are you doing? Let him go!” 

The cops ignored him and Rindou grimaced as he cuffed his arms behind his back, “Hey,” Ran’s voice was louder, edged on desperate, and Rindou hated it. Ran never sounded desperate, “Let him the fuck go! He didn’t do anything!”

Rindou nearly stumbled to the ground as the cops jostled him forward toward the car, Ran shouting up a storm as they dragged him along. 

“Rin! Ran!” Rindou’s breath caught as he heard your familiar voice calling for them, gaze darting to the side to see you running down the street toward them, eyes wide, panting and still in your school uniform, “Hey! What are you doing with them? Let them go!” 

You pushed past two cops that tried to stop you from reaching them, failing to push through the third as he grabbed you by the arm, dragging you back, “Let me go! Hey, let me go right now!” 

“That’s the Izanagi heiress,” one of the cops holding Ran muttered as they pushed the two of them into the car, “The hell is she doing out here?”

“Ran, Rin! I’ll figure something out, I promise, I-” 

Your voice was cut off as the doors slammed shut behind them and Rindou wanted to cry because he was pretty sure they had just lost exactly what he had feared. 

--

Your feet padded against the white tiles as you took off down the halls of Izanagi HQ, sweating through your school uniform having sprinted halfway across Roppongi to get there. You ignored the secretary yelling behind you, telling you to stop because your uncle was in a meeting. 

You didn’t care. He’s avoided you since your parent’s funeral and you needed him now, so he would deal with you whether he liked it or not. 

You pushed open the doors to his office, catching sight of him talking with an unfamiliar man. You kept your chin high, trying to hide your shakiness as both of the men turned toward you, “I need your assistance immediately!” you said. Your voice shook, your lip trembled, it was not going well.

Your uncle raised his eyebrows, “Y/n,” he murmured, “You should not be here.”

“I need your assistance,” you repeated, and it wasn’t what you had been trying to say. You wanted to tell him that two of your friends, your only friends, were just taken by the cops, that you didn’t know how to help them, but all you could do was repeat yourself in fear that you would break down if you voiced aloud what had happened.

The blood, the limp body, had they killed him? What had happened?

Your uncle stared at you for a moment but it wasn’t him that spoke next, “You must be y/n, I was wondering when we would meet,” your attention turned to the casually dressed tattooed man lounging next to your uncle, he gave you an easy smile that nearly settled your nerves until the sight of the Haitanis covered in blood came back to mind, “My name is Sugawara Iwao, I’m your uncle’s friend. What do you need help with, little one?” 

Your throat was tight, your nails dug deep into your palms, “M-M-M-” you couldn’t get the word out, “My friends! They’re in trouble! They were taken by the cops, I think-” Ran’s bloody fists, Rindou’s ghastly expression, “I think something bad happened! I don’t know what to do.”

“By your friends, you mean the two boys that have moved into the penthouse?” your uncle questioned and you hesitated under his stare, unable to meet his gaze. You were uncomfortable, and you shouldn’t be uncomfortable because he’s your uncle, but you’ve only seen him once in your whole life and it was at your parents’ and sister’s funeral and it brought back bad memories.

You swallowed thickly, nodding. Your uncle’s lips tightened as he looked down at his phone before rising to his feet, sharing a look with Sugawara Iwao as he left the room, phone pressed to his ear, leaving you with the older man. 

You eyed him from the corner of your gaze, and the expression he directed at you had you shifting in discomfort--sadness? 

“Don’t blame Ichirou for his aloofness,” he murmured, “You look a lot like your mother,” his lips lifted into a wry smile, “Act like her too, from what I can tell.”

Your throat went dry at the verbal reminder of your mother, nails digging even deeper into your skin. You looked away sharply. Sugawara Iwao let out a sigh, “You’ll understand one day.”

And a part of you had wished that you had listened to your uncle’s secretary and waited for this stupid meeting to end because you couldn’t stand the pitiful look Sugawara Iwao was sending your way. 

It took your uncle far too long to come back and when he did, his expression was grim, “Your boys are in quite the situation,” he murmured and your blood went cold. He shared a look with Sugawara Iwao over your head before kneeling down in front of you so that the two of you were face to face. You nearly stepped back away from him but managed to stop yourself. “We should be able to help them.”

Relief hit you like a tidal wave--relief that disappeared very quickly as the ‘but’ came. 

“But I’m going to need you to do something if we want this to work.”

--

“Thank you, your Honor. I call to the stand l/n y/n.”

Rindou blinked, the helplessness that had been clouding his mind since the beginning of the one-sided trial fading for just a second. He wasn’t sure if he heard the name correctly but from the shocked whispers echoing around the courtroom at your surname, he figured he had heard correctly. He turned to look at Ran, who looked just as confused, before they both swiveled around to try to pinpoint where exactly you were.

Why were you even here? Much less being called to the stand?

It’s not like you could say much, not having been there when it happened. And Rindou was pretty sure there wasn’t much you’d be able to do even if you had been there. The prosecution had brought up half of the members of Max Maniacs as witnesses testifying against them, claiming that they had murdered Shimada in cold blood, beating him until he stopped moving, stopped breathing. 

Claiming, Rindou felt sick, wasn’t claiming because it was the truth. He glanced at Ran who was once again staring ahead blankly. He’d barely spoken since the whole thing had gone down but Rindou caught the guilty looks that Ran kept sparing toward him whenever he thought Rindou wasn’t paying attention.

35 years. They were facing a fucking life sentence.

“Will the witness please stand to be sworn in by the bailiff?”

He finally caught sight of you as you rose to your feet, sitting between two well-dressed men--one that he recognized from the pictures around your penthouse as your uncle, and the other who was unfamiliar, tattoos peeking out from underneath his dress shirt.

“Please raise your right hand,” Rindou watched as you swallowed thickly, raising your right hand, “Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”

“I do,” you said and the bailiff nodded at you to come sit at the stand. Rindou watched, confused, as you slipped out of the bench and walked up toward the stand, smoothing out your clothes before taking a seat. 

And Rindou could see the anxiety in your eyes as your gaze drifted over them, not lingering too long before their lawyer asked you to state your name for the court.

“My name is l/n y/n,” you said, and your voice shook, and Rindou fisted his pants tight.

“Miss l/n, you were there at the confrontation between Haitani Ran, Haitani Rindou, Shimada Asahi and Kuroiwa Haruto?” 

“I was,” you said and it took all of Rindou’s willpower not to let his eyes widen because what the fuck were you doing? 

“Miss l/n, can you recount the events as you properly recall?” 

And he watched you hesitate. He watched the way your eyes flickered back toward your uncle and the other man, and he watched as you ripped your gaze from them to look at Rindou and Ran before looking back at the defense lawyer.

“I left school early,” your voice was shaking and Rindou was sure your hands were trembling on your lap as well, “I wanted to get home because I forgot my ice skates. I had lessons right after school and needed to get them.”

You were lying, Rindou’s mouth was dry. You never had ice skating lessons on Thursdays. What the fuck were you doing?

“I was halfway home when they cornered me--Shimada and Kuroiwa, I mean. And-” your voice wavered, Rindou watched your bottom lip wobble. You were going to cry, and Rindou wanted to scream and shake you for trying to get up there and lie for them under oath. You were shit at lying and you were going to get in trouble and- “They were saying awful things, and-and I couldn’t run because they had me cornered and then more of them kept showing up. I-”

“She’s lying!” One of the members of Kuroiwa’s gang was on their feet in a second but one of the cops in the room was on him in a second, forcing him back in his seat.

“I was scared,” you ignored the interruption, “I-I didn’t know what to do and then they showed up,” you nodded at Rindou and Ran, “They fought them to help me but Shimada just wouldn’t stop. He kept making vile threats toward me and them, he kept getting back up.”

And Rindou could only stare, your words barely registering in his head as the lies spilled from your lips like second nature. And a part of him wondered if this was really you, because you were an awful liar--you couldn’t even hide surprises or gifts from them, they always had to pretend to be surprised whenever you finally showed them, but right now, if Rindou hadn't been there himself…

Even as the prosecution rose to begin the cross-examination, the tears spilled over your cheeks but your story didn’t waver. Half of the juries wore aghast expressions, the people attending the trial were whispering amongst themselves, and for a second, Rindou couldn’t understand it. They had been against them--him and Ran, that is, before you had taken the stand. They hadn’t taken anything they said into consideration, believing the word of the prosecution and their witnesses over him. 

So why…

He caught sight of the gleam of expensive jewelry decorating your wrist and neck, the tears streaming down your pretty face, the way your body trembled and your eyes kept darting back toward your uncle. 

Ah. 

He realized very quickly why the tides had shifted in their favor so quickly. It had been the word of two against many at first, but now it was the word of you, a girl with an influential and affluent family name, versus the word of a bunch of delinquents. 

They didn’t stand a chance.

And Rindou couldn’t help the giddy feeling that swept through him as the prosecution concluded the cross-examination, realizing they might not actually be facing as severe of a sentence as originally believed but at the same time, a heavy feeling settled in his chest when he noticed the expression on your face as you stepped off the stand after being dismissed by the judge.

The giddiness disappeared completely when he realized what exactly you had done for them. His throat felt tight.

He watched as you made your way back to where you were sitting with your uncle and the unfamiliar man; as your uncle squeezed your shoulder and leaned down to murmur something in your ear; as you looked up at him, eyes wide and an unreadable expression on your face; as the unfamiliar man patted the top of your head as the judge ordered the bailiff to take the jury to the jury room to consider their verdict. 

And as your uncle looked away and the guilty expression on your face shifted into a more validated one, Rindou had a sick feeling that something had just fundamentally changed.

--- 

“How outdated,” you said distastefully, nose wrinkled as you eyed the surveillance cameras that yours would be replacing, “No wonder crime has skyrocketed so high. How do you expect to catch criminals with… this?” 

“How pretentious,” a familiar voice drawled in response and you nearly rolled your eyes as you looked over your shoulder to face the droopy expression of Yamamoto Takuya, the head of Izanami’s research and development branch. You shot him an irritated look, his lips lifted into a lazy smile in return, “The technology isn’t half-bad, you’re just used to ours.”

Your brows furrowed as you eyed the camera again, shooting a suspicious look back toward your old friend, “You’re late,” you said as he came up behind you, looking over your shoulder to inspect the surveillance camera.

“My flight was delayed, and you asked me to stop and talk to Yamagishi,” he said, he picked one of the cameras up, lips twisting down as he examined it, “maybe they are pretty bad.”

You snorted, actually rolling your eyes this time as you turned to face Takuya, taking in the bags underneath his eyes, “No sleep?” 

“We had a breakthrough in segmenting on the new surveillance cameras--we’d been having trouble successfully separating speech signals from, y’know, regular ambient noise. It wasn’t too extreme but it was enough that it was reducing the effectiveness. Pretty sure we were able to pinpoint the issue though. Been spending the past few days trying to figure out how to fix it without having to redesign the whole program. Will probably go for another two before I crash.”

And you knew better than to try to scold him, or ask him to try to sleep. You had known Yamamoto Takuya since high school and he had always been an overachiever--driving himself into the ground to keep up with you academically, he had chilled once the two of you went to university, you had gotten into the same one abroad and had become friends while studying together there, being the only people each other knew, and when you had built Izanami, he was right at your side working with you on research. 

He had chilled, yes, but you knew he still had the capability of going nights without sleep when he found something that interested him and you knew this issue had been bugging him since the initial development of the new software and the problem arose. 

“Don’t even start,” Takuya said and you rolled your eyes.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” you said, glancing around the open area before turning around to fully face him. Considering your words as you leaned back against the table that the old surveillance technology was resting on, you finally asked, “What did you find out about Bonten?” your voice was quiet, little over a murmur. You were certain you were in a secure location, and that there was no one around to overhear but you couldn’t help but hesitate.

Takuya eyed you curiously before shrugging half-heartedly, “Not much. They’re good at hiding--was able to learn a bit about Kokonoi Hajime, though. Real rich, until you came back to Tokyo was pretty sure he was the richest person here. Surpassed your uncle a couple months back. Has some major footholds in the tech and pharma industries. Was going after Fujitsu Limited to try to secure his place in the tech industry over your uncle.”

Surpassed your uncle, you raised your eyebrows, letting out a low whistle. Impressive for someone that started with nothing.

You let out a huff, “I’m gonna be spending a shit ton at this event, aren’t I?” you muttered, tilting your head up to look at the glass ceiling.

“Oh yeah, a fuck ton,” Takuya agreed, “Doubt it’ll even be because of Kokonoi Hajime though. This auction is apparently a real big shot in the underworld of the east, was hosted in Vladivostok last year--gonna have shady organizations from all over tryna get their hands on the weapons.”

You let out a huff, letting your head drop down, face tilted toward the floor, “‘m gunna have to liquidate all my assets in the Philippines.”

Takuya snorted, “More than that, probably.”

You let out a groan, “Man, I hate it here,” you said, tossing Takuya a withering look when he nudged you.

“Why’re you even doing this, y/n?” Takuya asked quietly, “you hate this shit. I can see it in your face, I know you…”

You tuned him out, you already knew what he was going to say. Takuya hated when Izanami started getting involved with the shadier part of the world, and he knew you hated it too but… you were in too deep to back out now. And it was no one’s fault but your own. And now it wasn’t just you at risk--Ran and Rindou were at risk because of you, you and your technology.

You felt sick to your stomach. 

You shouldn’t have gone to your uncle for help. You should’ve taken the loss, the embarrassment, the failure but-

“They know, Takuya,” you said, cutting him off mid-sentence. Takuya paused, looking at you. You couldn’t meet his eyes, “They know about Munich.”

Takuya’s expression dropped, “How?” he asked and you opened your mouth to respond but hesitated when you heard a pair of heels clicking against the ground, approaching you from behind. 

You looked over your shoulder, a frown tugging at your lips when caught sight of the smooth, silvery pink bob cut of Kawaragi Senju, dressed in a neat, dark suit. “Is it time already?” you asked, pushing off of the table after shooting Takuya a look. He nodded once, making his way deeper into the building to take over overseeing the new installations. You would have to talk to him later, figure out how to approach the situation--figure out if there was a way to find out if Sugawara had any physical evidence on you or your uncle’s involvement in the Munich incident. 

“Almost,” Kawaragi said, “Hanma is out in the car waiting. He can keep waiting though. I wanted to talk to you.”

You raised your eyebrows, waiting for the other young woman to elaborate, “The weapons--when we acquire them--you have a secure place to store them?”

You, you noted, narrowing into her wording of the sentence. 

Interesting, you considered her curiously, did she not want you to hand them over to Sugawara? It seemed that way. 

But you couldn’t help but hesitate.

Why? Because she didn’t trust Sugawara with them or because she was trying to set you up? 

Or are you just reading into it?

You didn’t know, you hated not knowing. It made you anxious.

You had to confirm. Or try to at least. 

“I do,” you finally said, “Is there not a place that all of you use to store… items?”

Kawaragi stared at you for a moment, face conflicted as if she wasn’t sure how to respond. Finally, she decided on, “There is,” her voice left no room for question. So there is a place, but she’d prefer the weapons not be stored there?

Ah, you realized, interesting.

“I see,” you said, “in that case, yes, I do have some place to store them.” 

She nodded once, “Good,” she said, green eyes flickering back toward you momentarily, “Be sure to stick with Hanma or me during the event, there’s bound to be a hit on your head while there.”

She motioned for you to follow her and you did so, smiling thinly, “Having a hit on my head is something I’ve become used to over the years,” you said wryly but your mind was still on overdrive, nitpicking every word of the conversation that both you and she had spoken. Had you been reading into it? No there was no way, the way she worded it… but still… there was always a chance, “Men really do seem to hate women in positions of power.”

Kawaragi snorted, “That they do,” she agreed, holding the door open for you. Your eyes fell on a sleek dark car parked on the side of the road with its window rolled down. Hanma Shuji lounged in the back, raising one hand up in a half-hearted wave before looking back down at his phone. 

Kawaragi didn’t seem inclined to continue the discussion, only walking with you toward the car and slipping into the back seat after you. As soon as you took your seat between them, Hanma leaned in uncomfortably close, “Y/n-chan, nice seeing you again,” he murmured, and it took all of your self-control not to turn to face him, knowing if you turned you’d be bumping noses with him, “You don’t look at all bothered, it’s about to get exciting, y’know? Figured you’d at least be sweating knowing there’s gonna be people after you in there.”

You turned to look at him, eyes cold and so close you could smell the faint scent of smoke on his breath, noses nearly brushing and a slow smile curled at his lips. 

“There’s always people after me,” you said flatly, “Why are you so close to me?” 

And Hanma laughed, not even bothering to move back. Kawaragi spoke before he could say anything, “Because he has no awareness of personal space,” she said dryly.

“Clearly,” you responded and Hanma gave you a mock pout.

“Look at you guys, ganging up on me like that,” he complained, leaning back against the window, eyeing you so knowingly that it had your hair on end. The wide smile shifted into a sharper smirk, “I guess I should’ve expected you two to get along, lotta similarities there.” 

Next to you, Kawaragi stiffened and your eyes narrowed onto Hanma, trying to figure out what exactly he had meant by that. 

It could just be that you’re both women and executives in the organization, you tried to convince yourself, but a heavy feeling settled in your chest--one that made you feel as if it weren’t that simple. 

You decided to ignore the comment, “What’s the game plan for the auction? We have to stay there the whole night or can we leave after we get the weapons?” 

You did not want to stay the whole night--especially if there was a chance that the Haitanis would be there. 

You felt ill. 

Bonten would be there--Sugawara is certain that they’re going to send executives to acquire the weapons. And if they’re there and if Sanzu is one of them, Hanma will recognize the pink hair from how you described in the meeting, and they’ll see the Haitanis with him and realize that they’re all together. The Haitanis would be outed as Bonten executives and there’d be nothing you could do about it.

And for a second, you hated yourself for not giving up the scarred, dark-haired one instead. There were millions of dark-haired men in Tokyo, you could have found a way to work with that to keep the Haitanis’ position in Bonten safe. But now, if Sanzu is there, you’re all but fucked. 

Fuck.

“Sugawara is pretty insistent on us ID’ing the Bonten executives while we’re there,” Hanma said, “Wants us to take out their wallet too, if we can--would cripple them real good.”

“Mm, I’m sure they’re trying to do the same to us,” you said flatly, “How are we going to pinpoint who the Bonten executives are? There’s gonna be a bunch of different organizations there, yeah?” 

Hanma only smiled, eyes dancing with mirth. Dread pooled in your gut. 

“You just leave that part to me, y/n-chan.”

--

Was it on purpose? 

Rindou didn’t know. His grip was tight around his phone as he glanced down at the message you had sent for what seemed like the millionth time since you sent it before turning off the screen, leaning against the wall and letting his hand drop back to his side, eyes sliding shut as mind raced.

He didn’t know, Ran didn’t know. No one knew. 

And Rindou wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.

He wanted to believe it was just a coincidence. That you really just got caught up with work and were letting them know what was going on, unintentionally saving their asses from going out and getting ID’ed by your newly installed biometric technology that was being put up around the city. 

But a part of him hesitated. 

Because ever since you had left to go to university abroad, since you founded Izanami and made your way into the big league industries, you had become less than forthcoming with information toward them. Legitimate explanations had turned into, ‘sorry, gonna be busy, can’t call later,’ until you just straight up ghosted them. 

And this was out of character, going into detail about what exactly the business you were dealing with involved to let them know why you wouldn’t be around. And yes, it might be because you genuinely wanted to reconnect with them, that you wanted them to know you weren’t just blowing them off for nothing--it would be the most logical explanation, Rindou knew that.

But…

But something didn’t sit right with him.

It made his skin crawl. Because why would you be warning them? How would you know they needed to be warned? Did that mean you knew they were in Bonten? How did you know that they were in Bonten? None of it added up and it made Rindou sick to his stomach because he didn’t want you to know that he and Ran had gotten involved with this, how low they had fallen.

He didn’t want you to know. It must have been a stroke of luck. He repeated it over and over again, desperately trying to convince himself.

“We shouldn’t even be here,” Kokonoi said under his breath, “we should have just sent fuckin’ Shion and his guys again.”

“Mikey wanted us to secure it, plus we can plug up their money stream by taking out whoever’s funding them,” Sanzu drawled, “stop bitchin’, Koko.”

Kokonoi shot Sanzu a lethal look, “We’re putting targets on our heads,” Kokonoi hissed, “We’re here to take out their wallet and I’m sure they have the same goal with us. And guess who that is? Me, I am our wallet. I’m the one-”

“Shut up already,” Sanzu complained, “your voice is grating.”

Kokonoi looked as if he were about to slap the shit out of Sanzu and Rindou wanted to blow his own brains out, head already pounding. 

“It would look bad on us if we didn’t show,” Kakucho murmured, in agreement with Sanzu for once, “There are higher-ups from a bunch of different organizations here. Would’ve been a sign of weakness if we sent our men.”

Rindou wasn’t too sure of that, he fought back the urge to tug at the high-collared turtleneck he had on, face flushed from heat and the three drinks he had gone through already. And even so, who gives a shit about appearances when their lives are on the line? 

“How will we even know who they are?” Ran asked, “There’s a fuck ton of people here. They could be here already and we have no idea.” 

“Just keep your head on,” Kokonoi said, “We’ll be able t-”

“Oi,” Rindou turned to face Kakucho at the unusually sharp tone from the younger man, lips tugged down, “Think we’ve got company.”

Rindou followed his gaze up toward the balcony, frowning as his eyes fell upon people standing at the edge of the balcony--none other than Hanma fucking Shuji right smack in the middle, leaning on the railing, sin and punishment hanging over it on broad display for everyone to see.

Kawaragi Senju stood right next to him, gaze trained sharply in their direction and Rindou would have looked back to check Sanzu’s reaction had he not physically faltered catching sight of the woman who just approached on Hanma’s other side.

His brows furrowed and he swore his heart faltered, what the fuck?

His head snapped to the side, trying to spot Ran to make sure he wasn’t seeing things but Ran was in just the same state of shock, taking half a step forward, lip parted, eyes wide and aimed on you--you, who was standing next to Hanma Shuji, head tilted to the side as he leaned in close, murmuring something in your ear. 

Rindou’s body was on fire and he shoved his hands into his pockets to hide the way his fingers had started trembling. 

A coincidence? he thought desperately, but the sinking feeling in his chest only grew as Hanma Shuji nudged his nose against the side of your head before nodding in their direction. Rindou watched as your face turned, following Hanma’s eyes down toward where Rindou was standing with Ran, Sanzu, Kakucho and Kokonoi.

Your expression didn’t even shift once, no sign of acknowledgment, or recognition, a sort of stone cold emptiness that had Rindou’s heart in his throat, “That can’t be them,” Rindou didn’t even recognize his own voice as he shook his head, “It must be another group.” 

“It makes sense,” Kokonoi said, voice low, “I don’t know how I didn’t put it together sooner. Of fucking course it was Ichirou that’s been funding them, he’s really the only one that can compete with me financially.”

“No,” Rindou said but even as he spoke, he knew he was only trying to convince himself, “It can’t be, she’s not involved with this shit. She-”

“Rindou,” Kakucho cut him off and Rindou hated the half-pitying look that Kakucho shot in his direction. 

“Don’t fuckin’ look at me like that,” Rindou spit out, mind racing as he looked back at Ran whose lips were twisted into a frown and whose eyes were dark as he looked up at you, Hanma Shuji and Kawaragi Senju.

There was no way, there was just no way, Rindou refused to believe it because he knew you, and he knew you’d never get involved with this life.

Unless you had no choice, a darker voice reminded him and he still tried to argue, no, you wouldn’t-

You had done shady shit in the past--lying on the stand when they were going to be sent to juvie to get their sentence lowered, threatening South at the detention center, you were capable of it but-

But Rindou couldn’t bring himself to believe it. 

Even if he was looking right at you.

His gaze darted back toward Ran again, trying to figure out what the fuck he should do but Ran couldn’t seem to tear his eyes off of you, “Ran,” Rindou muttered quietly, trying to get his attention but his brother didn’t respond, the only sign of acknowledgment being the downward twitch of his lips. “Ran,” Rindou repeated but again got no response.

Rindou’s fist curled tight in his pocket, eyes darting back up toward where you were talking quietly with Hanma, dressed in a dark suit and standing too close to the man for comfort. Or, his comfort at least, you looked more than comfortable half-leaning into Hanma Shuji, whispering to each other like teenage girls at a lunch table in high school.

There’s no way, he thought, teeth grit together tight but he couldn’t even convince himself because Kokonoi was right. They should have known that it was your uncle funding the organization that kept stepping in Bonten’s way at every turn. He was the only one that could match Kokonoi financially, and they should have put together that the moment the tides started shifting into Bonten’s favor, you came back to Tokyo--not to oversee the acquisition, not to see them, but to deepen your uncle and that group’s wallet.

Fuck, Rindou was going to have a panic attack as he slowly realized what this all meant--he could feel his chest tightening and his body was searing hot, it felt like his skin was melting right off his bones. Calm down, he tried to tell himself before he spiraled. The last time he had to deal with this was…

His eyes darted back up toward you and Rindou’s mouth went dry when your eyes met his. He waited for any sort of acknowledgment, or any sort of hint that this might not be what it looks like but all he got was an empty stare in response--cold, calculating, void of any emotion that might soothe Rindou’s growing anxiety.

The means they know anyway, Rindou’s mind was racing, you saw them all at the club--him, Ran, Sanzu, Kakucho, Kokonoi--with the tattoos on broad display, there’s no way-

The hit.

Rindou’s world stilled, the hit, there’s a hit on their wallet--there’s a hit on you, you’re the one funding them, you-

“Sanzu, call off the hit,” Rindou’s voice sounded far away even to his own ears, and he didn’t even know why he was doing this. You left them, you were on the other side, so why- “Sanzu, call off the fucking hit.”

Sanzu didn’t respond, gaze dark and trained solely on Kawaragi Senju, Rindou snapped his attention to Kakucho, “Kakucho, call off the hit,” Rindou hissed. “Call it off.”

Kakucho wouldn’t look at him, “I can’t do that, Rindou,” he murmured and Rindou stepped closer to him, fist tight and arm shaking.

“Kakucho, I’ll fucking kill you, that’s y/n, call off the fucking hit,” Rindou was speaking before his mind could catch up and Rindou knew, he knew that he shouldn’t be saying this--defending you, who seemed to be in league with Bonten’s enemies, it was tantamount to betrayal and he knew that you didn’t deserve his defense but Rindou couldn’t stop himself.

“Rindou, we can’t-”

“Hi!” your familiar voice met his ears and instantly, the anger disappeared and was replaced by confusion. He turned to face, eyes falling upon the wide smile pulling at your lips. If Rindou had been anyone else, he would have fallen for the excited look and bright-eyed gaze you directed toward them.

Or, Kokonoi, actually, he realized once he noticed who your gaze was trained on. Hanma Shuji and Kawaragi Senju followed behind you, the former eyeing you curiously while the latter looked confused.

“You must be Kokonoi Hajime!” you said loudly, pressing a palm to your chest and Rindou’s brows furrowed ever-so slightly. You had met Kokonoi the other night, why… ”It’s a pleasure to finally meet the man that has backed my uncle so neatly into a corner! I must say I’m impressed, the fact that he had to call me back into town to handle you is quite the feat, if I do say so myself! He’s not one to ask for help, you know?” 

“Handle me?” Kokonoi raised his eyebrows, and your smile widened and Rindou wanted to scream. He looked over to Ran, still unsure as to what to do, but Ran was only watching you, frowning deep, eyes dark. 

“Oh, is that what I said? A slip of the tongue,” you laughed it off but for a second, when your gaze darted toward Rindou, the smile didn’t reach your eyes. It was not a slip of the tongue, Rindou recognized, throat tight--you were brought back to help take down Bonten. But you lied like second nature, so well that Rindou barely even caught the lies--all of your old tells long gone, and Rindou wondered just how much you had changed over the years. 

You held your hand out toward Kokonoi.

“L/n y/n,” you introduced, and Rindou watched, an uncomfortable feeling stirring as Kokonoi took your hand and you immediately leaned in close, face inches from him. “But you can call me y/n,” you said, tossing him a wink.

Kokonoi, to his credit, did not look uncomfortable at the sudden proximity, “Call me Hajime,” he said, and your eyes turned up at the words as you finally took a step back. The uncomfortable feeling slipped away as fast as it came. 

“I’m going to go make some rounds, I hope we get the chance to talk again later, Hajime!” 

Rindou hated the way you said his name. He hated the way you didn’t look at him or Ran once. He hated the way your eyes glossed over them as if they weren’t there. He hated the way he could feel Ran’s discomfort even from several feet away. And he hated the way you didn’t even bother to look back as you and Hanma Shuji and Kawaragi Senju started to make your way to the front stage.

“Y/n!” another voice called, accented--German, maybe?--and Rindou watched as your expression dropped, eyes cold and unwelcoming, lips tight. Rindou followed where the voice had come from, eyes falling upon a young blonde man with dark eyes, “It’s been forever!” 

You paused midstep, barely turning your head to look over your shoulder, eyeing the man from the corner of your eye. Hanma’s brows furrowed as he looked between the two of you, Kawaragi’s lips dipped into a frown. 

Your face had drained of color and a heavy feeling settled in Rindou’s chest as he looked between the two of you.

Something was wrong. He was sure he’d never seen you so… scared. You looked fucking scared and it made Rindou’s skin crawl.

“Man, I think the last time we talked was in Munich! Can you believe it's really been six years?” 

---

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