I posted these on my tiktok (buglejupiter)!! I had a lot of fun doing these, and hopefully wanna make more content like this in the future, but for now I wanna make more serious art (still ac related, ofc)

「ᰔᩚ」 :: baji keisuke! failing to hide his devotion until it's far too late to say it out loud.

tags: baji keisuke, baji keisuke x reader, tokyo revengers, high school sweethearts, slow burn, angst, chifuyu matsuno, tokyo revengers manga/anime spoilers.

the beginning: a lost lunchbox

it was the first year of elementary school, and keisuke baji was already a hurricane in a small, oversized uniform. while other kids were learning to sit still, keisuke was busy wrestling his desk or trying to see if he could fit his entire hand into his pencil case. you, on the other hand, were the quiet observer—the calm center to his constant, chaotic orbit.

when the bell rang for the final time that day, you noticed the neon-blue plastic lunchbox left under his chair. keisuke had already sprinted out the door, yelling something about a stray cat he’d seen near the park. you picked it up, feeling the weight of the metal thermos inside, and began the walk to his house. you knew exactly where he lived—he talked loud enough that the entire neighborhood probably knew his address.

when you arrived, ryoko baji was standing at the front door, looking frazzled as she checked her watch. you didn't hesitate, stepping up to the gate.

"excuse me," you said, your voice steady despite the adrenaline. "baji-kun left this at school. he’s going to be hungry later."

ryoko blinked, looking down at you, then at the lunchbox, and finally, a wide, knowing grin spread across her face. "oh, you must be his classmate! he’d be always forgetting his head if it wasn't attached."

just then, keisuke rounded the corner, hair a complete mess, a grass stain on his knee, and his shirt unbuttoned halfway. he stopped dead when he saw you standing by his mother. his face went from its usual feral intensity to a weird, stunned blankness.

"hai," you said, holding out the lunchbox. "you forgot this."

keisuke snatched it from your hands, his ears turning a bright, burning red. he didn't say "thank you"—that wasn't his style. instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets, looked at the ground, and grumbled, "tch. whatever. why were you following me, anyway?"

he was trying to play it cool, but the way he kept glancing at you from under his bangs—like you were a puzzle he couldn't solve—said everything he refused to vocalize.

growing up with keisuke

throughout elementary and middle school, keisuke never explicitly told anyone you were "his." he didn't have to. if another boy tried to talk to you, keisuke would "accidentally" trip them, bump into them while walking too fast, or just stand close enough to you that the other kid got intimidated and walked away. he’d act like he was just hanging around, but his presence was a constant, protective shield.

studying with baji is less about books and more about managing chaos. he is terrible at sitting still. he’ll start off trying to read, then suddenly he’s pacing your room, shadowboxing in front of your mirror, or trying to convince you that your homework is "lame" and you should go play games instead. you learned early on that the only way to get him to work is to ignore his dramatics. eventually, he settles down, usually by sprawling on your floor, his head resting against your leg while he pretends to look at his notes.

keisuke doesn't do romantic letters or flowers. his version of affection involves bringing you things he thinks are "cool." he’s brought you weird rocks he found, rare pokémon cards, or even half-eaten bags of snacks he decided you’d like. if he gives you a snack that he’s already opened, that’s his version of a love confession. it means he trusts you enough to share his stash.

as you both got older, the dynamic shifted. the loud, rowdy boy finds himself naturally quieting down when he’s around you. in the middle of a high-tension day or a fight, if he spots you, he’ll immediately straighten up. he hates looking like a delinquent in your eyes, even though he knows exactly who he is.

he struggles with the idea of being "soft." he thinks being gentle makes him weak, so he expresses his adoration through acts of defiance—fighting for you, defending you, or making sure that if anyone is going to annoy you, it’s only going to be him. he is the storm, and you are the only thing that can force the storm to slow its winds.

at fifteen, everything is loud, even when it’s supposed to be quiet. you and keisuke are navigating the chaotic friction of high school, a delicate balance where he is a walking disaster and you are the only one holding the leash.

every morning, like clockwork, the sound of a beat-up motorcycle engine—or just his heavy boots hitting the pavement—signals that he’s outside your house. he never texts or calls; he just waits. when you walk out, he’s leaning against a wall, trying to look bored, his school uniform jacket slung over one shoulder. he doesn’t say "good morning." 

he just grunts, tosses his bag higher onto his back, and starts walking, expecting you to keep up. he doesn’t walk with you so much as he creates a perimeter around you, his eyes constantly scanning the street, his body language shifting the moment a stranger looks your way.

he’s a mess when it comes to you—he’s clumsy with his words, his temper flares at the slightest disrespect, and he has a habit of biting his lip until it bleeds whenever you accidentally brush against him. he is terrified of his own feelings, seeing them as a weakness he can't afford. he doesn't realize that you’re just as lost, or that your calm demeanor is the only thing keeping his heart from detonating.

you’ve become his unofficial accomplice. when he skips class to deal with gang business, his seat remains empty, and you’re the one who lies to the teachers, covering for him with a perfectly rehearsed excuse. the moment he slides back into his desk, smelling of sweat and asphalt, you’re there to lecture him, your voice low and sharp.

"you’re going to get expelled, baji," you whisper, sliding your notes toward him.

he just smirks, that wild, arrogant look in his eyes that usually intimidates everyone else, but with you, it just drops. he hates that you care, because it makes him feel guilty for the dangerous world he drags into your orbit.

his friends in toman all know about you—how you look, your name, how you’re the only person who can make him actually listen—but he keeps you in a glass case, far away from their world. he refuses to let them meet you. he keeps his two worlds strictly separated because he knows exactly what would happen if the filth of the streets touched you.

the only exception is chifuyu. chifuyu sees you in the halls, sees the way baji-san watches you from the shadows, and he knows better than to ever approach. he knows the look on keisuke’s face when he sees you talking to someone else—a mix of possessiveness and genuine panic. to keisuke, you are the one thing that isn't a weapon, the one thing he isn't allowed to break.

the hallway was buzzing with the chaos of the final bell, but you moved through it with a quiet, efficient grace. as one of the top students in the grade, you usually spent your time navigating between the library and your classrooms, your schedule as structured as your notes.

chifuyu had been pacing outside the classroom, tapping his foot, waiting for baji to emerge so they could handle some business for the gang. but the room was empty, and the desk where baji usually slouched—the one you spent half your time keeping clean—was vacant.

chifuyu turned on his heel, frustrated, only to jump nearly a foot into the air.

you were standing right behind him, your expression unreadable but your eyes sharp. you hadn't made a sound.

"ah—! damn it!" chifuyu stumbled back, his heart hammering against his ribs. he blinked, staring at you. he recognized you immediately—how could he not? baji-san talked about "her" in the abstract, described your habits, and protected your image like a holy relic. seeing you in the flesh, calm and composed, was almost jarring.

"i’m sorry, i didn't mean to startle you," you said, your voice soft and polite, a stark contrast to the rough, loud world chifuyu was used to. you offered a slight, apologetic bow. "i’m [reader] i was just looking for keisuke."

chifuyu swallowed, his mind racing. so this is the girl. "uh, yeah. i'm chifuyu. matsuno. i'm... looking for him too."

you sighed, the faint line of irritation creasing your forehead—a look of genuine concern hidden behind a mask of annoyance. "he skipped the last two periods again. it's getting ridiculous." 

you looked at chifuyu, your gaze steady and kind, completely devoid of the judgment the other students held for the delinquent boys. "if you see him, tell him i’m annoyed. he’s falling behind, and i’m tired of covering for him when he isn't even here to take notes."

chifuyu stood there, frozen, watching you as you turned to walk away. you didn't demand, you didn't yell; you just spoke with the quiet authority of someone who held a tether on his captain’s heart.

as you walked down the hall, your posture perfect and your books tucked neatly against your chest, everything clicked into place for chifuyu. he watched you disappear around the corner and let out a long, shaky breath.

so that’s why, he thought, a small, knowing smirk touching his lips. that’s why baji-san acts like a caged animal when anyone looks at her wrong.

he finally understood. it wasn't just that baji was protective—it was that baji was terrified. standing in your presence, chifuyu felt the weight of it: the overwhelming, impossible gravity of a boy like baji being completely, hopelessly captivated by a girl who looked at him with enough care to make him want to be a better person—even if he was too stubborn to admit it.

october 31st

the tension in the air was thick enough to choke on, though you didn't have a name for it. you only knew that keisuke was a frayed wire, vibrating with an intensity that bordered on dangerous. he wasn't lashing out at you—in fact, it was the opposite. he had become a gravitational force, constantly orbiting you, silent and watchful.

while chifuyu was nursing the physical and emotional scars of the brutal beating baji had dealt him to secure his spot in valhalla, you were dealing with a different kind of ache. you saw the distance between the two of them; you saw the way baji’s eyes would go blank and cold whenever chifuyu’s name was mentioned. but you stayed in your lane, held back by a sense of foreboding that kept your tongue tied.

then came the morning of october 31st.

the dawn was gray and biting. you were waiting at the usual corner, and when baji finally appeared, he didn't look like the boy who usually mocked your punctuality. he looked haunted. his uniform was rumpled, his hair unkempt, and there was a restless energy in his fingers as he shoved them deep into his pockets.

"you're late," you said, though the sharp edge you usually used to scold him was replaced by a soft, trembling worry. "and you look like hell, keisuke."

he didn't fire back with a snide remark. he didn't tell you to shut up. he just stopped in front of you, his tall, broad frame casting a long shadow over you.

he stood there for a long time, staring at you as if he were trying to memorize the way your hair fell or the exact color of your eyes under the morning light.

"keisuke?" you prompted, reaching out to touch his sleeve, but he flinched—not away from you, but towards you, pressing his forehead against your shoulder for a split second before pulling back. it was a moment of agonizing vulnerability.

"just... keep your head down today," he muttered, his voice gravelly and stripped of its usual bravado. "don't go anywhere after school. just go straight home. promise me."

"why are you acting like this?" you asked, your heart hammering against your ribs. "what is going on with you and chifuyu? i know something is wrong. i know you're hiding something."

he looked at you then, and the raw, desperate hunger in his expression made your breath hitch. he wanted to tell you everything. he wanted to drown in the safety of your presence, to beg you to pull him away from the cliff’s edge. but he was baji keisuke, and he would never let his darkness touch you.

he didn't answer. instead, he reached out—a rare, clumsy motion—and brushed his knuckles against your cheek. his hand was warm, shaking ever so slightly.

"you're really something, you know that?" he whispered, his eyes lingering on you with a terrifying, final intensity. "just stay safe. don't worry about me. just... keep being you."

he turned and walked away before you could grab his sleeve. you watched his retreating back, the weight of his words pressing down on you. you didn't know about valhalla, you didn't know about the betrayal, and you didn't know that he was walking into a fire that would consume him. 

you just stood there in the cold morning, feeling the heavy, suffocating silence he left behind—a silence that felt suspiciously like a goodbye.

the day of october 31st dragged on like a slow-motion car crash. in class, everything was technically "normal"—the teacher droned on, students whispered, and the clock ticked—but the air around baji’s empty desk felt vacuum-sealed. he had barely stayed for half the day, drifting in and out with a feverish restlessness that made your skin crawl. he hadn't bothered to look at you, but you felt his eyes on you every time you turned a page, a silent, heavy weight that made your chest ache.

the next morning, the corner where you waited was empty. the silence of the street felt aggressive.

you walked to school alone, your frustration mounting with every step. you were furious at him for his reckless disappearing act, but beneath the anger, a cold, sharp dread was knitting itself into your stomach. 

“he’s pushed it too far this time,” you thought, your grip tightening on your bag strap. “i’m going straight to his house after school. i’m telling his mom everything. i’m done with the games.”

the school day felt like an eternity. you spent the hours rehearsing exactly what you were going to say to his mother, planning to drag keisuke out by his ear if you had to.

when the final bell rang, you were the last one left in the classroom. the silence of the empty desks was oppressive. 

you were just about to slide your chair in and head for the door when a shadow fell across the threshold.

you looked up, expecting to see a teacher or perhaps a delinquent looking for trouble.

instead, it was chifuyu.

your breath hitched. he looked like he had been through a war. his face was a roadmap of bruises, a thick white bandage wrapped around his head, and his eyes—usually bright and defiant—were raw, bloodshot, and brimming with a grief he was desperately trying to bottle up behind a mask of forced, trembling strength.

he didn't come inside. he stopped at the door, and as he looked at you, his composure shattered just for a second. he leaned forward, bowing deeply, his head nearly touching the floor in an act of profound, crushing respect and regret.

"i am so sorry," he choked out, his voice cracking.

you stood frozen, your books slipping slightly in your arms. 

"chifuyu? what... what happened? where is he?"

he didn't answer with words at first. his hands were shaking violently as he pulled a folded, slightly crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. he held it out to you with both hands, his knuckles white.

"he... he wanted you to have this," chifuyu whispered, refusing to meet your eyes. he began to explain, his voice a strained, broken rhythm as he recounted the events of the previous night. he spoke of valhalla, of the fight, of the irreversible choices that were made. every word was a serrated blade, cutting through the reality you had known.

"i couldn't stop him," chifuyu sobbed, the mask of strength finally slipping entirely as tears tracked through the grime on his bruised face. "i tried... i tried so hard, but i couldn't do anything. i failed him, and i failed you. i am so, so sorry."

he apologized again, and again, bowing until he looked like he might collapse under the weight of his own guilt. you didn't hear the rest of his words. your world had stopped. you reached out, your fingers trembling as they brushed the paper—a final, silent message from a boy who had spent his life acting like a storm, only to leave you in the sudden, deafening quiet of his absence.