#osayuma

Osamu finally doing something genuinely selfish (no, your whole "I do it for myself" thing does not count as being selfish, Osamu, that's called lying to yourself and downplaying your batshit insane mentality) by getting on his knees and begging Yuma to do whatever it takes to stay alive, even if it means Yuma will have to go through extremely difficult rehab when he returns to his original body, even if it means he has to live with the constant reminder that his dad is still dead while he's alive, even if it means being in pain. He just wants Yuma to live.

Yuma also genuinely getting mad mad. Not the quiet, smoldering anger he had towards Midorikawa near the beginning of the series, but actually exploding and letting his restraint go. I want him to yell, grab, let him twist his expression into one of fury as he tries to cling to his "I'm going to die anyway so having hope is only a burden" mentality, even to the point of saying some things he never would have said under the layers of emotional repression. I want to see him give in, like he always does, and reluctantly agree to stay alive.

I know it's sooo never gonna happen but. ough. THINK ABOUT IT. the one time they allow themselves to be the complete opposite of what they've established themselves to be in each other's eyes is when they're finally, genuinely at odds with each other.

Pairing: Mikumo Osamu / Kuga Yuma

Note: Yuma got his normal body back with the black hair and now can grow and sleep

It was an unusually quiet afternoon at HQ. The sun had peaked, casting a warm, golden glow over everything, making the entire building feel sleepy. Most of the agents had taken advantage of the lull in activity to rest, and Osamu found himself wandering the halls, in search of his teammates.

He peeked into the Tamakoma dormitory’s living room, and there, sprawled out on the couch, was Yuma. A light breeze from the open window ruffled his now black hair, which Osamu still wasn’t used to seeing after so long with the snowy-white trion body. Yuma, who once couldn't rest at all due to the limitations of his old body, was now asleep — softly, peacefully.

Osamu smiled. It was rare for Yuma to nap, much less so comfortably. His small frame seemed even smaller curled up on the couch, his chest rising and falling rhythmically, the picture of contentment. He looked so much more like a normal kid now, without the perpetual energy and alertness he carried when he was in his trion body.

Without thinking, Osamu approached quietly and sat on the edge of the couch, his gaze softening as he looked down at Yuma. His friend had been through so much, enduring a life that forced him to constantly be on guard, unable to sleep properly or feel comfortable in his own skin. But now, in this body—his regained, real body—Yuma was finally at peace.

Gently, Osamu reached out, his hand hovering for a moment before he softly brushed Yuma’s hair away from his face. The strands were soft, unlike the cold and synthetic feel of his trion form. Osamu’s hand lingered on Yuma’s head, carefully, like he was afraid to disturb this rare, tender moment.

Yuma stirred slightly, but didn’t wake. Instead, his face seemed to relax even more, a soft, almost imperceptible smile tugging at his lips. It was something so small, yet it filled Osamu’s heart with warmth.

Yuma had always been there for him, protecting him in every battle, using his overwhelming strength and quick reflexes to make up for what Osamu lacked. But here, in this simple moment, Osamu felt like he could give something back. Even if it was just ensuring Yuma could sleep soundly, it made Osamu happy.

His fingers continued to gently caress Yuma’s hair, tracing the edges of his jawline before stopping. Yuma, so unguarded now, looked like the young boy he was—just another 15-year-old, instead of the battle-hardened Neighbour warrior he had become.

“You’ve really come far,” Osamu whispered, his voice low, almost afraid to break the tranquility.

Yuma’s eyelids fluttered slightly but didn’t open. Osamu chuckled under his breath, watching his friend with a sense of affection that ran deeper than he could express. It wasn’t often he got to see Yuma in such a vulnerable state, and it reminded him of all the battles they had fought, how hard Yuma had worked to get his real body back.

For once, it felt like things were good. Peaceful. Even in the chaos of Border, of the battles they faced, there was this—these small, cherished moments of calm, of warmth.

Osamu leaned back slightly, careful not to wake him, though he couldn’t resist one last affectionate touch, letting his fingers graze through Yuma’s hair one more time.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Osamu said softly, his voice full of warmth. And in that quiet afternoon sun, with Yuma asleep and finally at ease, Osamu allowed himself to just... be happy.

They had faced so much together, and there was still so much more ahead. But for now, this was enough.