#tokrev

crack.

the guy doesn't finish the sentence.

because mikey’s chair scrapes back slow. deliberate.

and the next sound is the sharp, ugly thud of knuckles slamming bone.

you weren’t even in the room.

but he heard it.

you—his soft little girl who still thinks the world is kind.

who wears his hoodie like it’s armor.

who doesn’t know half the shit he’s done just to keep that smile on your face safe.

you would’ve smiled at the guy if he approached you.

probably would’ve been nice. too nice. that’s just who you are.

but mikey knows what guys like that mean.

and now?

so does he.

the guy’s on the floor. blood in his mouth. gasping.

“what the hell, man?! it was just a joke!”

mikey’s voice is low. flat. too calm.

but his eyes? his eyes are pitch black.

“say it again.”

his foot comes down, hard, right beside the guy’s head.

“go on,” he whispers. “you were brave enough a second ago. finish the joke.”

silence.

everyone in the room holds their breath.

mikey crouches down—slow, almost casual. and when he speaks, it’s still soft.

“you think you can look at her like that? think you can talk about her like she’s something you can take?”

he tilts his head. the corner of his lip twitches—not a smile.

“you think you can walk out of here with your tongue still in your mouth?”

he laughs then. quietly.

“nah.”

a pause. a hum.

“you don’t get to want her. you don’t get to see her. you don’t even get to say her name.”

and then he leans in real close, whispers—

“you ever breathe in her direction again, i’ll bury you before sunset.”

his fist tightens.

but before he can throw another punch, his phone buzzes.

it’s a text.

you: what time r u coming over? i miss u

he reads it.

his expression softens instantly. like someone flipped a switch.

he pockets the phone. stands. straightens his hoodie.

then he turns his back on the room—on the guy still bleeding on the floor—and walks off like none of it ever happened.

later that night, you greet him with sleepy eyes and open arms. you don’t ask why he smells like cigarette smoke and dust. you just press a kiss to his cheek and murmur, “missed you.”

and he pulls you into his chest. breathes you in.

like you’re his only tether to the earth.

because you are.

You stare harder.

She seems physically pained. “Tokyo Manji Gang? Toman? The delinquent gang that runs this entire side of the city? He’s their leader?”

Ah.

So your partner is a truant crime boss.

Fantastic.

You raise your hand.

Your teacher doesn’t even look up from his attendance sheet. “No, you may not switch partners.”

“I didn’t even ask yet.”

“But you were going to.”

You lower your hand and sigh. “Okay, but my partner isn’t here.”

“He’s never here.”

“…That should be the first red flag right there.”

Your teacher pinches the bridge of his nose. You feel bad for him. He looks like he hasn’t slept since the Meiji period.

“Just… find him,” he says weakly. “Work it out.”

You’re about to argue about fairness, about not being partnered with a literal urban legend but the bell rings, and twenty students flood the hallways, leaving you with your backpack, your half-finished worksheet, and a headache.

You stare at the name again.

Manjiro Sano.

Whoever he is, he’s not dragging your grade down.

You’ll hunt him down yourself if you have to.

-----

Finding Mikey turns out to be harder than you thought.

You ask one classmate where he usually is. They faint.

You ask another. They run away.

Eventually you corner a third, who trembles through an explanation that you should “try the parking lot” like that means anything.

The parking lot is empty.

Then someone else suggests the shrine.

The shrine is empty.

Finally, by pure accident, you overhear some first-years whispering about “Mikey-san and Draken-san” being at “their spot,” which apparently everyone knows about except you.

And that’s how you end up here.

In front of them.

Toman.

A whole cluster of them, lounging around abandoned bikes, laughing, shoving each other, wearing matching jackets, and collectively radiating the kind of chaotic energy that warns normal people to turn around and walk away.

You are not normal people.

You march straight up to the nearest one.

He stops mid-sentence, staring at you like you’ve just approached a wolf pack holding a report card.

“Um. Hi.” You adjust your backpack straps. “I’m looking for Manjiro Sano.”

Five heads swivel toward you.

A tall boy with blonde hair, definitely Draken, gives you a long, assessing stare like he’s trying to figure out if you’re suicidal or just clueless.

“Why,” he finally asks, “are you looking for Mikey?”

“I’m his project partner.”

Silence.

The type that has weight.

The type that says whole gangs have been wiped out over less shocking statements.

Draken clears his throat. “Come again?”

You hold up your assignment paper like a badge. “Group project. He’s my partner. He hasn’t been in class since the beginning of time, so I need him to do his part.”

Someone chokes.

Someone else drops their cigarette.

Draken rubs a hand down his face. “God, you’re serious.”

“Yes?” You glance around. “Should… I not be?”

Before Draken can answer, a voice floats in from behind him, light, airy, singsong.

“Drakeeeeen, did you eat the last dorayaki? I told you I was saving that-”

A small figure hops off a bike and walks closer, pout already forming.

Blonde hair. Big dark eyes. A lollipop in his mouth.

Mikey.

He looks nothing like a terrifying gang leader should look. He looks like a boy who makes trouble because he thinks it’s fun. He looks like he hasn’t attended a single class in months.

He looks at you.

You look at him.

He tilts his head.

“…Who’re you?”

“I,” you say, stepping closer, “am the person whose grade you’re ruining.”

The entire gang audibly inhales.

Mikey blinks at you once, twice, like a cat processing a new toy. Then, slowly, a smile curls onto his lips.

“Oh,” he says. “Class stuff.”

“Yes. Class stuff.” You cross your arms. “You are my partner. You are failing. Actually, both of us are failing, because of you. So get up. We have work to do.”

The look on their faces is priceless.

A mix of horror, awe, and mild respect.

And Mikey? He just grins wider, leaning in with a glint in his eye like he’s found something interesting for once.

“Hmm,” he hums, looking you up and down. “You’re kinda bossy.”

“Only when my GPA is endangered.”

Draken mutters, “This is insane,” under his breath.

Mikey pops the lollipop out of his mouth, points at you with it, and says:

“Alright. I’ll help you.”

Everyone stares at him.

“You will?” you ask, surprised.

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “You came all the way here. That’s kinda cool.”

You blink, taken aback.

Then…

“Great,” you say briskly. “Let’s go.”

Mikey hops up immediately, following you like a duckling.

Toman watches their leader get dragged away by a random classmate like he just imprinted on you.

Draken calls after him, “DON’T SKIP, MIKEY!”

Mikey calls back, “I’M NOT SKIPPING, I’M STUDYING!”

Then he turns to you with an eager expression that should not exist on the face of a known menace.

“So,” he says brightly, “what’s the project about?”

You exhale.

This is going to be hell.

------

You drag Mikey back to school like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

It isn’t.

People stop and stare as the two of you walk through the gate: you with your backpack, him with his hands tucked into his pockets and a lollipop in his mouth, looking like he’s on a casual stroll instead of being forcibly escorted to class.

You can practically hear the rumors writing themselves.

“Is that… Mikey?”

“Why is he here?”

“Who’s that with him?”

“Is she… his girlfriend?”

You ignore it all, focusing on your actual mission: the project.

“Take off your shoes,” you say, pointing at the entrance cubbies.

Mikey squints at them like they’re an unfamiliar species. “Oh, right. School rules.”

“You remember those?”

“Mm,” he hums. “Draken used to yell at me about it.”

You can imagine it. You don’t have to try very hard.

Once you’ve swapped shoes, you march him down the hallway. He keeps drifting, getting distracted by posters and windows and literally nothing. Twice you have to grab the back of his uniform jacket to stop him from wandering off.

“This is boring,” he says eventually.

“You haven’t even started yet.”

“I can feel it.”

You roll your eyes and shove the classroom door open.

Every head snaps toward you.

Then the room collectively stops breathing.

Someone whispers, “No way.”

Someone else reaches for their phone like they want to document this rare, possibly mythical occurrence.

Mikey looks around, visibly unimpressed. “Smells like chalk.”

“That’s because it’s a classroom,” you mutter. You point at his assigned seat, empty since the dawn of time. “Sit there.”

He plops into the desk, spinning slightly on the chair, legs stretching out. He slumps back like he’s at home, eyes flicking over the whiteboard.

Your teacher looks like he might faint.

“M-Mikey,” he stammers from the front, clutching his attendance sheet.

Mikey lifts a hand lazily. “Yo.”

The class is buzzing now, whispers bouncing off the walls.

“He actually came.”

“Who brought him?”

“That girl is insane.”

You ignore the buzzing, tug your notebook out, and slide into the seat next to his. The moment you do, the whispers change tone. More pointed. More curious.

You pretend not to hear any of it.

“Okay,” you say, flipping to a blank page. “The project is on post-war economic reforms. We need to pick a specific policy, research its effects, and do a presentation.”

Mikey stares at you with the most offended expression you’ve ever seen. “Post… what now?”

“Post-war economic reforms.”

“Why can’t we do something cool? Like… famous fights in history.”

“Because that’s not the assignment.”

He slumps further, cheek squishing against the desk. “School sucks.”

“You wouldn’t know,” you mutter. “You’re never here.”

He grins sideways at you. “But I’m here now. For you.”

Your heartbeat does a stupid little jump.

You squash it immediately.

“For the project,” you correct him sharply.

“Mm,” he hums, smile not budging. “Sure.”

-----

The after-school library is painfully quiet.

Mikey is not.

He drums his fingers on the table. Taps his foot. Tilts back in his chair. Tilts too far, almost falls, then catches himself with a laugh that makes three people look over and shush him.

You slap your hand down on the stack of textbooks between you.

“Focus.”

“Can’t.”

“Try.”

“Don’t wanna.”

You inhale through your nose and exhale through your teeth. “Okay. New approach.”

He perks up slightly. “Does it involve food?”

You blink.

Pause.

Absolutely recalibrate your whole plan.

“…It can.”

His eyes brighten instantly. “I like this approach.”

You dig into your bag and pull out the small paper bag you brought, because some annoyingly soft part of you anticipated this. You pull out a neatly wrapped dorayaki and set it on the table.

Mikey goes very still.

“Is that-”

“Yes,” you say. “And you can have it if you answer five questions correctly.”

He stares at you.

You stare back.

The air between you feels loaded, like some unspoken challenge has been issued.

Finally, Mikey leans forward, elbows on the table, eyes shining with determination you haven’t seen once in class.

“Alright, partner,” he says. “Teach me.”

You try not to smile.

You fail.

Just a little.

“Okay,” you say, pointing at a paragraph. “What was one of the goals of the post-war economic reforms?”

Mikey squints at the page, lips moving as he reads. You watch his eyes track the lines, a little slower than you expected, but steady.

“…To reduce the power of large… conglomerates,” he reads carefully, then glances up. “So rich guys couldn’t control everything?”

“Exactly,” you say, pleased. “That’s one.”

His gaze flicks to the dorayaki. “Four more.”

You work through questions. You simplify things where you can, connect it to stuff he’d care about.

“So basically,” you say, tapping the page, “they broke up economic power so one group couldn’t dominate everything.”

“Like how Toman doesn’t let other gangs run our turf,” he says without missing a beat.

You pause.

“…Sure,” you say slowly. “Kind of.”

His whole face lights up. “I get it now.”

You stare at him.

It hits you that he isn’t stupid. Not even a little. He’s just... unbothered. Uninterested. Floating through life on his own orbit.

But when something hooks him, when something connects, he’s sharp.

You’re weirdly gratified you were the one to make that connection.

Five questions later, he’s chewing happily on his dorayaki, crumbs dotting his lips. You’re surrounded by open books and scattered notes, and somehow, progress has been made.

“Not bad,” you admit, scribbling down your half of the outline. “You might actually pass.”

He leans back, watching you as he chews. “Hey.”

“Mm?”

“You always work this hard?”

You shrug. “Someone has to.”

“That why you came to find me?”

“Someone had to.”

He hums thoughtfully, sucking some filling off his thumb. “You’re kinda scary.”

You blink. “Excuse me?”

“In a good way,” he clarifies immediately. “Like Draken. Just smaller. And cuter.”

Your pen stutters.

You refuse to dignify that with a response.

------

Word spreads fast.

By the second study session, Toman is aware.

You know this because when you show up at Draken’s bike shop, at Mikey’s invitation, no less, there’s a row of delinquents pretending very badly not to watch.

“You’re back,” Draken says when you step in, wiping grease off his hands. His gaze darts to the stack of notebooks you’re carrying. “You really got him doing schoolwork?”

“Trying,” you say. “He invited me.”

Draken snorts. “That’s a first.”

Mikey is perched on an overturned crate, swinging his legs, half-empty bag of snacks beside him. He brightens the second he spots you.

“Oi, partner!”

The word makes something flutter in your chest. You press it down and drop your bag at his feet.

“Alright,” you say. “Today we’re working on our presentation structure.”

He frowns. “Didn’t we already study?”

“Knowing things is step one,” you say. “Explaining them without sounding like an idiot is step two.”

“Ouch,” he says, clutching his chest dramatically.

You sit beside him on the crate, knees bumping. It’s a tight squeeze, but you don’t move away. Neither does he.

“Okay,” you say, opening the notebook and angling it between you. “Look. We divide it like this-”

As you talk, filling out a rough outline, you can feel eyes on you.

You glance up.

Half of Toman is leaning around doorways, peeking from behind shelves, very obviously eavesdropping.

You stare.

They freeze.

Mitsuya raises a hand weakly. “Don’t mind us.”

“This is creepy,” you say flatly.

“Don’t worry about them,” Mikey says, reaching over your arm to steal a pen just because it’s yours. “They’re just curious.”

“About what?” you demand.

He shrugs, leaning so close his shoulder presses into yours. “You.”

Your face heats.

You try to hide it by pointing aggressively at the notebook. “Focus, Sano.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says cheerfully.

The others exchange looks.

You hear someone whisper, “She just told Mikey to focus and he listened.”

“Is that allowed?”

“Are we watching our boss get housebroken?”

You snap your head up. “I can hear you.”

They vanish.

Mikey bursts out laughing, head tipping back, eyes crinkling. The sight does something dumb to your chest.

You don’t join the gang. You don’t start hanging around all the time. But you become… a presence. An exception.

And Toman, bizarrely, gets used to it.

------

A week later, you’re back in class, project presentation looming.

You’re at your desk, flipping through index cards, when one of your classmates, Tanaka, you think his name is, eternally smug, sidles up to you.

“Hey,” he says, sliding his hands into his pockets. “How’s it going with Sano?”

You don’t look up. “Fine.”

“He even shows up for you,” Tanaka says with a laugh. “That’s impressive.”

There’s something in his tone you don’t like.

You hum noncommittally.

“He’s not actually doing anything, though, right?” Tanaka continues. “I mean, you’re obviously carrying the whole thing. He’s just… there.”

You pause.

Your pen freezes mid-word.

Slowly, you look up.

“What?”

Tanaka shrugs, careless. “It’s Mikey. He doesn’t do schoolwork. Honestly, sensei should’ve just given you a new partner.”

Anger sparks, hot and automatic.

You think of Mikey squinting at paragraphs in the library. Mikey connecting economic reform to gang turf like it’s the most natural comparison in the world. Mikey actually trying because you asked him to.

You narrow your eyes. “He’s doing his part. We both are.”

Tanaka snorts. “Sure. Look, it’s not a big deal. Some people just aren’t cut out for this stuff. Delinquents like that? They’re just dead weight in class.”

You’re halfway to standing when a shadow falls over your desk.

“Say that again.”

Mikey’s voice is quiet.

Too quiet.

You glance up.

He’s standing behind Tanaka, hands in his pockets, eyes half-lidded but sharp. The energy around him has shifted, still, but dangerous, like the air before a storm.

Tanaka stiffens. “M-Mikey-”

“I said,” Mikey repeats calmly, “say that again. About me being dead weight.”

Tanaka swallows. “I-I just meant-”

“And about my partner,” Mikey adds, tilting his head, smile not reaching his eyes. “Say that part again.”

The room has gone silent. Everyone is watching now.

You stand quickly, stepping between them before this becomes a disciplinary hearing… or a funeral.

“Mikey,” you say, lightly pushing at his chest. “It’s fine.”

He looks at you, expression shifting, the hard edge softening immediately.

“Is it?” he asks.

“Yes,” you say firmly. “Because we’re going to get a better score than him anyway. Right?”

You hold his gaze, willing him to drop it.

There’s a beat of tense silence.

Then Mikey smiles again, genuinely this time. “Right.”

He looks over your head at Tanaka, expression mild but eyes still icy.

“You heard her,” he says. “We’re gonna beat you. So maybe focus on your own project and stop talking shit about mine.”

Tanaka bobbles his head in a frantic nod and retreats like his life depends on it.

You exhale slowly.

Mikey watches Tanaka go, then looks back at you. “You okay?”

You blink. “I should be asking you that.”

He snorts. “That guy’s annoying, but I don’t care what he says about me.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Then why did you get mad?”

At you, the smile turns softer. “He doesn’t get to talk about you like that.”

Something in your chest flips over.

You look away fast, shoving your notebook into your bag with more force than necessary. “Whatever. Just… don’t start a fight over me.”

He hums thoughtfully. “What if I finish a fight over you?”

“Mikey.”

“I’m kidding,” he says, laughing. Then, quieter, “Kind of.”

You should be exasperated.

You are.

You’re also weirdly, stupidly touched.

------

You’re at Draken’s shop again.

It’s late, the sky outside fading into navy, streetlights flickering on one by one. The shop smells like oil and metal and something faintly sweet from the bakery down the road.

The others have cleared out already, leaving you, Mikey, and Draken.

You’re hunched over the workbench, index cards spread out, scribbling last-minute notes. Mikey is perched on a stool, swinging his legs, reciting his part of the presentation under his breath.

“Post-war reforms… aimed to decentralize economic power and-”

“-and weaken the Zaibatsu conglomerates,” you prompt.

He snaps his fingers. “Right. Those guys.”

“You’re getting it,” you say, genuinely impressed.

“Only ‘cause my teacher’s so scary,” he says lightly.

“I’m not your teacher.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Draken walks by, towel over his shoulder. “He giving you trouble?”

“No more than usual,” you say.

“Hey,” Mikey protests.

Draken chuckles, ruffling his hair. “Can’t believe you got him to study. You’re a miracle worker.”

You shrug, pretending that doesn’t make you a little proud. “Bribery helps.”

Mikey grins. “She makes really good snacks.”

“Is that so?” Draken looks intrigued. “You bringing any next time?”

“There’s not going to be a next time,” you say quickly. “The project is tomorrow.”

Both of them look at you.

Mikey’s smile falters just a fraction.

“Oh,” he says.

You blink. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says, waving it off. “Just thought we’d keep… y’know. Hanging out.”

Your heart does a weird, wobbly thing.

You look down at your cards. “We can still hang out. It doesn’t have to be for a project.”

The silence that follows feels heavier than it should.

When you peek up, Mikey is staring at you with a look you haven’t seen before, something open and almost vulnerable.

“…Yeah?” he asks quietly.

You swallow. “Yeah.”

The corner of his mouth lifts slowly, like the sun rising. “Then I’ll do extra good tomorrow.”

You snort. “That’s not how that works.”

“Sure it is,” he says. “If I do good, sensei won’t yell, and you’ll be in a good mood, and then you’ll wanna see me again.”

“You’re so sure of yourself.”

“Aren’t I right?”

You want to say no.

You don’t.

Instead, you shake your head and shove your stack of cards at him. “Again. From the top.”

He groans dramatically, but obeys.

As he stumbles through the first sentence, you catch Draken watching the two of you from across the room, a knowing little half-smile on his face.

You ignore him.

Or try to.

------

You’re packing up later when you realize you’ve been at the shop for hours.

You stretch, your spine popping, and wince. “Ow.”

“You okay?” Mikey asks.

“Just stiff,” you say. “Too much sitting.”

“Here,” he says.

Before you can ask what he’s doing, he steps behind you and places his hands gently on your shoulders. His thumbs press into the muscles at the base of your neck, kneading.

You go rigid.

“Mikey, what are you-”

“Relax,” he says softly. “Just a bit.”

You consider protesting. You really do.

Then his thumbs find a knot and press just right, and your eyes flutter shut against your will.

“See?” he murmurs. “You work too hard.”

“You study too little,” you mumble.

He laughs quietly, warm breath brushing your ear. “We balance each other out.”

It’s alarmingly intimate, standing here in the quiet of the shop with his hands on you, his chest a solid presence at your back. Your heartbeat picks up, loud in your own ears.

“Okay,” you say abruptly, stepping forward out of his hold. “That’s enough. We should go. It’s late.”

He lets his hands drop but doesn’t look offended. If anything, his smile turns softer. “I’ll walk you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” he says simply.

You sigh, defeated. “Fine.”

You walk side by side under the streetlights, shadows stretching long behind you. The night is cool, city noises distant.

“So,” he says eventually, hands clasped behind his head, eyes on the sky. “What are you gonna do after this project? Keep being top of the class? Get some fancy job?”

“Maybe,” you say. “I just… want options. I don’t want to be stuck.”

He hums thoughtfully. “Makes sense.”

“What about you?” you ask, curious. “You ever think about that? Your future?”

He shrugs. “Not really. I’ll take care of Toman. Take care of everyone. That’s enough for me.”

You look at him.

His profile is lit by the streetlamp, lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. He looks younger like this, softer, but there’s a weight in his eyes that’s older than either of you.

“You’re already taking care of everyone,” you say quietly.

He glances at you, surprised, then smiles. “Yeah. Guess so.”

You reach your building too soon.

He stops at the bottom of the steps, rocking on his heels. “So. Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” you echo. “Don’t be late.”

He puts a hand to his heart. “I’d never.”

You give him a look.

He laughs, waves, and turns away.

You watch his back grow smaller down the street, oddly reluctant to go inside.

You only move when he glances back once, catches you still staring, and grins.

You absolutely do not slam the door quickly after that.

-----

You’re nervous.

You’ll never admit it out loud, but your fingers fidget with the edge of your index cards as groups go up one by one. Your leg bounces under the desk.

Mikey, on the other hand, looks… relaxed.

Too relaxed.

He’s leaning back in his seat, arms crossed behind his head, eyes half-closed like he’s about to nap.

“Mikey,” you hiss. “Stay awake.”

“M’awake,” he mumbles.

You jab him in the arm with your pen. “Our turn is next.”

He cracks one eye open, looks at you, and smiles. “Don’t worry. I got this.”

You do not feel less worried.

“Next group,” sensei calls, looking at his list. “Sano and (Last Name).”

You stand, smoothing your uniform, heart thudding.

Mikey ambles up beside you, hands in his pockets, completely unbothered. When you reach the front, he casually leans down and mutters, “Hey.”

“What,” you whisper back.

“If I mess up,” he says with a grin, “you’ll fix it, right?”

You roll your eyes. “Just read the cards.”

He laughs and turns to the class.

You start.

You introduce your topic, voice more steady than you feel. You’ve done this a hundred times in your head, practiced your lines, your pauses. It comes easily.

Then it’s Mikey’s turn.

He takes his card.

Your heart stops.

He looks at it.

Then looks up.

There’s a beat where you’re terrified he’s going to say something completely off-topic. Or blank. Or walk out.

Instead, he says, clear and confident:

“One of the major goals of the post-war economic reforms was to break up the power of the zaibatsu, big corporations that controlled a lot of Japan’s economy before the war.”

The class blinks.

He continues, warming up.

“By doing this, the government wanted to stop too much power from being in the hands of a few families. That way, more people could compete in the market, and the economy would be more stable.”

He glances at you.

You nod subtly.

He relaxes, shoulders loosening.

“It’s kinda like… if one gang controlled all the turf in Tokyo,” he goes on, casual but surprisingly articulate. “It looks strong, but if anything happens to that one gang, everything falls apart. But if there are more groups, spread out, the whole thing doesn’t crumble so easy.”

There’s a ripple of laughter around the room, but not mocking. Intrigued.

You hide a smile.

He just did what you’ve been doing for days, connected it to his world, his rules, so it makes sense.

You finish the final part of the presentation together. He doesn’t freeze once. When he falters, you pick up the sentence. When you blank for a moment, he jumps in with an example. It’s… smooth.

It’s weird how easy it is to talk when he’s next to you.

At the end, there’s a small pause.

Then, unexpectedly, your classmates start clapping.

Not just polite taps.

Actual, impressed applause.

Your teacher looks like he might cry again.

“T-that was very good,” he says, visibly moved. “Clear, engaging, excellent use of examples. I’m… pleasantly surprised.”

Mikey beams.

You exhale, tension draining out of your shoulders.

You catch Tanaka’s expression in the back, sour and begrudgingly impressed, and fight the urge to smirk at him.

You and Mikey return to your seats. Your legs feel a little wobbly.

“That was fun,” Mikey whispers once you’re seated.

“You’re insane,” you whisper back. “You just freestyled half of that.”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

You can’t argue with that.

When grades are posted later, you see it.

Top score.

You stare at the number for a full five seconds.

Then, involuntarily, you grin.

A hand appears next to yours, ruffling your hair from behind.

“See?” Mikey crows. “Told you we’d beat that guy.”

You swat his hand away, but you’re still smiling. “You did good.”

“You sound surprised.”

“I am,” you say honestly. “In a good way.”

He tilts his head, eyes crinkling. “Then I’m happy.”

You look up at him, about to say something more, something like you really tried or thank you, but sensei shuffles by then, clearing his throat.

“Sano,” he says, hesitant. “I, ah. I hope to see more of this… effort from you. In the future.”

Mikey scratches his cheek. “No promises, sensei.”

Your teacher deflates.

“But,” Mikey adds, glancing at you, “I might show up sometimes. If my partner’s here.”

Sensei blinks.

You choke. “I’m not your-”

“Thank you for your hard work,” sensei says to you quickly, like you’re the only thing standing between his sanity and collapse. “Truly. You’ve done a great job.”

You bow politely, murmuring a thank you, and then you’re dragged away by Mikey’s hand on your sleeve.

-----

You end up outside the school gate without really meaning to. One moment you’re packing your bag, the next you’re being herded along by Mikey’s unstoppable momentum.

He finally stops under a tree just beyond the gate, where the street is quieter. The afternoon sun filters through the leaves, dappling his face with light.

“So,” he says.

“So,” you echo.

He rocks on his heels, hands in his pockets, looking at you with a brightness that makes your chest warm. “We make a pretty good team.”

Your lips twitch. “Apparently.”

“Top score,” he reminds you.

“I can read.”

He laughs.

Then, suddenly, he sobers a little.

“Hey,” he says, shifting his weight. “You know how you came to get your partner back from the dead?”

“He wasn’t dead, just truant.”

“Same thing,” he says with a shrug. “Anyway. I was thinking.”

You cross your arms. “Dangerous.”

He ignores that. “I don’t really care about school stuff. You know that.”

“I picked up on it, yeah.”

“But.” He pauses, looking at you. Really looking. “I liked this. Doing something with you. Building it together. Watching you get all serious and bossy.”

You feel your face heat. “That’s not-”

“It is,” he insists, grin tugging at his lips, then softens. “You worked really hard. For both of us. No one’s ever done that for me. Not like that.”

You blink.

Something in your chest squeezes painfully.

“You’re important to me,” he says simply. “So I was thinking…”

He steps closer.

Your back bumps lightly against the tree trunk. You didn’t even realize you’d moved.

He’s close now, close enough that you can see the flecks of brown in his dark eyes, the way his lashes cast little shadows. His smile is smaller, more genuine than the lazy grins he shows everyone else.

“…You should keep being my partner,” he finishes.

You swallow. “For… school?”

“For everything,” he says, without missing a beat.

Your heart stutters.

“Mikey-”

“I mean,” he goes on, eyes darting briefly to your mouth before snapping back up, “you can yell at me when I skip class. Drag me to the library. Make me snacks. I’ll walk you home. Scare off annoying guys. You know. Partner stuff.”

“That’s not what partner stuff means,” you say weakly.

He hums. “It is if I say so.”

You stare at him.

The worst part is that he sounds… sincere. Like in his own skewed, simple way, this is how he says I want you around and I like you and don’t go anywhere.

Your throat feels tight all of a sudden.

“You’re ridiculous,” you say, but it comes out softer than you intend.

He leans in just a fraction more, eyes flicking over your face. “Is that a no?”

You hesitate.

You think about the first day, staring at that cursed partner list, cursing whatever fate married your grade to a delinquent myth. You think about the parking lot, the shrine, the Toman hangout. About textbooks and dorayaki and late-night walks home.

About the way he stood between you and a rude classmate like it was nothing.

About the way he looked when he thought you might not want to see him after the project.

You exhale.

“It’s…” You lick your lips, nerves crackling under your skin. “It’s a maybe.”

He grins, bright and unstoppable. “I can work with maybe.”

“I didn’t say yes.”

“You didn’t say no,” he counters.

You open your mouth, then close it.

He laughs, delighted, and in that moment, caught between annoyance and fondness, you slip.

“If you want me to keep being your partner,” you say, trying to sound stern and failing, “you have to promise to show up. At least sometimes. I refuse to be seen as the person dating a ghost.”

You freeze.

He freezes.

You replay your own words in your head.

Dating.

You want to sink into the ground.

Mikey’s smile does something oddly slow. It softens, widens, shifts into something you’ve never quite seen on him before, something almost reverent.

“Dating, huh?” he says, voice a little hoarse with poorly concealed glee. “You thinking that far already?”

“I- That’s not what I meant-”

He steps even closer, bracing one hand against the tree trunk near your head, caging you in without touching. His face is only inches from yours now.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “Look at me.”

You do, helplessly.

His gaze is steady. His voice drops.

“If we were dating,” he says slowly, “would you let me do this?”

He leans in, close enough that his forehead brushes yours, that you can feel his breath fan across your lips. He doesn’t close the distance completely. Just hovers there, waiting, asking.

Your heart is pounding so hard you’re sure he can feel it.

You could push him away.

You don’t.

“…Maybe,” you whisper.

His eyes flicker, satisfaction flashing through them.

Then he pulls back half an inch and taps your forehead gently with his own, like a soft little headbutt.

“Okay,” he says, and somehow his smile is even warmer. “I’ll earn it.”

“You… what?”

“The right to do more ‘dating stuff,’” he says matter-of-factly. “If my partner wants it.”

You’re certain your brain has melted.

He straightens up finally, hands sliding back into his pockets, expression turning playful again.

“Until then,” he says, voice light, “I’ll settle for this.”

He reaches down and takes your hand.

Your fingers slot into his like they’ve done it a thousand times before.

Your brain short-circuits again.

“Mikey-”

“Walk me home,” he says with a grin. “Partner.”

You should say that’s backwards.

You don’t.

“okay so… this is called a high kick.” mikey says as he demonstrates it, flashing a grin to the camera. the next few minutes were spent with him showing the camera all the kicks and moves he knows from the dojo.

“and finally… this is my special nuclear kick, as kazutora would like to call it– wait! let’s get a better view.” he says before he lowers the camera. “there.”

“in three… two… one…—oh oops!”

your boyfriend accidentally kicked the camera off the table.

the impact caused the tempered glass to shatter and the noise caused you to run back inside.

“what happened?!” you asked as you assessed the situation, mikey only gave you a sheepish yet guilty smile. “they couldn’t handle me…”

commenter: it started well until he knocked me tf out ⅖ will not babysit again, the kicks were cool tho.

commenter: bro struggled with placing us on a higher place but he’s a cutie patootie so i’ll give him that.

chifuyu:

“i’m gonna take a walk, watch my boyfriend for me.” you say to the camera before placing it in front of chifuyu who was combing peke j’s fur.

“baby? where are you—” “i’ll see you in a bit, baby! be nice.” you cut him off, closing the door shut.

“uh…” chifuyu didn’t know what to do. is this a new tiktok trend? are you messing with him? is the camera even— yep, it was recording.

“hi so uh.” chifuyu coughs. “my name is chifuyu, i’m (y/n)’s boyfriend.” he awkwardly introduces himself, green eyes fluttering back to the front door, silently hoping for you to walk back in.

after a few seconds and no sign of you, he refocuses back to the camera and raises peke j in view. “this is my cat.”

“his name is peke j.” he grabs one of peke j’s paws and waved it to the camera, making a small meowing sound as he does so. “he’s saying hi too!” chifuyu grins before he laughs at his cringe.

“what the hell am i even doing.” he says before petting peke j’s head and running over his scar. an idea suddenly coming to his head.

“so… my mom didn’t want peke j at first. i had to hide him in my hoodie when i was 12 just so i could keep him…”

you came back to chifuyu talking animatedly to the camera, a big smile on his face as he pets his cat.

“oh, baby! you’re here.” chifuyu notices you immediately before he pats the space beside him. “i was just telling them how peke j was the reason how you and i met!”

the two of you talked to the camera until your phone notified that there was no more storage. you should really clean up your gallery, stop procrastinating.

commenter: HE’S SO ORANGE CAT CODED

commenter: his lil cat adoption story was so sweet pls make a part 2!!

rindou:

your boyfriend was in his homemade gym room doing his sets when you placed the phone on the tripod that you set up in the room. rindou sets down his dumbbells as he looks at you with a raised brow.

you say nothing to him before you start recording, “make sure my boyfriend doesn’t hurt himself, thanks!” you say to the camera before you bolted out the room before rindou could say a word in.

rindou sighs as he gets up from his bench press, all sweaty and gross as he approaches the camera. he rolls his eyes once he realizes that the camera was recording. nevertheless, he returns back to his sets, grunting heavily every time he finishes parts of his routine.

you came back to see your boyfriend doing push-ups, a circular weight on his back and his biceps flexing everytime he pushes down.

“really?” you asked and rindou pauses mid push-up to look at you with a confused gaze.

“you’re being all slutty and sweaty for my camera?” you cross your arms, a deadpan expression on your face, rindou kneels from his position and gives you a look of disbelief.

“you’re the one who started recording! i’m just doing my normal routine.” you scoff.

“then why’d you have to look like a whore doing it!”

“excuse me?”

commenter: bro groans like a good boy

commenter: excuse me sir that groan? what happened to hi and hello?

(rindou had to make a follow up video explaining that he was taken AND he does NOT take it like a good boy.)

baji:

“i’m going to get the food outside, can you watch him for me?” you say, shoving the phone to baji’s face before running away. the action causes baji to jolt up from the couch and gripping the phone to stop it from falling in his grasp.

“oi, what the—” “oh, and no swearing, keisuke! we don’t want to get flagged.” you say before running out the door.

“huh?” it was only then baji realized that the phone was on a livestream and there are dozens of comments squealing over him.

“i’m so fu–darn hungry, (y/n)’s taking so long” he groans

“what am i supposed to do with this?” baji asks the chat and one comment in particular caught his eye.

“that’s a great idea, kazutora” he smiles ominously.

the next thing you knew was chifuyu calling baji’s phone. you picked it up and before you could even get a word in, you can hear chifuyu’s panicked voice.

“(y/n)! baji’s about to commit arson in your backyard!”

“he’s about to what?!”

commenter: 2/10 will not babysit again, he looks like he bites

commenter: 1/10. he scares me

kazutora:

“hey, babysit my boyfriend for me? thanks!” that was said with no context as kazutora finds himself facing the front camera of your phone. he stiffens up, not used to looking at himself much.

he awkwardly reaches for his bowl of cereal, eyes hyper focused on the camera as he scoops the spoon into the bowl.

“uh… hi.” he waves awkwardly, trying to watch the series that was on tv but he still couldn’t feel comfortable with the camera pointed at him so he turns the tv off.

“so uh… i’m eating a bowl of cocoa puffs.” kazutora says, showing the camera his meal, “they’re really good. it tastes like cocoa… i mean obviously– anyway!”

kazutora coughs. a blush forming on his cheeks on how awkward the entire situation is.

“so uhm. cats are cool.” he starts. “did you know that the calico cats were brought in japanese voyages because sailors thought they brought good luck?”

“it’s uhm. a pretty cool fact if i do say so myself.” silence.

“uh a cat was also mayor in an alaskan town for 20 years so there’s that.”

“oh! also, did you know that isaac newton invented the cat door?”

commenter: 5/5 he’s a lil awkward but his cat facts are so cute

commenter: 4/5 did not know about these cat facts and ill change my rating to 5/5 if we get more cat facts

sanzu:

“watch haru for me, thanks. he’s your problem now.” you say as you plop the phone in front of sanzu’s desktop.

“babe, what the hell?”

“careful, chat, he bites.” with that, you turned on your heel and left.

sanzu looks at the livestream and realizes that everyone was either thirsting for him or asking when your next shared content will come out.

“i’m in the middle of editing the video when that headache forced you to babysit me” sanzu said, shaking his head. “i do have one with senju coming out tomorrow, we tried 1 star hair products.”

he reads a comment and shakes his head. “of course not on my hair. (y/n) loves running her fingers on it and i’d be damned if i ruined it." he says before reading more comments

“what are your hair recommendations for someone with dry hair? well first, go condition that shit…”

“your curly hair is getting frizzy? souya said to not comb it while dry but i don’t know, if you fuck it up, blame the twins. my hair is pin straight so i wouldn’t know”

“skin care? i don’t know. whatever (y/n) puts on my face— don’t you dare take me out of context.”

commenter: was expecting to babysit this babygirl but got great skincare and haircare advice

commenter: apparently i was using the wrong toner, thanks for the help 5/5 will babysit again.

ran (bonus):

did not need any babysitting, was just asleep.

commenter: bro’s snoring

commenter: hes meditating guys

commenter: he’s died

“Your girl…” one of the guards finally spoke, “..is here.”

Rindou wasn’t surprised to hear that you were there because you visited him regularly, but today wasn’t a visit day. Plus, it’s past midnight so what business would you have being there at a time like this?

Rindou is left puzzled and all he can do is just scratch his head. “I—, uh.. seriously?”

“I’m willing to risk my job and put aside our differences for her sake.” One of the guards said, “she’s a good gal and seems very genuine about her feelings.”

Rindou softly smiled, but then he sighed, “where is she now?”

Both of the guards looked at each other then back at Rindou, “put on the cuffs and we’ll take you to her..”

Rindou wasted no time putting his hands together and allowing them to handcuff him. He wanted to see more than anything so he’ll put up with the restraints if necessary. After they secured the cuffs, Rindou left his cell with one guard behind him and the other in front of him walking.

It was rather quiet. Rindou was wondering if Ran and the others were still up… well, he doesn’t know about the others, but he’s positive that Ran is sound asleep. Even whilst locked up he takes his sleep seriously.

Rindou chuckled at the thought of his brother and the guard behind him noticed. “Haitani,” They spoke, “this stays between us three, got it?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Rindou was brought in front of a door. He’s never even seen this door or this side of the prison before. One of the guards unlocked the heavy door, opening it and revealing you inside of the room, seemingly waiting for something or someone.

You looked towards the door and a smile curled up on your pretty face. “Rinnnn!” You ran towards him with a cheery tone. “Thank you so much for bringing him!” You bowed to the guards with gratitude. The guards couldn’t help but feel a soft spot for you, they also bowed feeling as if that was the right thing to do.

Finally, one of the guards took the handcuffs off of Rindou, freeing his hands from the confinement. They then pushed Rindou inside of the room and you wasted no time wrapping your arms around him and hugging him tightly and Rindou wrapped his arms around you as well. His large hands roaming your body until he squeezed the fat of your ass, causing you to squeal in his chest.

“You haven’t touched me in months and my ass is the first thing you touch? You’re such a perv.” You rolled your eyes as Rindou continued squeezing your ass.

“Can’t help it, bae. I miss your ass.. and I miss you too, you know.” Rindou chuckled lowly, teasing you by nibbling on your earlobe.

One of the guards cleared their throat, “you two lovebirds have one hour, tops.” They said as they walked back outside, “we’ll be outside the door if you need us.” They said, mainly talking to you more than Rindou. They closed the door and locked it and as soon as you heard that clicking sound, you wasted no time pouncing on your lover, having him to fall backwards onto the floor with you kissing him.

“Woah, wait.. slow down!” Rindou says. His words went on deaf ears as you began pulling off your blouse and undoing your bra.

“We don’t have all the time in the world, Rin.” You say, your fingers unbuttoning his jailhouse uniform shirt and your long nails tracing over his exposed tattooed chest.

“Pull your panties off and keep your skirt on,” Rindou says, smirking, “I want to keep ‘em for hard times.”

You did as he said and began pulling off your panties. “Don’t go showing off my panties to those other guys, either! You’ll have enough evidence throughout your entire body when I’m done with you..” you cheerily say.

“Oh, yeah..?”

“Yeah..” you grabbed Rindou’s face and started kissing him again, biting and tugging on his bottom lip.

He suddenly broke away from the kiss, grabbing your breasts with his calloused hands and squeezing them. “I miss these too.. been awhile since they’ve had a good squeezin'.” he says, biting down on your nipple and earning a quiet moan from you. All you could do was rub his scalp as he sucked and licked on your plump flesh.

After a while of that, he pushed you onto your back and spread your legs. Your slit was already glistening with your slick, making him lick his lips.

“Don’t look.” You covered your eyes and face, still embarrassed even after being with him for so long.

“Heh, what princess..?” Rindou asked, pulling your hands down from your face. “It’s okay ‘cuz it’s hot. You’re hot.”

You gave him a soft smile from his words. He could feel his dick twitching just from the sight before him — damnit, you’re so cute.. he just wants to devour you whole.

He spreads your legs even further apart and goes down on you, earning a gasp from you as you felt his warm tongue embrace your clit. It felt heavenly — so heavenly, that you started to shake already from him repeatedly licking your clit. He started to suck on the bundle of nerve, causing you to arch your back off the floor and yank on his locks. He doesn’t mind the pain, as long as he knew he was pleasuring you to the fullest.

“Rinnn, wait! I’m about to— haah!” Pleasure washes over your body as you squirt all on his face and embarrassment soon floods you after realizing what you’ve just done. “Oh no, I’m so sorry!” You said, covering your face once more with your hands but all Rindou could do was chuckle.

“You’re so cute, you know that?” He removes your hands from your face and smiles at you while your mess is on his face. “I told you it’s fine ‘cuz it’s hot, didn’t I?” He asks, and you nod your head. He leans forward to kiss you on your lips, “my pretty girl..” he mumbled into your mouth as he kissed you.

“Does my pretty girl think she can ride me?” He asks and you nod your head with a smile, pushing him onto his back and climbing on top of him. You help pull down his pants, revealing his hard cock with an angry tip.

“Heh, he misses you, babe.” Rindou says, chuckling and immediately hissing when your cool hands touched it. Stroking it and massaging the tip with your thumb.

“I miss him too.. so much.” You respond, kissing and giving subtle licks to his tip, but he stops you before you go any further. “As much as I want to feel your mouth, I highly doubt we’ll have time for all of that.” He says and you frown, “but I promise you’ll have the opportunity when I’m out of here and you can do it for as long as you want.”

“Okay..” you say, giving his tip one last kiss before finally sinking down onto it… Rindou was huge and sometimes you had a hard time taking him without the right amount of prep. “So.. so big..” you mumbled softly.

“Guess eating you out wasn’t enough, huh?”

“Hngh— you think..?”

“Want my help orrrr do you got it?”

“I— I got it!” You said, moving your hips slowly back and forth then up and down. Your breast was bouncing to the rhythm of your movements, but you felt like you were being split in half — that burning sensation in your core felt so strong and yet so good; you knew you’d be cummin soon.

“Fuck, you’re so warm ‘n tight! Shit!” Rindou hissed, cummin as you rode him. Squelching sounds along with your moans soon echoed throughout the room. Rindou was on the verge of cummin once more if you kept riding him the way you were. Rindou placed his thumb on your clit which made you almost lose it, your thighs trembling in the process.

You leaned forward to kiss your boyfriend, and place hickies all over his neck. Rindou grabbed your hips and lifted you up and down whilst you kissed him, causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head. “Ohhh, Rin baby!” You moaned, skin to skin friction filling the room.

Rindou finally slammed you back down on his cock, busting his load deep inside of you. You could feel the warmth of his seed filling you up good and nice.

Just then, the guards knocked on the door from the outside. “Wrap it up! You’ve got five minutes left.”

You fell on top of Rindou, your breast smashing against his chest and his dick inside of you, still hard and all. He was breathing heavily and suddenly broke out in a laugh, “wish we could stay like this til morning.” He said, removing sweat from your forehead.

“Technically, it is morning..” you whispered.

“You know what I mean.” He chuckled, “I’ma miss you, pretty girl.”

“I’ma miss you too, daddy.”

“Oh, fuck off..” he laughed, “what I told you about calling me that?”

“Whaaaat? It’s cute!” You giggled, kissing Rindou on the cheek. “Be nice to those guards out there, okay?”

“Guess I have no choice, but to be nice to ‘em.” Rindou rolled his eyes and looked at you for a second before letting out a soft laugh.

Hours have passed since he was last with you and Rindou was outside in the yard working out with his shirt off, showing off the hickies and chest scratches you left behind… nobody dared to ask where he got those marks from except for the people he came in with.

“Uh..” Shion gulped, “where the fuck did you get those marks from? Those look like hickies, man!” Shion asked, with the rest of them listening closely to what Rindou was about to say, though, Ran had a pretty good idea where you could’ve gotten them from, but he didn’t ask a single question about it.

Rindou lifted himself off the bench where he was lifting weights and looked Shion directly in his face. “I dunno what you’re talking about.” He said, walking away from an even more confused Shion who couldn’t believe Rindou was playing this type of game.