Cieal

Fandom: Ultraman Mebius

It started as a joke.

When Mirai ended up in the GUYS infirmary after the last battle, the room still smelling faintly of antiseptic and burnt circuitry, he and Ryu found themselves alone for a brief moment before the others crowded in.

Their eyes met.

There was something there — not dramatic, not obvious — just a quiet glint that lingered half a second too long.

Everyone in GUYS knew they were close. Captain Serizawa had once called them “in sync.” Marina called them “hopelessly predictable.” George called them “a packaged deal.”

But George was also the first to gasp, hand flying to his mouth in exaggerated shock.

“Wait,” he blurted, grinning. “You two have that kind of relationship? I mean good for you! I’ll support it!”

Mirai’s face went red so fast it rivaled Mebius’s color timer. “G-George!”

Did he really like Ryu like that?

The thought alone made his chest feel tight.

He couldn’t. He shouldn’t.

He was Ultraman Mebius. A soldier from the Land of Light

. His mission on Earth was temporary. One day he would have to go back.

And Ryu… Ryu was human.

The others drifted back toward the main area, laughing and teasing, leaving Ryu behind.

George wasn’t done.

“Oh, come on,” he insisted as they walked. “Did you not see the way they looked at each other?”

Marina rolled her eyes. “You’re also the guy who offers a rose to any woman who smiles at you.”

The team snickered.

George dug dramatically into his pockets and slapped a small pile of coins into his palm. “I’m starting a bet. ¥775.37 says they kiss before Mirai’s discharged.”

Konomi tilted her head. “Even if they were in love… it’s not really our business.”

Still, no one explicitly refused.

Inside the infirmary, Mirai lay against the pillow, staring at the ceiling.

Ryu stood beside the bed, jaw tight, hand wrapped firmly around Mirai’s.

Ryu had known for a while now. He knew Mirai was Ultraman Mebius. The shock of that revelation had long since been replaced by something steadier fierce loyalty, and something deeper he hadn’t named.

Mirai laughed softly. “Sorry. I couldn’t be strong.”

Ryu’s grip tightened.

“You don’t need to be strong all the time,” he said, voice low and firm. “You may be an Ultraman. But Ultramen need to take care of themselves too.”

Mirai turned his head slightly, eyes soft.

“…Thank you, Ryu.”

For the rest of the week, the team rotated through visits. George brought snacks. Marina brought reports he pretended not to want. Konomi brought quiet company and fresh flowers.

Mirai recovered quickly. Thankfully, no kaiju attacks demanded Mebius’s strength during that time.

When he returned to duty, things felt almost normal.

Almost.

They worked side by side as always launching from the hangar, running simulations, standing shoulder to shoulder in the command room.

But sometimes their hands brushed when reaching for the same tablet.

Sometimes their glances lingered.

Sometimes they both looked away at the exact same time.

The others noticed.

One afternoon, when Mirai and Ryu were out on patrol, Marina slammed her palm onto the central console.

“Fine. I’ll add ¥155.07.”

George lit up. “Excellent. Anyone else want in on the ‘When Will They Finally Kiss’ pool?”

This time, no one walked away.

George dragged a whiteboard into the center of the operations room with dramatic flair.

“Alright,” he declared, writing in bold letters:

OPERATION: FIRST KISS

Marina pinched the bridge of her nose. “You are unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably right,” George corrected. He began drawing columns. “Location. Initiator. Witnesses. Timeframe.”

Konomi hesitated then stepped forward.

“…Rooftop,” she said softly.

George blinked. “You’re contributing?”

Konomi folded her hands behind her back. “They both go there when they’re thinking. It feels… important.”

Marina narrowed her eyes slightly. “You’ve been observing.”

Konomi’s cheeks turned pink. “I just want them to be happy.”

That quiet sincerity shifted something in the room.

George quickly scribbled:

* Rooftop – ¥500

* Initiator: Ryu – ¥300

* Initiator: Mirai – ¥200

Marina added under Mirai’s name, in smaller writing:
Don’t underestimate him.

above them, it was quiet on the rooftop.

The rooftop air was cool.

The city lights shimmered below, the sky stretching endlessly above.

“The stars are pretty, aren’t they?” Mirai said softly, leaning against the railing.

Ryu looked up, then at him.

“…Yeah. But aren’t you eventually going to leave us?”

The question wasn’t accusatory.

It was afraid.

Mirai’s smile faltered just slightly. “I kind of have

to. Once my mission is done.” He clasped his hands together. “But maybe… maybe I can ask to visit. Every now and then.”

Ryu didn’t respond right away.

The wind shifted.

Mirai’s fingertips brushed against Ryu’s.

Soft.

Warm against the breeze of the night.

They both froze.

Neither pulled away.

Ryu cleared his throat first, eyes fixed stubbornly on the stars instead of Mirai. “You don’t have to go alone when you leave.”

Mirai blinked. “Ryu…?”

“I mean,” Ryu corrected gruffly, jaw tightening, “we’ll send you off properly. As a team.”

It wasn’t what he meant.

But it was what he could say.

Mirai smiled - small, grateful, carrying a quiet sadness beneath it.

“…Thank you.”

Below them, George circled ROOFTOP three times on the board and added in dramatic block letters:

TENSION LEVEL: CRITICAL

Marina shook her head, though she didn’t erase it.

Konomi glanced toward the ceiling, toward the rooftop above them.

Neither Mirai nor Ryu knew.

They didn’t know about the growing pool of coins in George’s locker.

They didn’t know about the probability charts.

They didn’t know that their team was quietly, stubbornly rooting for them.

Up on the rooftop, the two of them stood shoulder to shoulder, staring at the same sky.

Both of them knew one day they would have to separate.

Fandom: Kamen Rider Blade

Pairing Kenhaji

TokuShipping week day 4- Role swap

Link :

-

Here’s some background information for this au.

Kenzaki Kazuma

Alias: Kamen Rider Chalice

Species: Undead (Joker)

Age: 22

A tall, quiet, and somewhat mysterious young man with a gentle disposition. Though he is not human, he deeply loves humanity and wishes more than anything to become human himself. Ever since the Human Undead possessed him, he has been searching for a way to live as one of them not merely protecting humanity, but belonging to it.

He lives with Kotarou and Hirose at the café, helping out when he can. To him, they are family the first place he has ever truly felt at home. Despite his calm and kind exterior, there is always a quiet distance in him, a reminder that he is something other.

He does not begin on good terms with Aikawa Hajime, but over time their relationship deepens into something far more complicated than friendship.

As Kamen Rider Chalice, his appearance is predominantly black with blue accents, bearing a praying mantis design and a heart motif.

Aikawa Hajime

Alias: Kamen Rider Blade

Species: Human

Age: 23

A reserved and emotionally guarded man who works for Board. He speaks little and keeps others at arm’s length, preferring the quiet company of his camera. Photography is both his hobby and his way of preserving moments he does not want to lose.

He lives with his coworker, Kurihara Haruka, and her daughter Amane after Haruka’s husband died in a Board-related accident. Though cold and distant with most people, he is noticeably gentler with Haruka and especially Amane, acting as a protective older brother — or even a father figure — to her.

He initially finds Kenzaki irritating and makes deliberate efforts to push him away. However, as they grow closer, Hajime discovers Kenzaki’s secret: he is the Joker Undead, the very one Board’s intern, Mutsuki, is desperate to seal. Faced with this truth, Hajime makes a quiet but firm decision to protect Kenzaki — even if it conflicts with his duty.

Though he refuses to admit it, his feelings for Kenzaki have grown into something more than friendship.

As Kamen Rider Blade, he wears black and silver armor modeled after a stag beetle, marked with a spade motif.

Tachibana Sakuya

Alias: Kamen Rider Leangle

Age: 25

An overworked office employee struggling to stay afloat financially and emotionally. He possesses a strong sense of justice, but that same sincerity often leads him to trust the wrong people and land in dangerous situations.

After an especially exhausting day at work, he discovers a strange red belt on his walk home. His life changes instantly when he becomes possessed by an ancient spider entity. Soon after, mysterious men begin pursuing him, demanding the belt.

As Kamen Rider Leangle, his armor resembles a reed spider and carries a club motif.

Mutsuki Kamijo

Alias: Kamen Rider Garren

Age: 19

After graduating high school, Mutsuki was offered an internship at Board under one condition: if he helps seal all the Undead within three years, his college tuition will be fully paid. Two years in, progress has been minimal, and frustration has hardened his determination — especially when it comes to capturing the Joker Undead.

He is driven by a need to prove himself and become the strongest. After his girlfriend, Nozomi, is killed by an Undead, his resolve intensifies into something sharper and more dangerous.

He has always felt that something about Kenzaki Kazuma is off.

As Kamen Rider Garren, he appears in green armor inspired by a stag beetle with a diamond motif.

Kotarou Shirai

Age: 23

Co-owner of the café. Though he writes professionally, he mainly focuses on cookbooks. His favorite thing in the world is milk, which he treats with almost comedic reverence.

One day, while shopping for ingredients with Hirose, he found Kenzaki lying unconscious on the road. Without hesitation, he and Hirose took him in. Since then, Kenzaki has become part of their family.

Hirose Shiori

Age: 21

Owner of the café, which she inherited from her late parents. Responsible and grounded, she often plays the straight man to Kotarou’s milk obsession.

She helped take Kenzaki in and cares deeply for him, treating him as family.

Fukasawa Sayoko

Age: 25

Tachibana’s girlfriend. She worries about how overworked he is and constantly encourages him to rest and take care of himself. They enjoy solving puzzles together — though she hates when he absentmindedly chews on the pieces.

When Tachibana begins behaving strangely, her concern only grows.

Yamanaka Nozomi

Age: 19

Mutsuki’s high school sweetheart. Though small in stature, she is outspoken and never hesitates to speak her mind. She worries deeply about Mutsuki putting himself in danger.

Kurihara Haruka

Age: 32

A researcher at Board and an acquaintance of Hajime. After Hajime was evicted, she offered him a place to stay due to his difficult circumstances.

Widowed after her husband’s death in a Board lab accident, she remains calm and composed, focusing on raising her daughter while balancing her work.

Amane Kurihara

Age: 9

Bright, mischievous, and still quietly grieving her father’s death. When Hajime moves in, she quickly grows attached to him, seeing him as an older brother and sometimes even a substitute father.

His presence helps fill a space she didn’t realize she needed.

“Kotarou,” Kenzaki asked suddenly, leaning across the counter, “what does milk taste like?”

Kotarou blinked at him from behind a stack of order sheets. “Taste like? It tastes like milk.”

Kenzaki tilted his head slightly. “No, I mean… what does it feel like?”

Kotarou stared at him as if he’d just asked what gravity feels like.

“Cold? Creamy? Comforting?” he tried. “Kenzaki, are you feeling okay?”

Kenzaki straightened quickly, scratching the back of his head with a sheepish smile. He’d asked too directly again. He had to remember Kotarou and Hirose didn’t know. To them, he was just another slightly strange young man they’d taken in.

“Sorry,” Kenzaki laughed lightly. “Just curious.”

Kotarou narrowed his eyes. “You’ve had milk before.”

“Yes,” Kenzaki said gently.

But not the way you have.

Before Kotarou could question him further, the bell above the café door chimed.

Kenzaki looked up automatically.

Aikawa Hajime stepped inside, camera strap slung neatly over his shoulder, expression as unreadable as ever.

At his side, Amane bounced in with bright, restless energy that filled the quiet café instantly.

Hajime’s gaze swept the room and landed on Kenzaki.

“Where’s Hirose?”

The question was simple.

Neutral.

But something inside Kenzaki tightened sharply chest, throat, stomach.

The same suffocating pressure he felt in battle when an opponent locked onto him. Instinctive.

Immediate.

Hajime’s voice cut through his spiraling thoughts.

“I was going to ask her if I could take some photos around the café.”

The pressure vanished as quickly as it had come.

Relief flooded him, confusing and warm.

“Oh,” Kenzaki said, perhaps too quickly. “She’s out right now, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

Hajime gave a short nod. A faint smile tugged at his mouth small, restrained.

“Thank you.”

And that smile—

Kenzaki’s pulse stumbled. His heart reacted before his mind could catch up.

Hajime turned to Amane. “Order whatever you’d like.”

Amane grinned. “Really?”

“Yes.”

She skipped to the counter and ordered a simple drink. Kenzaki retreated behind the counter to prepare it, forcing his breathing to even out.

Why did it feel like that?

Why had he been relieved?

He didn’t understand it.

When he returned with the drink, Amane leaned forward conspiratorially.

“Hey, Kenzaki.”

“Hmm?” he replied gently.

She lowered her voice. “Do you have a crush on Hajime?”

Everything in him seized.

His skin flushed and worse, the faint green tint flickered beneath it before he forced it down. He turned slightly away, trying to hide it.

“N-no,” he said quickly, far too quickly. His heart pounded against his ribs like it was trying to escape. Calm down. Be still my heart.

Amane giggled. “You totally do. Want me to set you up?”

“Absolutely not!” Kenzaki hissed under his breath, covering part of his face instinctively. “And besides… I doubt he reciprocates anything like that. He probably just tolerates me.”

The words were meant to be light.

They didn’t feel light.

Amane studied him for a second longer, then shrugged and skipped off toward the window.

A few minutes later, Hajime returned to the counter.

“Can I get a cup of tea?”

“O-of course.”

Kenzaki focused very hard on pouring without spilling. He could still hear Amane’s voice echoing in his head.

Crush.

As he turned back with the tea, Hajime lifted his camera and snapped a photo.

The shutter clicked softly.

Kenzaki blinked. “You didn’t even ask.”

“I don’t need permission to photograph scenery.”

“…I’m scenery?”

Hajime adjusted the lens instead of answering.

Amane had wandered toward the front window, distracted by something outside. The café grew quieter, as if the air itself were holding its breath.

Kenzaki hesitated.

“Hajime… can I ask you something?”

A pause.

“You’re going to anyway.”

A small, almost shy smile crossed Kenzaki’s face. “What’s your favorite childhood memory?”

Hajime frowned faintly. “That’s random.”

“You remember things through photographs,” Kenzaki said softly. “So I thought… maybe there’s something you’d want to keep even without one.”

Hajime’s grip on the camera tightened almost imperceptibly.

“I don’t remember much from my childhood,” he said flatly. “And I don’t see the point in trying to.”

The finality in his tone wasn’t sharp — just closed.

Kenzaki nodded immediately. “I see.”

He didn’t push.

He never pushed.

Silence settled between them again.

Hajime studied him for a moment. “Why are you asking these things?”

Kenzaki’s fingers curled slightly against the counter.

“I’ve just been thinking,” he admitted. “Humans are shaped by small things, aren’t they? Memories. Sensations. Moments.”

“And?”

“And…” He swallowed. “If I can’t become human… I still want to understand the man I—”

He stopped.

The words hovered dangerously close to something irreversible.

Hajime’s expression shifted just slightly.

“The man you what?” he asked quietly.

Kenzaki looked down at his hands instead.

“The people important to me,” he corrected gently.

A retreat.

Hajime didn’t press.

But he didn’t look away either.

After a moment, Kenzaki reached for Hajime’s empty cup to refill it.

Their hands brushed.

Hajime’s hand was warm solid, scarred from past battles. Proof of humanity. Proof of pain.

Kenzaki’s own hand felt cold in comparison. Smooth. Wrong.

They both froze.

For a fraction of a second, neither pulled back.

Then Hajime withdrew first.

“…Your hands are cold,” he said.

Kenzaki smiled faintly. “I know.”

Hajime didn’t respond.

Later that night, in the quiet of his room, Hajime reviewed the photographs from the café.

One by one.

But he always came back to a single image.

Kenzaki Kazuma standing behind the counter, light catching in his medium colored hair, expression soft and unguarded.

Looking almost—

Human.

Hajime stared at it longer than he should have.

Was he falling for him?

The thought felt dangerous.

No.

He couldn’t.

Kenzaki was the Joker Undead.

One day, inevitably, he would have to seal him.

Hajime closed the laptop.

Fandom: Kamen Rider555

Pairing: Takumi Inui / Kiba yuuji

Toku shipping week day 3 - fight

Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/79317941

Kiba’s smile used to be warm.

It had been the kind of smile that made people trust him without question ,gentle, earnest, almost painfully sincere.

The kind of man who would stop to help a stranger, who would shoulder someone else’s burden without complaint.

Takumi remembers thinking once that Kiba was too kind for a world like this.

Now, reflected in the deep brown pupils of Takumi’s eyes, that warmth was gone.

What looks back at him is not the man who used to stand beside him in a cramped pizza shop kitchen, sleeves rolled up, laughing softly over burnt crust - even if it was just a day . Not the man who had once reached for his hand in dark water and refused to let him sink.

This man’s eyes are steady.

Empty.

Kiba had killed Kusaka.

Takumi had never liked Kusaka never trusted him, never stopped bristling at his smirk. But that wasn’t the point.

It wasn’t about Kusaka.

It was about the line Kiba had crossed.

“I’ll create a world just for the Orphnochs,” Kiba declares, voice ringing through the night air. “A world where we won’t have to hide. Where we won’t have to apologize for existing.”

Takumi exhaled slowly.

“So you finally decided,” he says.

Kiba doesn’t deny it.

The silence between them feels heavier than any accusation.

Takumi reaches into his coat and pulls out the belt.

Standing by.

The mechanical voice cuts cleanly through the tension.

“Henshin.”

Complete.

Red armor snaps into place around him, sealing away the tremor in his hands. Inside the suit, Takumi closes his eyes for half a second.

He never wanted to fight Kiba like this.

Not in this form.

Not as enemies.

But if protecting humanity means standing in front of Kiba, then so be it.

There was a time he would have followed him anywhere.

Now—

Now that man feels impossibly far away.

“Is this really the only way?” Kiba asks. His voice isn’t angry. It’s searching. “You won’t join me at all?”

Takumi lets out a short, humorless laugh.

“You’re the one who changed.”

Something flickers across Kiba’s face / hurt, maybe before it hardens.

“Then I’ll carry the Orphnochs to a brighter world,” he says quietly. “Alone.”

His human form fractures, dissolving into the imposing shape of the Horse Orphnoch. Silver armor gleams under the streetlights. The blade forms in his hand.

His eyes no longer shine.

Kiba moves first.

Steel meets steel in a violent clash, sparks scattering into the dark. Takumi barely manages to dodge the first strike, boots skidding against the pavement.

But what truly knocks the air from his lungs isn’t the force.

It’s the fact that Kiba didn’t hesitate.

“You always ran from being an Orphnoch!” Kiba’s voice echoes as their blades grind together.

“And you’re running from being human!” Takumi fires back.

“You think protecting them will save you?”

“You think destroying them will save you?”

Their swords separate only to crash together again, closer this time. Too close.

Takumi catches a glimpse of him not the armored figure, but the memory layered over it.

The memories replay again.

Kiba smiling across a tiny kitchen counter.

Kiba’s hand gripping his wrist underwater.

Kiba saying his name softly, like it meant something.

Those moments feel impossibly fragile

now.

A mistake.

The hesitation costs him.

Pain explodes through his shoulder as Kiba’s blade slices cleanly through armor and flesh. Takumi staggers back, breath hitching.

Red drips down his arm, dark against the suit.

He looks down at the blood. Then at Kiba’s sword.

And laughs.

“Hah… you’ve got the advantage,” he says hoarsely. “So what are you waiting for? Finish it.”

Kiba raises his blade.

It trembles.

Just slightly.

Takumi sees it.

The world seems to narrow to the space between them. No wind. No distant traffic. Just the sound of their breathing uneven, ragged.

“Come with me,” Kiba says again.

Not a command.

A plea.

Takumi lifts his head. Blood trails down his fingers as he tightens his grip on the Faiz Edge.

“There was a time,” he says quietly, “I would have.”

The words hit harder than any strike.

Kiba’s grip falters.

“But the world you’re chasing,” Takumi continues, voice rough but steady, “doesn’t have room for the people I want to protect.”

Silence stretches.

“You’re choosing them,” Kiba says.

Takumi shakes his head faintly.

“I’m choosing to protect their dreams,” he answers. “Even if they don’t know I exist. Even if they never thank me.”

Even if it means losing you.

The unspoken words hang between them.

Kiba lowers his head. When he speaks again, the anger is gone. So is the pleading.

“Then there’s nothing more to say.”

Slowly, deliberately, Takumi raises his sword.

Kiba steadies his own.

For the first time since they met, neither of them is reaching for the other.

There is no more hesitation.

No more almosts.

They move at the same time.

Red light surges forward.

White light answers.

The collision fractures the night crimson and silver spiraling together, indistinguishable for a fleeting, blinding instant.

And in that flash

For just a heartbeat

It looks almost like they’re holding each other.

Fandom: Kamen Rider Blade

Pairing Kenhaji

Toku shipping week day 2 - first date + love rivals

Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/79267701

Hajime lifted his head, eyes steady.

“You know I still haven’t repaid you. For when you retrieved my cards from the Eagle Undead.”

Kenzaki shifted closer without thinking, the distance between them shrinking by instinct alone.

“It’s fine. I told you before humans don’t do things just to be rewarded.”

Hajime frowned. “No. That’s not an answer.”

He straightened, decision already made.

“Meet me at the old-fashioned curry shop. Seven tonight.”

“You didn’t even ask if I was free!” Kenzaki protested, a little too loudly.

Hajime only looked at him.

Calm. Certain.

“I know you’re free.”

Kenzaki groaned, rubbing a hand over his face.

Of course he was.

Hajime always knew these things, like he was still watching him the way he used to in battle reading him before he could move.

By the time he reached Shirai Farms, the reality of it had started to sink in.

He didn’t even know why he was nervous. This wasn’t anything special. It wasn’t—

Kotaro was already rummaging through his clothes, milk bottle tucked under one arm.

“I can’t believe you’re really going on a date with him.”

Kenzaki’s face burned instantly.

“It’s not a date!”

“I’m sure it isn’t,” Hirose said, voice sweet with sarcasm.

Kotaro held up a simple blue shirt and nodded. “This is perfect.”

Before Kenzaki could argue, it was shoved into his arms along with a pair of pants.

“Thank you,” he muttered.

They left the room, mercifully giving him space. But Kotaro’s words lingered.

A date.

No. That couldn’t be right. Hajime wouldn’t - couldn’t feel that way about him.

…Right?

When he came down the stairs, he hesitated.

“Do I look okay?”

Kotaro raised his milk bottle in approval. Hirose nodded once, satisfied.

“Thanks,” Kenzaki said softly.

The ride on Blue Spader felt longer than usual.

When he arrived, Hajime was already there, leaning casually against Shadow Chaser.

The evening light caught in his hair, his posture relaxed in a way that made Kenzaki’s chest tighten.

Snap out of it, he scolded himself.

“Hajime. It’s good to see you.”

Hajime looked up and nodded. “You’re on time.”

He turned without another word and led Kenzaki inside.

“Table for two,” Hajime said flatly.

The hostess smiled as she grabbed menus. “Right away.” She paused, glancing between them.

“I hope you two have a lovely date together.”

Kenzaki nearly short-circuited.

Hajime, as usual, seemed unfazed.

They sat. Hajime ordered immediately, confident and decisive just like he used to be in combat against Kenzaki.

Kenzaki stared at the menu for a moment too long before settling on a simple curry.

While they waited, Hajime spoke again.

“Sometimes,” he said slowly, “I still look at you and remember how much I hated you.”

Kenzaki blinked.

“But that’s changed,” Hajime continued. “Now… I feel something else when I look at you. It’s unfamiliar.”

Kenzaki’s chest fluttered despite himself. He forced it down. It probably meant nothing.

Then Hajime’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“You still limp.”

Kenzaki stiffened. “How did you—?”

“When you walked in.” Hajime’s voice softened. “I’m sorry. For causing that injury.”

Kenzaki smiled, gentle and reflexive. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” Hajime snapped before he could stop himself.

The volume carried. Heads turned. Hajime immediately bowed his head.

“…I’m sorry.”

The silence that followed was heavy, broken only when the server arrived with their food.

Hajime started eating immediately, not waiting for the curry to cool.

Kenzaki watched him for a moment, a familiar dread curling in his stomach.

He’ll leave soon, he thought. This was just obligation.

He pushed the thought away and ate.

Halfway through his meal, he realized Hajime was already finished.

He braced himself.

But Hajime didn’t stand.

He stayed.

“If this was just repayment,” Hajime said quietly, “I would’ve left already.”

Kenzaki froze.

Something warm and terrifying settled in his chest. This wasn’t just debt. This wasn’t obligation.

It was something else entirely.

At the counter, Hajime paid before Kenzaki could protest.

Outside, neither moved toward their bikes.

“We could do this again,” Hajime said, almost cautiously. “Without debts.”

Kenzaki nodded before his brain could catch up.

And then suddenly he was leaning forward, his lips brushing against Hajime’s.

Just once.

Soft.

Real.

“Oh?” Hirose said when Kenzaki walked back into the farmhouse, eyes bright. “Someone’s smiling.”

“I take it the date went well?” Kotaro added, grinning.

“It wasn’t a date!” Kenzaki protested.

Fandom: Ultraman Mebius

Pairing: Aihara Ryu/Hibino Mirai

Toku shipping week day 1 - love realization

Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/79227541

Mirai, you know it’s kind of weird for two guys to be going on little park outings like this, right?” Ryu said, trying - and failing to sound casual.

Mirai blinked at him, head tilting in genuine confusion. “Is it?”

Ryu felt heat rush to his face. “N—no, I mean forget it.” He turned away quickly, scratching the back of his neck.

For some reason, his mind immediately betrayed him with Marina’s teasing voice from earlier.

You know Mirai’s probably going to ask you out on a date tomorrow on your free day.

He shoved the thought aside. That was ridiculous. They were coworkers.

Teammates. Anything beyond that would be inappropriate.

End of story.

They were on the rooftop when the explosion hit.

The ground shook, alarms screaming as people fled in panic. Ryu barely had time to react before Mirai started moving away from him.

“Hey where do you think you’re going?!” Ryu shouted.

Mirai stopped.

In the next heartbeat, he was gone.

Ultraman Mebius stood where Mirai had been.

Ryu’s breath caught painfully in his chest. His mind refused to accept it, even as the truth settled in, heavy and undeniable.

Mirai… was Mebius.

Mebi - Mirai collapsed, his massive form crashing into the ruins below. When the light faded and Mirai lay unmoving, Ryu ran to him without thinking.

“Idiot…” His voice broke. A tear slipped free before he could stop it.

Debris came crashing down. Ryu threw himself over Mirai, shielding him without hesitation.

When Ryu woke up, he was in a hospital bed.

“Where’s Mirai?!” he demanded.

“In the other room,” Marina said gently.

Ryu didn’t wait. He ran.

He stayed there for days, refusing to leave Mirai’s side.

Only then did Ryu finally admit the truth to himself.

This wasn’t just worry. This wasn’t just loyalty.

Fandom: Kamen Rider blade

Pairing: Kenhaji

Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/79138051

The first time Kenzaki saw Hajime’s form as the Joker, it was an accident.

Hajime had lost all his cards, his connection to humanity fraying at the edges, and for a brief, terrible moment the thing he tried so desperately to bury surfaced instead.

Kenzaki knew had always known that Hajime hated that form.

And yet.

The sight rooted him in place.

His breath caught somewhere in his chest, forgotten entirely as his eyes betrayed him.

He stared when he should have turned away, lingered when he should have looked anywhere else.

He found himself wanting.

Kenzaki wanted to reach out and touch those long, drooping antennas, to see if they would react to his presence, to know how they would move beneath his fingers.

The thought came unbidden, vivid enough to make his hands twitch before he forced them still.

He wanted to touch the green skin that covered Hajime, wondered if it was warm like human skin or something else entirely.

It looked unreal, otherworldly and achingly familiar in a way he didn’t want to examine too closely.

His hands stayed at his sides, fingers curling tight, nails biting into his palms as if pain might anchor him.

As if holding himself back from something unforgivable could erase the thought altogether.

He shouldn’t have looked.

He shouldn’t have noticed.

Seconds passed - only seconds but the moment stretched endlessly in Kenzaki’s mind.

Guilt pressed down on him, heavy and suffocating, until it felt hard to stand beneath its weight.

Hajime stood there as the Joker, vulnerable in a way no one else was ever meant to see, and Kenzaki felt like he had already failed him simply by wanting.

He told himself he would never think this way again, even as the thought refused to loosen its grip.

Thinking like this was disrespectful.

Cruel.

Hajime had fought too hard to be human, had chosen humanity again and again despite the pain it brought him.

Kenzaki respected that - respected him too much to let himself become another person who reduced Hajime to a monster.

The world already did that well enough.

Hajime didn’t deserve it.

He didn’t deserve this.

And yet the images returned anyway.

The Joker’s long antennas lingered in Kenzaki’s mind, unshakable, their shape burned into his thoughts no matter how hard he tried to push them away.

He squeezed his eyes shut, turned his head, told himself to stop .

but his mind betrayed him again and again.

He was terrible.

Selfish.

Cruel, even.

How could he think this way about the form Hajime hated most?

How could he feel anything but revulsion when he knew how much that body represented pain , loss, and being forced to be a ruthless killing machine?

He was no better than—

No. He couldn’t even finish the thought.

The image surfaced again without warning: the sharp line of the Joker’s chin, alien and severe. His stomach twisted.

“No—stop it,” Kenzaki whispered, the words torn from him like a confession.

But the question came anyway, soft and traitorous: What would it feel like?

Kenzaki squeezed his eyes shut, breath shaking as he berated himself mercilessly. What was he thinking? What kind of person let thoughts like that take root?

Bury it, he told himself desperately.

Bury it and never let it surface again.

He couldn’t think about this. He wouldn’t allow himself to.

Loving Hajime meant protecting him even from thoughts Kenzaki carried alone.

And if that meant swallowing this want, locking it away where it could never hurt Hajime, then Kenzaki would do it.

Fandom: Kamen Rider zeztz

Pairing: Miyamoto Kureha/Nagumo Nasuka

Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/79082941

https://archiveofourown.org/works/79082941

Snap.

The sound of the shutter had become second nature to Miyamoto Kureha. Frame, focus, capture over and over again. Buildings, people, half-forgotten corners of the city. It was what she did now, what she was good at.

A journalist’s eye, always looking outward, always documenting someone else’s story.

And yet, no matter how busy she kept her hands, her thoughts drifted back to the same place.

Nasuka Nagumo.

It had been years, and still the name lodged itself in her chest like something unfinished.

They had once talked so easily about the future, about college, about basketball, about staying together no matter what.

Back then, it had felt so solid, so inevitable. Kureha had believed in it with her whole heart.

Then, somehow, it had slipped through her fingers.

She couldn’t even remember how she’d lost contact.

Only that one day Nasuka was there laughing, sweating beside her on the court, nudging her shoulder after a good play and the next, she wasn’t.

No calls.

No messages.

Nothing.

Just silence, stretched thin over years.

That silence was Kureha’s greatest regret.

She lifted her camera again, snapping another photo, as if the motion alone could drown out the ache. It didn’t.

Every click only reminded her of everything she hadn’t said, everything she’d never explained.

How could she have let Nasuka go without a word? How could she have been so careless with someone who had meant so much?

Her chest tightened.

She had no excuse. only a hollow, gnawing sense of foolishness. Of loss she’d caused with her own two hands, even if she didn’t fully understand when or why.

Somewhere out there, Nasuka had kept moving forward, and Kureha had been left behind, carrying the weight of a goodbye she never gave.

Kureha lowered the camera, fingers trembling just slightly.

She really was an idiot.

Fandom: Kamen Rider Blade

Pairing: Kenhaji

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/78798691

https://archiveofourown.org/works/78798691

I can finally move on and be a human again.”

Kenzaki said it with a small, disbelieving smile, turning toward Hajime—who was still steadying Amane by the shoulder, his hand protective even now. After everything she’d been through, after being forced into becoming a monster against her will, it was instinct more than thought.

But it was over.

The battle was finished. The distortion corrected.

And for the first time since the world had ended and remade itself around them.

Neither of them were Jokers anymore.

Kenzaki was human again.

And Hajime… Hajime was human for the first time in his existence.

Hajime didn’t say anything at first. He just nodded once, then turned and gestured toward the forest path.

Kenzaki followed without question.

They walked in silence, the kind that wasn’t heavy, just unfamiliar.

The air felt different—lighter somehow, as if it no longer carried the expectation of violence. Leaves crunched underfoot. Somewhere in the distance, a bird called.

It felt wrong that the world could still sound like this.

“Kenzaki…” Hajime said suddenly, his voice low. He stopped walking.

Kenzaki turned.

“I’ve missed you.”

The words hit harder than any blow ever had.

For years— fifteen years Kenzaki had carried the quiet certainty that Hajime had moved on without him.

That his absence had been necessary, and therefore forgotten.

His mind scrambled now, trying to reconcile that belief with the man standing in front of him, eyes earnest, hand hovering uncertainly between them.

“I… missed you too,” Kenzaki said finally. It came out honest and raw.

Hajime’s hand lingered, unsure, before settling lightly against Kenzaki’s sleeve. The touch was careful, like he was afraid pressing any harder might make the moment vanish.

“Humans… stay, don’t they?” Hajime asked quietly.

Kenzaki blinked, then smiled not wide, not forced.

Just real.

“Yeah,” he said. “If they want to.”

Hajime nodded once, as if committing the idea to memory.

“Then stay,” he said. “Come back to my cabin with me.” If you want to stay. Hajime added quickly

Kenzaki didn’t hesitate. He nodded, and Hajime turned back toward the path, leading the way.

The cabin was small, a little worn by time and weather. It looked lived-in, not preserved.

Hajime fumbled with his keys, muttering under his breath until the lock finally gave way with a soft click.

Inside, it was simple. Sparse. Everything had a purpose.

It felt undeniably like Hajime.

“Make yourself at home,” Hajime said, breaking the silence.

Kenzaki nodded, though he wasn’t sure how to respond.

The absence of tension felt surreal. No instinct urging him to fight. No warning ringing in his head.

Just… quiet.

And then, without warning, the weight of it all crashed down.

A tear slipped free. Then another. Kenzaki tried to stop it, but the dam had already broken.

His vision blurred, his chest tight, and suddenly he was crying in earnest.

He didn’t even realize he’d moved until he felt arms around him.

Hajime held him firmly, grounding him. One hand came up, wiping away a tear with surprising gentleness.

“Kenzaki…” he murmured.

The moment shattered when Kenzaki’s stomach growled loudly.

Kenzaki let out a small, embarrassed laugh, scrubbing at his eyes. “Sorry. I guess…

being human again comes with side effects. As a Joker, I didn’t really need to eat.”

Hajime’s lips twitched, just barely.

He took Kenzaki’s hand and guided him to the couch.

“Stay here,” he said. “I have leftovers.”

Somehow, quietly, the night continued.

And just like that, Kenzaki found himself in Hajime’s bedroom, preparing for sleep.

He turned on the shower, steam already filling the small bathroom, when a thought struck him.

He hesitated, then stepped back into the living room, where Hajime was adjusting his camera.

“Hajime… uh,” Kenzaki scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t really have any clothes with me. I didn’t plan on staying when I came back to Japan, and—well—yours won’t fit me.

You’re… shorter.”

Hajime glanced up, then set the camera aside calmly.

“Kotaro gave me some of your clothes,” he said. “To help with the grief.”

Kenzaki blinked. “…He did?”

Hajime didn’t elaborate.

He just took Kenzaki’s hand and pulled him back toward the bedroom, rummaging through a drawer and tossing clothes aside until he found something usable.

“I don’t have much,” he said. “Sorry. And you’ll need a toothbrush. I’ll grab one.”

Kenzaki nodded and headed for the shower.

When he returned, water still dripping from his hair and shoulders, Hajime wordlessly grabbed a towel.

“Bend down.”

Kenzaki complied, and Hajime worked the towel through his hair, careful but thorough. He stopped only when the towel was damp, then seemed to realize what he was doing and pulled his hand back.

“…You should probably brush your teeth,” Hajime said, practical as ever.

“Oh. Right.”

They stood side by side in the bathroom, brushing in silence, shoulders nearly touching. In the mirror, Kenzaki caught his reflection.

No armor.

No monster.

Just him.

And Hajime, beside him.

Like this was normal.

They slipped into bed easily, without discussion.

“Good night, Kenzaki,” Hajime murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

“Good night, Hajime.”

Later, Kenzaki woke with a very human problem. He slipped out of bed quietly, relieved himself, and returned—only to find Hajime sitting upright, eyes wide.

“You left me?”

“I—I just had to pee,” Kenzaki said quickly.

Hajime relaxed, lying back down without another word.

The next few days passed with simple things.

Mornings where neither of them knew who should wake up first.

Food eaten standing at the counter because sitting felt like too much effort.

Kenzaki learning which floorboard creaked and avoiding it instinctively.

Hajime setting out two cups instead of one.

Nothing was discussed.

Nothing was decided.

Somehow, Kenzaki was still there when the sun went down.

Soon, they noticed the supplies running low.

The cabin had never been meant for two people.

Hajime stared into the cupboard longer than necessary.

“There’s no rice,” he said eventually.

Kenzaki checked. One half empty bag remained.

“That might last one more meal.”

“If we eat less.”

“I can skip dinner.”

“No.”

The answer was sharp enough to end the argument.

“We’ll need to go into town,” Hajime said.

“Okay.”

They walked side by side, shoulders bumping occasionally.

Hajime carried his bag—and his cheap throwaway camera.

Still taking photos of everything,” Kenzaki teased lightly.

Hajime’s lips twitched, just a small smile. “It’s how I remember things and whenever I go out for small things I don’t really want to risk damaging the expensive one.”

Kenzaki shook his head, smiling quietly.

He’d seen Hajime do this a thousand times.

Nothing had changed and somehow, that was comforting.

The automatic doors slid open, and the fluorescent lights hummed overhead.

Hajime pushed the cart with a quiet efficiency, camera slung across his shoulder.

Kenzaki followed, carrying the list Hajime had scribbled on the back of a receipt, peering at it like it was a map he didn’t quite know how to read.

They moved slowly through the aisles. Hajime reached for a carton of eggs, then paused, squinting at the price tag. Kenzaki picked up a bag of rice, turned it over in his hands, then set it back down, unsure.

“Do we really need six apples?” Kenzaki asked, raising an eyebrow.

Hajime glanced at him, expression neutral. “Probably not. But they’ll last a few days.”

They wandered through the produce, then the dairy, then the shelves of canned goods.

Each time Kenzaki reached for something, Hajime either nudged it aside or added another item never rushing, never hovering, just quietly adjusting.

Somehow, they ended up with far more than they’d planned: snacks, fresh vegetables, a loaf of bread Hajime hadn’t even realized he liked.

At the register, Kenzaki fumbled with his wallet. “I… I didn’t grab any cash.”

Hajime shook his head, smiling faintly. “It’s fine.”

They bought far more than the list accounted for.

Back home, Kenzaki apologized for not paying.

“It’s fine.”

Then Hajime stared at the receipt.

“…Two hundred dollars?”

Kenzaki laughed. “Welcome to being human.”

Hajime smiled softly. “I guess it’s worth it.”

That night, they fell asleep on the couch, arms around each other.

Fandom: Kamen Rider ooo

Pairing: Eiji and Ankh (can be platonic or romantic)

Tw: food aversions

Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/78622876

https://archiveofourown.org/works/78622876

Eiji woke up bright and early.

Unfortunately for everyone involved, this included Ankh.

Eiji sat up in bed with a soft fwump, stretching his arms like a man who had slept wonderfully and learned absolutely nothing from past experiences.

“Ahhh,” he sighed. “Morning!”

Beside him, Ankh was still cocooned in blankets, one arm half flung dramatically over his face like a wing. He had no intention of waking up.

Sleep was rare, precious, and his.

Eiji slid out of bed as quietly as he could—which is to say, not quietly at all. The bed creaked.

The floor squeaked.

The door clicked.

Ankh grumbled, rolled over, and continued sleeping.

Downstairs, Eiji decided breakfast was in order.

“Something simple,” he mused, peering into the fridge. “Eggs sound good.”

This decision sealed his fate.

He cracked the eggs into the pan, humming happily as they began to sizzle.

Upstairs.

In the shared bedroom.

Ankh’s eyes snapped open.

He froze.

“…Why,” he croaked, voice rough with sleep, “does it smell like death?”

The smell slithered through the room, warm and sulfurous and unmistakable.

Ankh gagged.

He bolted upright, tangling himself in the blankets, flailing as he tried to escape them like they were personally responsible.

“NO—absolutely not—” retch

He stumbled out of bed, barely managing to keep his balance as he staggered toward the stairs, one hand clamped over his mouth.

“EIJI—!” gag “—WHAT—ARE—YOU—DOING?!”

He thundered down the stairs and skidded into the kitchen, eyes watering, wings bristling.

Eiji stood at the stove, completely unaware of the devastation he’d caused, cheerfully stirring scrambled eggs.

“Oh! You’re up already?” Eiji said, smiling. “Good morning! I’m making eggs.”

Ankh pointed at the pan like it had insulted his entire bloodline.

“WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS IN OUR HOUSE?!”

Eiji blinked. “…For breakfast?”

“I CAN’T EAT EGGS!”

“Oh! Are you not hungry?”

“I’M A BIRD, EIJI.”

Silence.

The eggs sizzled louder, like they were enjoying this.

“…Oh,” Eiji said.

Ankh gagged again, dramatically this time. “Do you know what that smells like to me?! That’s not food! That’s an obituary!”

“Oh no,” Eiji gasped, dropping the spatula. “I’m so sorry! I forgot! I didn’t even think about it!”

He rushed to turn off the stove, panic setting in instantly. “I’ll throw them out! I’ll open all the windows! I’ll burn the pan! I’ll move out—”

“YOU WILL NOT,” Ankh snapped, retreating to the farthest possible corner of the kitchen. “But you willnever cook eggs again.”

“Yes! Absolutely! Eggs are banned! Permanently!”

“…In this house,” Ankh added.

Eiji nodded fervently. “Of course! No eggs anywhere near where we sleep! Or exist! Or breathe!”

Ankh crossed his arms, eyes narrowed. “You owe me.”

Eiji straightened. “What do you want?”

“…Fish.”

“Right now?”

“Yes.”

“Cooked how?”

“…Not like that.”

Eiji saluted. “On it!”

Ankh watched him scramble around the kitchen, still apologizing under his breath, and finally sighed, rubbing his temples.

Fandom: Kamen Rider Blade

Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/78571486

Hajime had been down in his room, carefully cleaning the lens of one of his cameras. He moved slowly, methodical as always, polishing the glass even though it was already spotless.

The familiar routine usually helped settle his thoughts.

It didn’t work this time.

Amane’s voice from the day before drifted back to him, uninvited, clear as if she were standing beside him again.

“You know, if you’re hiding something, it’s okay. Me and Mom will accept you no matter what.”

Hajime’s hands stilled.

For a brief, unsettling moment, his heart seemed to stop altogether.

Had they figured it out? Had he been careless without realizing it? The idea sent a cold ripple through him.

He had lived too long learning how to keep that part of himself hidden, how to make sure no one ever looked too closely.

Upstairs, the sound of voices pulled him back.

Haruka was helping Amane with her schoolwork, her tone patient and practiced.

“I’m bored,” Amane sighed dramatically.

“Just a few more problems,” Haruka replied. “You can manage that.”

Hajime let out a quiet chuckle before he could stop himself.

Even after all this time, their small, ordinary moments still caught him off guard.

Then Amane spoke again, her voice carrying far too clearly down the stairs.

“You know, I don’t get why Hajime-san doesn’t just tell us that he’s gay.”

“Amane!” Haruka snapped, sharp enough to echo. “You can’t just say things like that.”

“What?” Amane shot back, genuinely confused.

Hajime felt heat rush to his face, the reaction immediate and completely unhelpful. Gay.

He didn’t even fully understand what the word meant—only that it was something human, something people were not always allowed to be open about.

Amane continued anyway. “You see how he looks at that Kenzaki guy.”

Haruka sighed, the edge in her voice softening. “Even if that were true, it’s none of our business.”

Hajime lowered the camera into his lap, his fingers resting against the cool glass of the lens.

Upstairs, pages turned.

Haruka’s voice returned to explaining equations, calm and steady, grounding the space again.

He told himself it didn’t matter what Amane thought. Or what word she used.

Those were human things, labels and explanations he had never learned how to wear properly.

And yet, his chest felt oddly light. Not tight with fear, not heavy with dread—just… open. Like something had been named incorrectly but pointed in the right direction.

He turned the word over in his mind once, then let it go.

What stayed instead were memories.

Kenzaki laughing after Hajime had squeezed lemon juice in his eyes, brushing it off like it was nothing.

The sound of that laugh , soft, unguarded, almost fragile.

The way freckles appeared across his face when Hajime stood close enough, close enough to notice things he doubted many others did.

Hajime didn’t know what it meant to love someone.

He wasn’t sure he was capable of it in the way humans described. But he knew this: thinking of Kenzaki never frightened him. It never felt wrong. It felt right

Haruka’s voice cut through his thoughts again, firmer this time. “Hajime will tell us things when he’s ready. You can’t force things out of someone, Amane.”

Hajime nodded to himself, the gesture small but certain.

Yes.

He did like Kenzaki Kazuma.

That, at least, felt true.

He set the camera aside and stood, the tension he hadn’t realized he was carrying finally easing. Maybe one day, he would find the words to explain everything to the Kuriharas, to Kenzaki, even to himself.

But there was no rush.

For now, tea sounded nice.

Fandom: Kamen Rider Blade

Pairing: Kenhaji

Link: (can also be read down below)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/78401961

It was a foolish idea.

Kenzaki knew that the moment the weather alert buzzed on his phone again, flashing warnings about rapidly dropping temperatures and an incoming snowstorm. He should have turned around.

He should have stayed home and trusted that everything would be fine.

But his heart refused to listen.

Amane and Haruka were away on a trip - Hajime would be alone at the Jacaranda. Kenzaki told himself it was just concern, that anyone would worry under the

circumstances.

Still, the thought of Hajime sitting by himself in that too-quiet café while the snow closed in made his chest tighten in a way he couldn’t ignore.

I’ll just check on him, Kenzaki reasoned. That’s all.

He could probably leave before the snow actually fell.

…Right?

By the time Kenzaki arrived, the Jacaranda was exactly as he expected - dark, the “Closed” sign hanging in the window, the familiar warmth of the place dimmed by the absence of its usual voices.

Snow hadn’t started yet, but the air was sharp and heavy, the kind that promised worse to come.

Inside, Hajime paused mid-step when he thought he heard something at the door.

He frowned slightly. It couldn’t be Amane or Haruka , they weren’t due back for days. Still, curiosity got the better of him.

He lifted the blinds.

And there was Kenzaki, standing outside like he belonged there, snow already dusting his shoulders.

Hajime’s breath caught despite himself.

What is he doing here?

He glanced down at his phone, thumb hovering over the weather app. The forecast hadn’t changed: snow in less than an hour. Heavy snowfall.

Dangerous conditions.

With a quiet exhale, Hajime unlocked the door and opened it just enough to peer out.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, voice flat but not unkind.

Kenzaki smiled at him anyway, sheepish and warm in that way that always made Hajime’s defenses falter. “I know,” he admitted. “But… I missed you.”

Hajime knew—knew that he should tell him to go home. That it would be safer, smarter. Instead, the words that came out were, “Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee?”

Kenzaki’s face lit up instantly. “Ooh, that’d be nice.”

The door closed behind Kenzaki with a soft click, sealing the warmth inside. Hajime busied himself with the coffee, hands moving automatically as if routine could quiet the unease settling in his chest. He slid the mug across the counter without comment.

Kenzaki took his time drinking it, cradling the cup between his hands, savoring the heat. Hajime watched him from across the room, pretending not to count the minutes.

He’ll finish soon, Hajime told himself. Then I’ll send him on his way.

But twenty minutes passed and snow began to fall, thick and relentless, tapping against the windows like a warning.

Hajime looked outside, jaw tightening. There was no way he could send Kenzaki back out there now.

Even the thought made his stomach twist.

With a resigned sigh, he turned back. “You’re not going anywhere tonight.”

Kenzaki didn’t argue.

He just nodded, relief flickering across his face before he carefully schooled it away.

Hajime took the empty mug and rinsed it out, setting it in the sink. Kenzaki followed him into the kitchen, hovering like he wanted to help but wasn’t sure how.

That was when the lights cut out.

The sudden darkness swallowed the room, followed by the hum of silence.

“This is gonna be a problem,” Hajime muttered.

He turned and immediately noticed Kenzaki shivering, his shoulders drawn in despite his attempt to hide it.

Hajime moved without thinking, grabbing a blanket and draping it over him.

“Sorry,” he said quietly. “I can’t offer much more.”

He took Kenzaki’s hand and guided him toward the couch.

Even with the blanket, Kenzaki continued to tremble, so Hajime fetched another and layered it on top.

Hajime lingered longer than necessary before sitting down beside him, close enough that the blanket brushed Kenzaki’s arm.

When it still didn’t seem to help, Hajime shifted closer, pressing his side gently against Kenzaki’s. He barely noticed the cold himself being undead had its advantages but he noticed everything about Kenzaki.

They stayed like that for a while.

Slowly, Kenzaki’s shivering eased. Hajime realized he’d moved closer without thinking, drawn in by warmth that wasn’t his own.

“Do you think it’ll let up?” Kenzaki asked softly.

Hajime shrugged. “Hard to say.”

Kenzaki smiled faintly. “I haven’t seen snow this bad since I was a kid.”

Hajime felt Kenzaki adjust the blankets, carefully shifting them so they covered Hajime as well. Then Kenzaki leaned his head against Hajime’s shoulder.

Hajime froze , then relaxed, letting him stay.

By the time Kenzaki realized he’d leaned in without thinking, Hajime still hadn’t pulled away.

“If the power doesn’t come back…” Kenzaki began.

“The upstairs rooms will freeze,” Hajime finished. “And I don’t want to mess up Amane or Haruka’s room. No offense.” He glanced at Kenzaki. “You can’t stay on the couch all night.”

“I’ll be fine,” Kenzaki insisted, gently squeezing Hajime’s hand. “I swear.”

Hajime shook his head. “It’s safer if we sleep in the same bedroom. In case something happens.” After a pause, he added, “It’ll be warmer.”

And just like that, Kenzaki found himself in Hajime’s room.

It felt different being there like this more intimate than any previous visit.

The room was lined with photography equipment, shelves of carefully kept memories. Kenzaki hovered near the doorway, suddenly worried he was intruding.

Hajime seemed to read his thoughts. “It’s fine,” he said simply.

Kenzaki’s gaze drifted to the bed. Twin-sized. Hajime gestured toward it, hesitated, then added, “You can take whichever side you want.” He scooted over. “I’ll take this side.”

Kenzaki climbed in carefully, trying to make himself as small as possible but Hajime always made space for him, shifting closer without comment.

“You know,” Hajime said quietly, “I’m glad you came. The Jacaranda was feeling lonely with just me here.”

The winter air pressed in around them as they lay there in silence. After a moment’s hesitation, Hajime moved closer, an arm brushing Kenzaki’s.

Kenzaki’s eyes finally grew heavy.

Fandom: Kamen rider blade

Pairing: Kenzaki kazuma x Hajime aikawa

Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/78130021

Kenzaki had no recollection of how he’d ended up in the cabin.

The last thing he remembered was walking , snow crunching under his boots, the cold biting at his lungs—then nothing.

No transition, no warning.

Just darkness, and then warmth.

He stirred, consciousness returning slowly, the smell of old wood and clean air settling around him.

The ceiling above was familiar in a way . low. rustic.

…Where am I ? Then it clicked he must be in the cabin he rescued Hajime at a while ago. But how’d he get here?

He was just about to push himself upright when something tightened around his lower abdomen.

Kenzaki froze.

The pressure wasn’t painful, but it was firm , protective.

Instinct screamed at him to move, to pull away, but something deeper told him not to. His breathing hitched as he carefully shifted his head instead, turning just enough to see what or who had hold of him.

Green and black armor filled his vision.

Hajime lay pressed against his side, one arm draped securely over Kenzaki’s stomach, his body curved around him like a shield.

The Joker’s antennas were wrapped loosely around Kenzaki’s waist, their tips twitching faintly with every breath he took.

“…Hajime,” Kenzaki whispered.

His chest loosened all at once. Relief washed over him so strongly it made his eyes sting.

Hajime was in his Joker form - for some reason but he looked peaceful.

No tension in his posture, no signs of distress. Just… holding on.

As if sensing Kenzaki’s awareness, the antennas tightened a little, reflexive. Not aggressive. Not threatening. Just closer. Like Hajime was afraid something important might slip away if he loosened his grip.

“It’s okay,” Kenzaki murmured without thinking.

He lifted one hand slowly, carefully, and brushed his fingers along one of the antennas. The reaction was immediat Hajime relaxed, the rigid edge to his hold melting away. The antenna curled around Kenzaki’s wrist, gentle and warm, before settling again against his stomach.

Kenzaki exhaled a quiet laugh. “You’re really holding onto me, huh…”

Hajime shifted then, pressing closer, his helmet resting lightly against Kenzaki’s chest.

A soft sound escaped him—something between a hum and a sigh.

“Kenzaki,” Hajime muttered, voice low and distorted, but unmistakably his.

“I’m here,” Kenzaki replied at once, the words coming easily. “I’m not going anywhere.”

That seemed to be enough.

Hajime tilted his head up just slightly, nuzzling beneath Kenzaki’s chin, the smooth surface of his face cool against Kenzaki’s skin. It was an instinctive gesture clumsy, but unmistakably affectionate.

Kenzaki smiled and brought his hand up, resting it against the side of Hajime’s head. He rubbed slow, steady circles there, the way he knew Hajime liked, even if he’d never say it out loud.

The antennas responded immediately, curling tighter around Kenzaki’s waist, his wrist, his thigh wrapping him in a loose, careful embrace.

“Guess you brought me somewhere safe,” Kenzaki murmured, eyes drifting shut again. He didn’t remember the journey, but he didn’t need to.

Hajime was here.

That was enough.

The cabin was quiet, warm despite the cold outside.

Hajime’s grip never loosened, but it softened, settling into something secure and familiar.

Fandom: Kamen Rider Blade

Pairings: too many

Link: (can also be read down below): https://archiveofourown.org/works/77965126

https://archiveofourown.org/works/77965126

Entanglement

Pairing: Hajime Aikawa / Kenzaki Kazuma

Fandom: Kamen Rider Blade

Notes: Post canon, angst, body dysphoria, joker Kenzaki

Link: can also be read by scrolling

Pairing: Kenzaki kazuma / Aikawa Hajime

Fandom: Kamen Rider Blade and Mamen rider zetz

Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/77333101

Inspo: