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mahanoormoon · 6 days ago

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WHEN THE WIND CHANGES

𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐊𝐀𝐉𝐈 word count :: ( 12,400 ) genre :: fluffyyy, angsty, gore, && slow burn content contains :: stabbing/cutting, knives, bats, fighting, pretty much just regular bofurin behavior part one right here !!

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

you didn’t know which snapped first — your fear or your patience.

the bat pressed tighter into your spine. the knife guy let his words drag out, lazy and amused, talking about your face like it was something to be hunted.

familiar.

recognizable.

too much like suo’s.

no more.

without a word, you slammed your elbow backward, hitting the gut of the guy behind you. he cursed and staggered just enough for you to twist — fast — grabbing the glass pitcher from the table and smashing it across his shoulder. shards exploded in a spray of water and glass.

kotoha in motion.

“what the—?!”

the one with the knife swiped wildly, barely missing your side. kotoha screamed your name — and then you saw it.

the girl who usually worked with practiced grace now moved like a whirlwind. she grabbed the nearest coffee tray, launching it like a discus. it slammed into the head of buzz-cut, knocking him half-off his feet.

“don’t touch her!” she barked, running around the counter.

the third guy lunged for you, so you dropped low, sweeping his leg with your foot — a move your brother definitely taught you. he hit the tile hard, knocking over a table with a crash. dishes shattered everywhere.

you didn’t stop.

you spun toward the one with the knife again — he was up, cocky, swinging. your shoulder caught the edge of the blade before you turned your weight and punched hard into his ribs. the blade grazed your cheek.

warm blood trickled down. you didn’t flinch.

behind you, kotoha used the coffee pot. full and boiling.

it shattered against one of the guy’s backs with a scream.

“don’t touch my staff, you asshole!” she shouted.

tables were overturned, chairs smashed, glass glittered across the floor like broken stars. the café was chaos, and your adrenaline was burning hot — your vision narrow, focused, animal.

the guy you hit last slumped down near the wall, dazed. the one with the bat was back up, but slower, angrier.

he swung wide.

you ducked, grabbed the edge of a table, and used your entire weight to shove it straight into him — the corner catching his thigh. he stumbled and fell into a heap of mugs and splintered wood.

panting, dizzy from blood loss, you and kotoha backed up toward each other in the center of the wrecked café, hearts pounding in unison.

all three guys lay groaning and broken in scattered corners of the floor.

the silence that followed was thick, except for your breaths and the clinking of something still rolling across the ground.

and then—

“oi!”

the door burst open.

umemiya’s voice was loud and commanding, immediately followed by the stomping of several pairs of shoes.

“what the hell happened?!”

ren, sakura, kiryu, hiragi, nirei, and suo poured in behind him — some wide-eyed, some already snapping to attention.

they froze at the scene: the café wrecked, glass underfoot, furniture scattered like a battlefield.

and you — shirt torn at the shoulder, bruised, bleeding down your cheek, knuckles scraped raw — standing next to a panting, wild-eyed kotoha.

“we… handled it,” kotoha breathed, trying to catch herself, palms scraped, hair loose from her ponytail.

you stood with your fists still clenched, chest rising and falling like a drum.

“barely,” you mumbled.

ren’s lollipop fell from his mouth.

kiryu let out a soft whistle, expression still calm but surprised. “damn.”

nirei was already halfway to a panic attack. “w-what—what happened? are you—are you both okay?!”

“those guys,” kotoha pointed to the jackets, “aren’t shishitoren. they jumped some kids and came in to mess with us.”

“they recognized her,” kotoha added, quieter now. “said she looked like someone.”

suo’s smile twitched, almost dropped.

you didn’t meet his eyes.

ren, meanwhile, was still frozen. your blood — the cut on your cheek — the way you stood, ready to go again if you had to.

you were fire.

and something in his chest twisted sharply.

you sat on the edge of the booth seat with one arm resting on the table and the other pressed tightly against your thigh. the adrenaline was wearing off, and now all the cuts you hadn’t noticed were starting to throb.

your arm had a thin, angry gash from where a broken plate had slashed across it. your thigh—worse. the blade had grazed deeper there, your jeans torn and blood darkening the fabric, sticking it to your skin. and your ribs ached with every breath, bruises blooming beneath the surface like ink in water.

suo crouched in front of you again, this time quieter. less teasing.

his eyes flickered down to your leg, the blood there, and he exhaled.

“…you should’ve told them where im at. not stayed behind.”

you shrugged. “i didn’t have time to think. besides, we won.”

“barely.”

“still counts.”

his jaw clenched. “this isn’t a game.”

you looked at him for a long beat. then: “do you think this was a mistake?”

he didn’t answer right away. his hand reached for a clean towel from the supply kotoha had tossed your way, dampening it before gently pressing it to the cut on your thigh.

you flinched. he paused.

“do you?”

his voice was low. too calm.

you avoided his eyes. “…maybe. maybe it was stupid to think i could be here. with everything going on.”

you heard the creak of a booth behind you, followed by low voices:

“okay, but seriously,” kiryu drawled, half-laughing and half-tired. “can we just ask them already?”

“no,” hiragi said immediately, annoyed. “because we’ve tried that. like four times.”

“siblings?”

“doesn’t make sense. they act too close.”

“dating?”

“too snappy.”

“exes?”

“too affectionate.”

“…married and in denial?”

“oh my god.”

nirei, pacing anxiously near the entrance, added, “w-what if they’re both spies from some other gang who infiltrated bofurin as emotional informants?!”

“nirei,” kiryu muttered, “please drink water and sit down.”

umemiya was leaning against the counter now, sweat drying at his temple, arms crossed with a lazy grin. “i think they’re siblings,” he said plainly, “but they’re hiding it ‘cause they like causing chaos.”

“shut up, hajime,” kotoha groaned from behind the counter as she wrapped a bandage around her palm. “that’s actually not the worst theory.”

you and suo both glanced over.

then you looked back at him.

“they’re not totally wrong,” you said, wincing again as he dabbed more gently.

“they don’t need to know,” he muttered. “it’s not about hiding it forever, just—keeping you safe.”

“but i’m not safe, suo.”

he stilled.

you continued, “i came here thinking it’d be normal. calm. but it’s just a different kind of storm. i didn’t want to be a liability.”

he let the towel fall from your thigh.

“you’re not,” he said firmly.

“i just thought i’d find peace here,” you whispered. “with you. and them. and now it’s… this.”

he leaned back, hands on his knees, looking up at the ceiling like he was trying to come up with an answer that didn’t exist.

then finally, quietly: “i don’t know if it was a mistake… but if it was, it’s already too late.”

you nodded slowly.

behind you, someone (probably hiragi) muttered, “alright i’m just gonna say it — if they are secretly married and have three kids in the countryside, i wanna be the godfather.”

“shut. up,” sakura gritted through his teeth, tugging his hoodie over his head and hiding his face.

you couldn’t help it—you laughed, blood on your sleeve and all.

suo rolled his eyes and shook his head. “idiots.”

but he was smiling too.

just a little.

ren hadn’t meant to overhear.

he was just passing by — at least, that’s what he told himself. passing by, lingering at the edge of the wrecked café with his hands shoved deep in his pockets and his bluetooth headphones slung over his ears, but not playing anything. a lollipop no longer in his mouth.

the sun was low. golden. soft.

you were sitting on the steps near the side entrance, head dipped forward slightly, hair in disarray, bruises painting your skin like ink stains. suo was crouched beside you, his voice low. too low to fully catch, but sharp enough in tone to carry fragments.

“…was it a mistake?”

“…just wanted to find peace here…”

“…i’m not safe, suo.”

“…with you. and them.”

his brow twitched. his jaw tightened.

he didn’t know what he was listening to, and he didn’t know why he was listening.

there was a moment — one breath too long — where suo gently lifted the hem of your jeans to check the bleeding at your thigh, and ren felt something hot and bitter twist in his chest.

he looked away sharply, staring at the broken pieces of the café sign scattered across the pavement. pothos, now missing the o and a broken window.

what were you to each other?

why did it matter to him?

“yo!”

ren blinked.

a heavy arm dropped across his shoulders, and he immediately tensed.

“you alive?” umemiya grinned beside him, completely oblivious — or pretending to be. “you were staring at the ground like it owed you money.”

“…wasn’t.”

“right, right,” hajime nodded, clearly not convinced. “well. good news!”

ren arched a brow. “what now.”

umemiya clapped once, loud enough to make nirei flinch from five feet away.

“today’s school assignment,” he declared, pointing toward the half-shattered front of café pothos, “is team-based reconstruction. we’re helping kotoha clean this mess up.”

“…what,” kiryu muttered as he walked out of the café with a broom.

“we’re not contractors, hajime,” hiragi snapped.

“don’t care. team bonding.”

sakura peeked from around the doorway, getting ice and napkins for your fat lip. “kotoha said if we break anything else, we have to pay for it.”

“and if we fix stuff?”

“we… don’t have to pay,” sakura offered, scratching his cheek.

“perfect!” umemiya beamed. “see? win-win.”

ren let the sound of everyone complaining fade behind him.

you were standing now, leaning against the railing as suo said something else in that same low tone, something ren didn’t catch.

he didn’t like the way it made his chest tighten.

he didn’t like the way you looked a little too soft around suo.

and more than anything — he hated how much he cared about something he didn’t understand.

he looked down at the lollipop in his hand, unwrapped it, and shoved it between his teeth.

“…tch,” he muttered.

“what was that?” umemiya asked.

“nothing.”

but his eyes stayed fixed on you anyway.

the inside of café pothos still smelled like sweat, spilled espresso, and broken drywall.

someone had turned on the ceiling fan even though it was missing two blades, so it wobbled above them like it might come down at any second. hiragi had placed a bucket directly underneath it, “just in case,” and then left it there as if that solved anything.

“okay, sakura,” kotoha snapped, hands on her hips, “you’re in charge of the broom. kiryu, windows. nirei, keep track of what’s too broken to fix.”

nirei was already pale.

“i don’t know what counts as too broken!” he whined, flinching as a stool collapsed beside him.

“if it has splinters, it’s probably too broken,” kotoha deadpanned.

“what if i get splinters?!”

“then ren can carry you home.”

ren, sitting on the counter with his lollipop in one corner of his mouth and his headphones resting over his ears, made a noise that sounded like a flat laugh. he wasn’t looking at anyone — but he wasn’t exactly not looking at you, either.

you had your sleeves rolled up, a broom in your hand, and a tight smile on your face. bruises still bloomed along your arms, and the cut on your cheek was a bright, thin slash, only slightly faded under a fresh bandage.

you kept your distance. didn’t say anything.

but every time you turned, you could feel his gaze flicker over to you.

you started testing it.

reaching up to adjust a light fixture — you felt him watch the movement. bending down to grab a mop bucket — you caught the slight shift in his posture, like he was getting ready to step in. not that he did, of course. he just… watched. always watched.

you caught his eyes once.

you didn’t look away.

he did.

“we’re gonna need new signage,” kotoha muttered beside you, tossing aside a snapped wooden plank. “and a new coffee grinder. and probably a new door. great.”

you hummed, nodding slightly, but your eyes drifted again — and ren was still watching you.

he looked annoyed now. or maybe caught.

either way, you smirked to yourself.

“i’ll wipe down the tables,” you offered, grabbing a towel.

as you passed ren to reach the cleaning spray, his foot nudged slightly to the side — not enough to trip you, but enough to make you step a little closer, maybe too close.

he didn’t move.

you looked up, slowly.

“…what?” you asked softly.

he didn’t answer. just popped the lollipop back between his teeth and looked the other way.

“nothing.”

but the red tips of his ears said otherwise.

you smiled, more to yourself than anyone else, and walked past him, letting your shoulder graze his on the way.

from across the room, umemiya paused with a chair balanced on one arm and nudged suo. “…hey. that tension? do we know what that is?”

suo tilted his head, watching you both for a second, then shrugged with a crooked grin. “not yet.”

the café looked like a battlefield with sunlight bleeding through the shattered front window and motes of dust floating where pastries used to sit. but there was laughter now, and loud complaints, and the occasional crash followed by someone yelling “not it!” when a shelf collapsed or a chair split.

you were halfway through wiping down the counter when someone behind you tossed a rag. it flopped onto your head like a wet towel from hell.

“i—” you blinked, then slowly turned around.

sakura stood there, frozen, hand still half-raised.

“…you threw this?” you asked flatly.

he shrieked, sweating instantly. “i panicked! you were—too quiet! it was suspicious!”

“that’s your reason?” you deadpanned.

“you looked like you were plotting something!”

“maybe i was plotting to wipe the counter without interruption.”

he looked horrified. “see?! plotting!”

you rolled your eyes and chucked the rag back at him. it hit him square in the face. he made a noise that was equal parts defeat and whimper as he stumbled back and bumped into kiryu, who hadn’t moved from his post at the window.

“yo,” kiryu greeted lazily, not even looking. “you alive?”

“emotionally? never.”

kotoha was barking orders again, and at some point, hiragi was arguing with the fan, yelling, “you wanna fall, huh?! then do it! i dare you!”

you wiped sweat from your brow and reached for a bucket, only to find ren already holding it out.

your hands brushed.

you froze.

he didn’t move. didn’t say anything either, but there was something unreadable in his eyes — the soft buzz of his bluetooth headphones still hung around his neck, and his usual lollipop sat forgotten between his fingers.

“…thanks,” you mumbled, a little quieter than before.

he shrugged, looking off to the side. “suo said if anything broke today, it’d probably be because of you.”

you scoffed, grabbing the bucket. “rude. it was sakura’s fault.”

“not surprised,” he muttered.

still, you caught it — the tiny twitch at the corner of his lips. almost a smile. almost.

as the group split up again, ren moved toward the broken shelving, and you stayed by the front, stacking bent chairs and kicking aside broken glass. at some point, he started sweeping nearby — and somehow you both kept ending up in the same space.

you reached for a box at the same time.

he got there first.

again.

you hesitated, eyes flicking up. “you’re doing this on purpose.”

he tilted his head. “doing what?”

“hovering.”

his brow lifted. “you said you noticed. so now i’m not hiding it.”

you opened your mouth, not sure if you were impressed or annoyed. “…well, at least you’re honest.”

he handed you the box without looking. “don’t get used to it.”

“mm,” you hummed, brushing past him again. “too late.”

somewhere across the café, umemiya was trying to untangle sakura from a curtain rod while shouting, “you are not tarzan! stop swinging on things!” and nirei had been roped into sorting receipts and looked like he was going to cry.

you stood at the window, setting the box down. outside, the light was dimming — golden hour painting everything in soft edges and warm orange. a moment passed. you heard footsteps behind you, slow, steady.

ren.

you didn’t turn around this time.

but you didn’t move away either.

the light from the window spilled in gently now, casting everything in dusky gold — the shattered glass twinkled like stars on the floor, and the wooden counters glowed with warmth they didn’t carry hours earlier.

you didn’t turn when ren approached. you didn’t need to. there was something about the air when he was close — quieter, heavier. not uncomfortable… just present. in a way no one else managed to be.

“you missed a spot,” he said, voice low.

you glanced at him from the corner of your eye. “no, i didn’t.”

“you did.”

“where?”

he leaned in slightly, his hand reaching past you, a single finger wiping at a tiny smudge on the glass just beside yours. he didn’t even need to touch you — but you felt the space between you get thinner anyway.

he looked at the glass. “see?”

you looked at him. “you’re ridiculous.”

“you’re slow.”

“i was cleaning everything else.”

“excuses,” he said, soft, eyes not leaving yours.

your throat tightened a little. you swallowed, slow, careful. “…you’ve been acting weird all day.”

he tilted his head. “you’re the one who said you knew the whole time. thought it was cute to mess with me.”

“maybe it was.” your voice was barely above a whisper.

a beat passed.

he didn’t step away. didn’t look away.

your heart thudded against your ribs. too loud. too obvious.

his eyes dropped briefly to your mouth before flicking back up. “…maybe it wasn’t a bad assignment.”

you blinked. “what?”

“watching you.”

it felt like a confession slipped into silence. it felt like something else hanging in the air with the dust and sunset.

and just like that — the sound of footsteps and a clearing throat shattered it.

suo.

he stood by the archway between the front and back of the café, arms crossed, smile not reaching his eyes. “hate to interrupt,” he said smoothly, “but she’s not done for the day yet.”

you blinked, shoulders tensing, and took a step back from ren.

ren stayed still, posture stiff.

“you need something, suo?” you asked, eyes not quite meeting his.

“nah,” he said, but the edge in his voice lingered. “just thought maybe you forgot there’s still broken glass on the other side of the counter.”

you opened your mouth, but he added, softer but not kinder, “you’ve got a thing for danger or what?”

your stomach twisted slightly. the guilt. the understanding. the reminder.

ren finally turned his head, giving suo a slow, narrow-eyed glance.

suo’s tone brightened again. “just making sure no one ends up more bruised than they already are.”

he didn’t wait for a response — just turned and walked off, casually calling over his shoulder, “and don’t make me babysit the cleanup crew again.”

you sighed.

ren didn’t say anything at first. just turned back to the window.

“sorry,” you muttered, brushing your hand against your arm. “he’s… complicated.”

ren’s eyes flicked back toward the archway suo disappeared through. “yeah,” he said. “he is.”

another beat.

“but so are you.”

you looked at him, startled.

he didn’t elaborate.

instead, he pulled his headphones back over his ears — letting them rest, idle, playing some loud hop music. the lollipop returned to his mouth. he glanced at the counter.

“you did miss a spot, though.” he spoke a bit louder, basically shouting.

you couldn’t help the tiny laugh that escaped you.

outside, the orange-pink glow of early evening made everything look warmer than it felt. dust lifted in the air as hiragi, shirt halfway untucked, barked instructions at sakura — who promptly ignored him in favor of lifting an entire beam by himself. kiryu lounged on a bucket near the sidewalk, sipping from a convenience store soda and offering absolutely no help. nirei stood nearby wringing his hands, anxiously trying to keep track of how many trays had actually survived the earlier fight.

inside café pothos, things were quieter. not calm, but quieter.

you stood behind the counter with kotoha, sleeves rolled up, hands stacked full of bubble-wrapped ceramic mugs. she was reaching up to stock the top shelf when she asked, “these new trays feel lighter, right? i think they’re gonna fly out of my hand next time someone pisses me off.”

you laughed. “they probably will.”

“not a bad thing,” she added, smirking.

you rolled the edge of a dishcloth between your fingers. “…kotoha?”

“hm?”

you hesitated, then carefully said, “i might have to leave soon.”

“yeah, the sun’s going down.” she didn’t even glance at you, casually setting a mug on the shelf.

you smiled a little despite yourself. “no — not for the day. i mean town.”

that got her attention.

she turned. blinked. “…wait. what?”

“makochi,” you clarified. “i might have to leave makochi.”

the air shifted. not heavy. just… real.

kotoha slowly leaned her hip against the counter. “why?”

your fingers brushed a tray. you didn’t quite look at her when you answered. “it’s not official or anything. but… it happens. eventually.”

“why though?” her voice was quiet now. curious, not pressing.

your gaze drifted out the large front window.

outside, sakura tripped on the curb while trying to lift a folding sign. hiragi shouted at him, ren muttered something while shifting a crate single-handedly, and kiryu grinned while filming it on his phone. umemiya had joined in too, sleeves rolled up, carrying something far too heavy on one shoulder with an exaggerated “oiii— look at me go!” while taiga squawked at him to be careful before breaking something again.

your chest ached. fondness never hurt so softly.

“it’s because of suo,” you said quietly. “you already know i’m his little sister.”

kotoha turned fully to you now, eyes staring into yours.

you gave her a sheepish smile. “we don’t really tell people. not because we’re hiding it, but… it’s safer.”

she nodded slowly. “safer… because of gang stuff?”

“yeah,” you said. “it’s always been like this. he settles into a town, does his thing. then three months later, i show up. new job, new apartment. we keep a distance. but when people start putting it together, it becomes a problem.”

you swallowed.

“it makes me a weakness. makes him a target. and… it’s harder for him to do the things he loves — leading, fighting, helping. he’s always on guard when i’m around. and i hate that.”

you glanced at kotoha, half-expecting her to say something logical, or comforting, or lighthearted.

instead, she just followed your gaze again.

your eyes had found ren — crouched low now, one earphone slipped off, brows furrowed slightly as he fixed something to the storefront, lollipop tucked in the corner of his mouth.

kotoha watched for a second longer, then looked back at you. “…you’re not just sad about losing the job.”

you huffed out a soft laugh. “no. i’m not.”

“you like him.”

you smiled. “maybe.”

kotoha nudged you gently. “…he’s difficult.”

“so am i.”

“true.”

you sighed, tugging your sleeves back down. “it just sucks. i finally feel like i found a place i want to stay.”

kotoha reached over and handed you another mug. “then maybe fight a little harder to keep it.”

you looked at her.

“you’ve already proven you can fight,” she said, smirking. “try doing it for yourself this time.”

outside, kiryu fell off the bucket mid-laugh.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

the café smelled like lemon cleaner and fresh coffee again — a miracle considering the week they’d just had. music played faintly from kotoha’s speaker, something mellow and wordless, curling through the shop like fog.

you leaned on the counter, wiping it in slow, pointless circles. your gaze had slipped again — out the front window, where the street looked golden and sleepy, as if nothing bad had ever happened here.

behind you, chairs scraped. footsteps — steady, deliberate.

you didn’t have to look to know it was ren.

you felt him long before you heard him.

he stopped beside you, leaning slightly on the counter with one forearm, his lollipop tucked in his mouth, bluetooth headphones snug over his ears. the light caught the white strands of his hair, but he didn’t speak right away.

just stood there. watching.

you broke the silence first. “you’re staring.”

“you’re sulking.”

you looked at him with half-lidded eyes. “am not.”

his tone didn’t shift — still flat, still calm — but you caught the subtle change in how long his gaze lingered. like he was trying to understand something he didn’t quite know how to ask about.

“kotoha said something to upset you?” he asked after a moment, nodding toward the back room. “or did nirei cry again and make it weird.”

you cracked a faint smile. “nirei cries at everything.”

“i don’t.”

“should i be worried if you ever do?”

“probably,” ren muttered, eyes back on you now.

the silence between you stretched again, not heavy — not uncomfortable. just full. like there were too many things you weren’t saying and not enough time to sort through them.

he nudged your arm slightly with his elbow. “you’re not usually this quiet.”

“i’m thinking.”

“stop.”

you laughed softly, but it faded too quick. your voice dropped. “what if i have to leave?”

he tilted his head a little, eyes narrowing just slightly behind the sharp white strands that fell into them. “are you?”

you hesitated. “maybe.”

“why?”

you looked at him — really looked — and this time, he didn’t look away.

you wondered what he’d say if you told him the truth. that you were someone’s sister. that you were a risk. that being here, liking someone, letting yourself belong — it all came at a price.

but instead, you said nothing. and still, somehow… he softened.

ren shifted his weight, dropping his head slightly to get a better view of your face. “don’t leave just because something scared you.”

your eyes widened a little. “i’m not scared.”

“then stop looking like you already said goodbye.”

his voice was still flat. his expression still unreadable.

but the words?

they weren’t cold at all.

just outside, leaning casually against a lamp post, suo watched the scene unfold through the window. his usual soft smile tugged more to one side, heavy with something like sadness… or maybe something closer to peace.

he saw the way your eyes met ren’s — that flicker of something vulnerable in your gaze, and the way ren didn’t move away from it this time.

he knew you were planning to leave. you’d told him that much. said it might be time.

but watching you now — your elbow nearly brushing ren’s, your mouth curved with half a smile you were trying not to show — he realized something else.

you weren’t leaving yet.

so he gave you this moment.

just this one.

and for now, that was enough.

you peeked at the clock on the wall above the pastry case — 7:42.

your fingers curled around the edge of the counter as you turned to ren. “my shift’s about over.”

he blinked. “…okay.”

you hesitated, heart beating a little faster than you were proud to admit. “would you walk me home?”

he didn’t answer right away — just looked at you, slightly wide-eyed like you’d asked him to hold your hand in front of everyone. then he nodded, slow and cool like he hadn’t just short-circuited internally.

“yeah. sure.”

you smiled and turned to unfasten your apron, reaching behind you for the strings. ren shifted slightly behind the counter — arms crossed, but his eyes dragged up without his permission.

he caught himself staring.

the apron string looped loosely from your fingers. your shirt caught the low light just right. your expression was soft, focused. and when you tossed the apron aside and looked up to grab your bag, his gaze flicked away — too fast, too obviously.

“ready?” you asked, tossing the strap over your shoulder.

he gave a small shrug, earbuds still snug over his ears, but the lollipop in his mouth shifted slightly as he started walking toward the door. “don’t get all dramatic if we get jumped again.”

you snorted as you locked up behind you. “you get jumped once and suddenly it’s your thing.”

he gave a sideways glance, amused. “i didn’t get jumped. you got jumped.”

“technically we were both in the building.”

“and technically i was standing behind five other people when it happened.”

“…wow. such a dependable bodyguard.”

“you want dependable, you should ask nirei.”

you laughed hard at that — really laughed — and ren, despite himself, looked proud.

the sky was still glowing, a fading mix of soft orange and dusty purple. your sneakers crunched lightly against the pavement as you walked side by side, the breeze tugging at your sleeves.

“so,” you said eventually, “do you always hang around people you’re assigned to like a weird ghost, or am i special?”

ren looked over at you, deadpan. “you’re special.”

you grinned.

“you also talk too much.”

“you’re just mad because i caught on.”

he didn’t deny it.

a quiet settled between you again. comfortable. familiar in a way neither of you wanted to name just yet.

you passed the vending machine outside the corner store — the one that always hummed a little too loud — and you kicked a small rock ahead of you, watching it bounce off a curb.

“i know why you show up,” you said softly.

ren glanced at you again, slower this time. “you do?”

“mm-hm.”

he didn’t ask what that reason was. didn’t offer one either. he just let the silence hold your words until you reached the narrow turn that led toward your building.

your steps slowed.

“i won’t tell anyone,” you said after a beat. “if you don’t.”

ren gave the faintest smile around his lollipop. “deal.”

you reached your door too soon.

you both stood there for a moment — too long to be casual, too quiet to be anything else.

then, a light breeze came and brushed by you both, giving you goosebumps. you had a quick thought of how this is the calmest the wind has blown since you’ve been here.

“thanks for walking me,” you said.

“wasn’t a walk. it was surveillance.”

you gave him a half-laugh, half-sigh. “whatever helps you sleep at night.”

his hand lifted halfway — maybe to wave, maybe to touch your arm, maybe nothing at all — but it fell back to his side.

you watched him turn and walk down the steps.

and just before he hit the sidewalk, he called over his shoulder, voice low:

“see you tomorrow, loudmouth.”

you smiled. “you better.”

the door clicked softly behind you.

the hallway was dim, painted gold by the last bits of sunset slipping through the curtains. your fingers loosened their grip on your bag, and your shoes made almost no sound against the wooden floor as you stepped further in.

then you saw him — suo.

he stood in the middle of the living room, arms already outstretched like he’d been waiting all day just to do that. he didn’t speak. didn’t smile.

he just waited.

you dropped your bag without thinking. it hit the floor with a soft thud, and you walked right into his arms, head tucking beneath his chin as his hold closed tight around you.

and suddenly — it hit you. all of it.

you inhaled shakily as your fingers clutched the back of his shirt.

this was it.

your last night in makochi.

you’d been putting it off for days, holding onto the hope that maybe this time it’d be different. maybe the peace would last. maybe ren— maybe you wouldn’t have to leave.

but the train tickets were already bought. your bag was half-packed in the closet. tomorrow night, you’d be boarding alone again. another city. another new start. another distance from your only real home — the boy currently holding you like he already missed you.

“i didn’t say anything earlier,” you murmured, voice muffled by his shoulder. “i didn’t wanna ruin the night.”

“i know.”

his voice was quiet. steady. but the hand on your back squeezed just a little tighter.

“you have to pack tonight, right?”

you nodded against him.

he let out a long breath. “then let’s do it together. like always.”

you nodded again, eyes burning.

this wasn’t the first time you’d moved. wasn’t the first time you had to say goodbye to the normalcy you’d finally begun to build. but it was the first time it hurt this much. the first time it felt like leaving meant leaving something unfinished.

someone unfinished.

ren.

and you hated that he didn’t even know.

you didn’t speak again for a while. neither did suo. you just stood there in the quiet warmth of your home, holding onto each other like you were both trying to memorize what it felt like before the next goodbye came too fast.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

the sound of the zipper echoed faintly through the room.

your suitcase lay open on your bed, half-filled with clothes, small toiletries, and folded fragments of the life you built in makochi — quiet pieces of the job you loved, the friends you started to make, the person you were beginning to become.

you were sitting cross-legged near the foot of the bed, folding your favorite hoodie. suo sat on the floor beside you, back leaning against the side of the mattress, a random roll of socks in his hands he hadn’t moved in five minutes.

neither of you had said anything in a while.

the fan buzzed gently from the ceiling. the world outside had gone still. it was one of those rare, silent nights where even the city seemed to respect what was about to be lost.

“remember when you tried to iron your uniform on the stove?” suo finally said, smile creeping into his voice.

you scoffed, chucking a shirt lightly at him. “it worked for like three seconds!”

he caught it and threw it back. “three seconds and then a fire alarm.”

you snorted. “we nearly got kicked out of the apartment—”

“we did get kicked out. you just cried so much the landlord gave us one more chance.”

“emotional damage is real,” you said, grinning softly.

he grinned back, arms resting on his knees now, head tilted as he looked around the room like he was already missing it.

“feels like we just got here,” he said after a moment, voice lower now. “you were finally settling in… kotoha likes you. the guys were getting used to seeing you.”

you swallowed the lump in your throat. “i know.”

he leaned his head back against the bed frame. “i hate that this is how it always goes.”

“me too.”

you folded another shirt. your hands moved automatically now. everything was familiar. you knew which clothes were yours without looking. you knew which ones you wouldn’t wear but couldn’t bear to leave behind. and you knew exactly what was going to happen once that train left the station.

another temporary version of you would disappear.

“i’ll miss the café,” you said. “the mugs. kotoha’s ridiculous apron collection.”

“i’ll miss her death stares every time i visit.”

you laughed gently.

“what about the boys?” suo asked, nudging your arm. “gonna miss them?”

you looked down. hesitated. “…maybe.”

“‘maybe,’ she says,” he teased, but you could hear the shift in his tone.

he didn’t say anything about ren.

he didn’t have to.

instead, he leaned over and gently bumped his shoulder against yours.

“we’re always gonna be like this, you know,” he said. “just the two of us. place to place. staying only long enough for something good to start before we have to leave again.”

you looked over at him. “isn’t that the worst part?”

his eyes softened.

“yeah,” he said quietly. “it really is.”

you didn’t finish packing that night. not completely. you let the zipper stay open and the light stay on. you laid back on the bed while suo stretched out on the floor beside it, arms folded behind his head, the silence between you comfortable in its familiarity.

no more words were needed. because what hadn’t been said was already understood:

you were leaving tomorrow.

but tonight — tonight — was still yours.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

the sun hadn’t fully risen when you made your way to café pothos. the streets were mostly empty, a few tired shopkeepers beginning their routines, the air still crisp from the night before. you walked slower than usual, each step heavy with the weight of your decision.

you held your small bag close to your side as you pushed open the café door.

inside, it was quieter than usual. kotoha stood behind the counter, already dressed in her apron, clutching a coffee mug like it was her lifeline. her eyes lit up when she saw you — but only for a moment.

then they glossed over.

“you’re really leaving,” she said, setting the mug down and pulling you into a tight hug before you could even respond.

“my train’s in a few hours,” you murmured into her shoulder.

kotoha sniffled — loudly. “you’re not allowed to leave unless you take me with you. you know that, right?”

you chuckled. “i’ll carry you in my suitcase if you can survive being crammed between three hoodies and my toothbrush.”

“that sounds like luxury to me right now,” she sniffed dramatically, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “ugh, i hate this part. i like you, you know? that never happens.”

you laughed, throat tight. “i like you too.”

kotoha walked around the counter and handed you an envelope. “your last check. but i added in a little more because i emotionally manipulated myself into thinking you deserve it.”

“i’ll take your pity pay,” you teased, but your fingers curled tightly around the envelope.

you lingered at the door for a moment, glancing around the shop, memorizing every corner, every misplaced mug. “thank you for everything.”

“don’t,” kotoha choked, waving you off. “i’ll sob harder.”

you stepped outside just as the bells on the café door chimed behind you again.

“yo!”

your heart lurched.

bofurin was arriving — umemiya leading the pack, his hands behind his head like usual, sakura yawning with his two-toned hair ruffled from sleep, and the rest all tumbling in like loud chaos incarnate.

“you’re early,” mitsuki chirped with a grin.

“did you just get off shift?” hiragi asked, sharp teeth peeking through a half-smirk.

you smiled. “actually… i came to say goodbye.”

their footsteps slowed, the door barely swinging shut behind them. all of them froze.

“what?” nirei gasped, eyes immediately panicking.

you stepped forward, arms out, and pulled nirei into a tight hug first.

he squeaked like a kettle boiling over.

“w-whoa—wait, i didn’t mentally prepare for affection—”

“bye, nirei,” you whispered, smiling.

he was beet red by the time you let go.

you moved next to kiryu, who lazily opened his arms like it was routine.

“guess i’ll let you hug me. just once,” he said with a teasing grin.

you rolled your eyes and gave him a quick squeeze.

“do i get a hug?” umemiya asked, already opening his arms wide with the biggest smile.

you didn’t hesitate, and he practically lifted you off the ground, spinning once dramatically before setting you down. “take care of yourself, little café sunshine.”

you saluted with a laugh. sakura, next in line, was already breaking into a sweat.

“uh—i-i mean, it’s okay, you don’t have to—i’m not very good with—”

you hugged him anyway, quick but warm.

his entire brain short-circuited. “g-girl hug… real girl hug…”

“bye, sakura.”

then… ren.

he stood off to the side, arms crossed loosely over his chest, that usual cold, unreadable expression settled over his features. he didn’t say anything — just watched you approach the others, watched you laugh and smile and hug everyone else. and then… walk right past him.

you didn’t say a word.

not because you didn’t want to.

but because you couldn’t.

there was too much in your chest. too much you’d regret. too much you wanted to say that would catch in your throat if you tried. so you skipped him — not out of cruelty, but out of fear that if you even touched him, you wouldn’t be able to walk away.

behind you, ren’s jaw tensed ever so slightly. he turned his head just enough to hide the flicker of something bitter across his face. he didn’t speak. didn’t ask why. didn’t move.

but when the door finally shut behind you — bells ringing one last time — his fists were clenched in his pockets, knuckles aching.

umemiya nudged him with an elbow.

“dude… she hugged sakura.”

“shut up,” ren muttered, already in a bad mood he couldn’t explain.

the bell above the café door jingled softly again as bofurin filtered in fully now, kicking off shoes and stretching like it was just another rowdy morning.

“man, what was that about?” kiryu asked as he leaned over the counter, still lazily chewing gum. “she hugged everyone like it was a funeral or something.”

“right?” umemiya chuckled, heading toward the back to grab an apron. “she said goodbye like she’s not coming in tomorrow. kotoha, she switching shifts or something?”

he didn’t notice at first, but the café had gone oddly quiet.

kotoha’s back was turned to them, sleeves rolled up as she adjusted the espresso machine, meticulously checking dials she had already looked at twice that morning.

umemiya looked over. “yo, kotoha?”

she didn’t turn around. “mm?”

“she’s not switching shifts?”

“nope.”

“so what’s the dramatic goodbye for?”

kotoha’s fingers hesitated slightly on the machine’s switch. but she flicked it anyway and replied with forced brightness, “maybe she just wanted a dramatic moment. she’s like that.”

kiryu raised an eyebrow. “she forgot to hug ren. that’s not dramatic. that’s cold.”

ren didn’t comment. still standing near the wall where he’d been before, arms folded, lollipop now in his mouth again like a shield. but something about him felt heavier.

umemiya flopped into a chair, long legs swinging out. “that’s weird though, right? even for her. she usually walks in with snacks or something, not existential dread.”

“kotoha,” hiragi said slowly, his eyes narrowing with suspicion, “what aren’t you telling us?”

kotoha finally turned. her face was calm, but her grip on the dish towel was tight. “she just… wanted to make the most of today. that’s all.”

“that sounds like something people say before a funeral,” nirei muttered under his breath.

kiryu leaned over the counter. “so she’s not coming back?”

“kiri—” kotoha warned.

he lifted a hand in mock surrender. “i’m just saying! you’re being weird. she’s being weird. everyone’s being weird.”

umemiya narrowed his eyes. “wait… is she leaving?”

kotoha’s mouth opened—then shut again. her lips pressed together as she dried the same mug for a third time.

“i promised,” she finally said, soft but firm.

that made the entire café fall still.

sakura blinked at her. “…promised what?”

but kotoha had already turned her back to them again, shoulders squared, busying herself with a tray of clean mugs.

no one pushed her further.

but every single one of them, in their own way, began to piece something together.

and ren… ren didn’t move from where he stood, eyes locked on the door you had just walked out of, your absence pressing into him like a weight he hadn’t agreed to carry.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

the sky above makochi was already turning a heavy shade of blue-black, clouds low and swollen with warning. streetlights buzzed faintly as you made your way back through furin territory, a plastic bag swinging at your side, stuffed with last-minute impulse buys from your favorite shops. a charm keychain, a warm drink from the convenience store, a sticker you didn’t need.

the corners you walked were familiar now — the vending machines, the bent street signs, the stray cat that always hid behind the tobacco shop. you memorized them without meaning to.

you reached café pothos just as the wind began to pick up, rustling the row of potted plants kotoha always fussed over.

the inside was warm. the lights were low. and there they were — kotoha wiping down the counter, and suo leaning back in a chair with a lukewarm drink in hand.

kotoha looked up first.

“you came back,” she smiled, setting the rag down and walking toward you. “didn’t expect you to.”

you gave her a soft laugh. “i wanted to see you both one more time.”

suo set his drink aside, arms open like he had been waiting. “we’re not dying, y’know.”

you walked into his hug anyway.

“kotoha told me you bought out half the shopping district,” he murmured with a smile as you pressed your forehead to his shoulder.

“might as well stimulate the economy on my way out,” you mumbled.

kotoha leaned against the counter, arms crossed, but her expression was unusually soft. “you’re really going tonight?”

you nodded.

“the storm’s gonna be rough,” she warned, voice just a little quieter. “radio says the train might be delayed.”

“then i’ll wait it out.” you looked between them. “but i need to go.”

suo didn’t say anything at first. then: “if anything happens—”

“i’ll call,” you promised.

his jaw ticked slightly, but he nodded. “good.”

kotoha stepped in, pulling you into a rare hug, her arms tight. “you better. i mean it. i’ll kick your ass if you disappear and leave us wondering.”

you laughed, the sound muffled in her shoulder. “you’ll have to catch me first.”

the café door rattled slightly with the rising wind, the windows trembling just a little in their frames. it felt like the town itself was getting ready to let you go.

you stepped back from the hug, looking around at the quiet shop — every mug, every polished surface, every memory tucked into the corners.

and then you looked at them one last time.

“thank you. for everything.”

suo only gave you a nod, jaw tight.

kotoha tried for a smile. “go. before it gets worse.”

you turned to the door, pulling your coat tighter. but you paused before stepping out, glancing back one last time at the place that had slowly become your second home.

“bye.”

and with that, you stepped into the storm.

you hadn’t meant to run.

but the wind had other plans — fierce and sudden, pushing against your coat as you turned a corner, the street lights flickering with each gust. leaves and bits of litter spiraled across the pavement like they were trying to stop you, like they knew something you didn’t.

your shoes slapped against the sidewalk, damp from the drizzle that had just started falling. you clutched the strap of your bag tighter, eyes squinting up toward the clouds, watching as they swelled with something darker, heavier, inevitable.

by the time the station came into view, your breathing was uneven — not from the distance, but from everything building in your chest. the ache. the weight. the choice.

you slowed near the edge of the platform, pulling out your phone and checking the weather app with trembling fingers.

severe storm warning. flash flood potential. high winds. avoid travel unless necessary.

you bit the inside of your cheek, thumb hovering over the screen.

it was already starting to sting — your cheeks, your eyes. your throat tightened. the sky cracked faintly overhead.

“you’re really gonna go in this?”

your heart jumped.

you spun around so fast you nearly dropped your phone.

and there he was.

ren.

hood up, black coat tugged tighter around his frame, his white bluetooth headphones hanging slightly crooked over his ears — probably forgotten in the rush. and even now, in the rising wind, a lollipop was tucked in the corner of his mouth like it belonged there.

he wasn’t smirking. wasn’t teasing.

just… watching you.

calm. serious.

and it knocked the breath out of you.

“what are you—” you started, voice small against the howl of the wind.

“it’s not safe,” he said plainly, glancing up at the sky as if to prove his point. “you saw the warning.”

“i have to go,” you murmured, unsure if you were trying to convince him or yourself.

“why?”

that made you pause.

you hugged your arms around yourself, heart pounding like thunder in your ears. the station sign buzzed overhead. the screen flashed an alert about a delay.

“ren…”

he didn’t move closer. but something in his gaze softened — just barely.

“you’re not gonna make it out of town before the worst of it hits,” he said, voice lower now. steadier. “it’s not worth it.”

you blinked, raindrops clinging to your lashes now. “you don’t get it.”

“then make me get it.”

that stilled you.

he wasn’t asking as a fighter. or a classmate. or even the guy who’d been showing up at your café every day with barely concealed glances.

he was asking because he cared.

you looked down and gripped the train ticket tight in your hand, fingers trembling, the paper starting to warp from the moisture in the air. you hadn’t even realized ren was moving until he was right in front of you, his silhouette carved out by the hazy yellow of the station lights behind him.

the wind tossed your hair into your face as you glared at the ground, jaw clenched.

“you’re really still going?” his voice was low, but sharp. “even with the storm?”

you nodded, lips pressed into a thin line.

“why?!”

you looked up.

ren’s eyes were burning now, not with anger — with something heavier. “what about bofurin?” he asked, stepping forward despite the rain starting to fall. “what about kotoha? the café? your job?”

your heart pounded harder.

then — he said it.

“what about suo?”

you flinched.

and that’s when it snapped.

“he’s the reason i have to leave!”

the words burst out of you like thunder, loud and cracking, and ren froze.

you took a shaky breath, ticket now crumpled in your fist. “i’m tired, ren. i’m tired of being the reason he’s distracted. the reason he can’t focus. the reason other people look at him like he’s weak.”

the rain fell harder now — thick drops soaking into your clothes, your hair, your skin. neither of you moved to hide. the storm was already here.

“every time we settle, i follow him. three months later, always three. always careful. always behind. i sneak in and out of towns like a damn ghost just so i can see my brother and not ruin everything for him!”

ren’s brows pulled down. “your… brother?”

you nodded fiercely, tears mixing with the rain on your face. “suo is my brother. and because of that, every single gang that has beef with him uses me to get to him. i’ve been jumped twice already and this week was the worst yet. i’m not safe here, and he can’t protect me forever.”

you took a step back, barely catching your breath as lightning split across the sky.

“so i have to go. i have to leave before someone uses me again. before you get dragged into it. before everyone in bofurin starts suffering because i got too comfortable.”

ren was speechless.

drenched, stunned, and rooted to the ground.

you sniffled, trying to wipe the rain and tears from your face, but it was useless. your voice cracked, barely louder than the wind now.

“i don’t want to go.”

and that was the truth.

your lip quivered. “but i have to.”

the moment shattered between you like glass.

and suddenly, ren’s voice tore through the storm.

“you think i care about any of that?!”

you blinked, head snapping up.

he was yelling now, too — face twisted, soaked, desperate.

“you think i’d rather you leave just so you’re out of the way?! you think bofurin gives a damn about some messed up gang logic more than you being alive?!”

“i think you’d be safer without me—”

“then let me decide that!” his voice cracked. he jabbed a finger toward you, chest heaving. “you don’t get to choose what you mean to people! not to kotoha! not to suo! and not to me!”

your breath caught.

everything in you screamed to look away. to leave. to run. but you couldn’t.

not from him.

ren’s expression crumpled slightly, just for a second. his voice was still loud, but softer now. “you think this is what i want? watching you say goodbye like it’s nothing?”

the rain kept falling. the storm raged on.

and there you stood — two soaked silhouettes on a train platform that didn’t matter anymore.

“if you walk away now,” ren said, voice barely holding, “i’m not gonna follow you.”

your grip on the ticket loosened — just a little.

“but i’m not gonna forget either.”

you didn’t speak.

you couldn’t.

you were too afraid of what might come out next.

the station clock ticked on, unbothered by the chaos in your chest.

rain beat down in a relentless rhythm, pooling at your feet, soaking the edges of your jeans. your hair clung to your skin, cold and sticky, but all you could focus on was the boy in front of you — ren kaji, soaked to the bone, staring at you like the wind had knocked the breath out of him.

he still hadn’t moved since your outburst.

his eyes searched your face as if trying to rewind what had just happened. maybe he was still stuck on the word brother. maybe he hadn’t expected the truth. maybe he hadn’t expected you.

and in the breath between thunder and silence, you reached into your bag.

“here,” you said quietly, your voice raw from shouting, but soft now. gentle. like the eye of a storm.

he blinked as you held out a small, damp box — plain and simple, wrapped with care in brown paper and tied with a slightly frayed ribbon. it was a little crooked now, wet and struggling to hold shape in the downpour, but you cupped it carefully in your hands, as if that could protect it from the weather.

“what is it?” he asked, still breathless.

“don’t open it until after i leave.”

his brows furrowed. “what—”

“promise me.”

you stepped closer, the water sloshing beneath your shoes. the wind whipped between you like a warning, but you ignored it.

“just… please, ren. wait.”

he stared down at the box in your hands before reaching out — hesitant, like touching it might burn him. but his fingers brushed yours as he took it, and you felt the way his touch trembled.

you stared up at him.

and then you did the unthinkable.

you leaned in — slow, deliberate — and wrapped your arms around him.

ren stiffened.

completely and utterly still.

his body locked, unsure of where to put his arms, unsure if this was real, unsure if the warmth seeping through his soaked hoodie was something he was allowed to hold onto.

you buried your face into his chest, your fingers clutching the back of his shirt. it smelled like cold rain, like cheap detergent and mint from his lollipop, like something you would miss more than you could ever prepare for.

“i wasn’t supposed to fall for you.”

you said it barely above a whisper, but he heard every word.

his breath hitched.

you kept going.

“i was supposed to stay hidden. stay unnoticed. slip in, slip out. like always.”

your voice cracked.

“but then you started showing up. every day. and at first i thought it was just suo being stupid. but then you didn’t stop. and then you started looking at me like i was something worth protecting. and then i started hoping you’d come.”

his arms twitched at his sides.

“you’d show up, headphones on, lollipop in your mouth, pretending you weren’t paying attention, but i knew you were. i always knew.”

you could feel your tears falling again, mingling with the rain. it didn’t matter now. there was nothing left to hide.

“i’ve never had a place. i’ve never had people. it’s always just been me and my brother, never staying long enough to matter. but this time… i let myself believe i could stay.”

you lifted your head just enough to look up at him, your hands sliding up to rest against his chest.

“you made me believe.”

ren was still frozen.

his jaw clenched, his lashes soaked. his eyes had this storm in them now — not anger. not confusion. something heavier. something raw.

you smiled through the tears, even though it hurt.

“you’re gonna be okay without me, ren.”

“stop saying that,” he whispered, barely audible.

“you are.”

and before he could say anything else, before he could stop you, you reached up and kissed his cheek.

slow.

tender.

trembling.

he flinched, not in a bad way — in a holy shit kind of way. like his entire body forgot how to breathe. like time bent in on itself and everything in his mind suddenly turned to you.

and when you pulled back, your foreheads touched.

the space between you and him shrank to nothing.

you could feel it. so could he.

his breath was shaky, lips parted, eyes half-lidded. yours were too.

it would’ve been so easy.

just one lean forward.

just a second.

just one kiss to anchor everything you’d said.

but then — the voice came over the intercom.

“last call for train 312 to akayama. please prepare for immediate boarding.”

your heart dropped.

you pulled back, slowly, painfully.

“that’s me,” you whispered, voice catching.

ren didn’t say anything. his eyes just stayed locked on yours like he could memorize you in the seconds he had left.

“goodbye, ren.”

and before he could move — before you could change your mind — you stepped back.

the distance opened like a chasm. wind howled between you. lightning cracked in the far distance.

and there he stood.

drenched. silent. still clutching the box like it might shatter.

he didn’t chase you.

he didn’t know how.

and so you turned and ran toward your platform, footsteps echoing against wet cement, the sound of your name dying in his throat before he could say it.

the streets were quieter now.

ren didn’t remember how long he’d been standing there, water dripping from his bangs, the station emptying around him. trains came and went. people passed. no one stopped for the boy who stood frozen in the storm, clutching a small, soggy box like it was all he had left.

his fingers were stiff as he finally moved — slowly walking until he found a small alcove across the street from the station, just enough shelter to sit down and not be drenched any worse than he already was.

his legs folded under him. he sat against the wall.

the box sat in his lap.

he stared at it for a while. the ribbon was undone from the wind, the paper soft and torn at the corners. he didn’t want to open it.

not really.

because opening it would mean you were really gone.

and part of him still thought this was some stupid dream. some prank. a cruel joke from the world.

but your voice still echoed in his head.

you made me believe.

his thumb brushed the edge of the lid.

he opened it.

inside — nestled with an almost obsessive amount of care — was a pair of brand-new headphones.

white, sleek, clean.

but with black cushions on the inside. not gaudy, not flashy. just enough to fit him.

he stared.

he didn’t realize he was holding his breath until his eyes flickered up to the headband and he saw it — tiny, etched with delicate precision into the underside.

his name.

kaji.

not “ren.” not “bofurin.”

just him.

his chest tightened.

and as he lifted them out, they shifted slightly — revealing what was underneath.

a bunch of individually wrapped lollipops spilled into his lap.

strawberry. cherry. berry. watermelon. his favorites.

every single one of them.

he swallowed.

the weight in his throat burned.

his fingers brushed past them, catching the edge of a folded paper. a note.

his name was written at the top — messy handwriting, a little waterstained, but still clear.

kaji,

if you’re reading this, then i guess i really gave it to you.

…shit.

okay well first off, don’t complain about the box, i worked really hard on it, and if it’s a little ugly it’s because the guy at the packaging store was a jerk and gave me the wrong size.

second — yes, i got you new headphones. because the ones you have now are scuffed and scratched and the wire’s fraying and they make you look like a cyberpunk grandma. and the all-white theme clashes with your hair, i’m sorry but it does.

a little black cushion was the least i could do for your style points.

…i don’t really know how to say any of this.

you’re hard to talk to. but not in a bad way. you’re just… you. you don’t say much, but you see everything. and you probably saw right through me from the beginning. i don’t know when it started. maybe when you first showed up to hover around me awkwardly. or when i caught you pulling gum wrappers out of my trash while pretending you were just checking the weather.

but you made me feel safe.

even when i didn’t want to admit it. even when i knew it was temporary.

i’ve been moving all my life. but this was the first place i didn’t want to leave. and a lot of that is because of you.

don’t let it go to your head.

a little, maybe.

okay a lot.

i’m sorry for not saying goodbye properly. but i didn’t think i could, if i looked at you any longer.

be safe, ren.

eat something other than candy once in a while.

and if you ever hear a new train whistle late at night — just know i’m probably out there. somewhere.

- y/n

his hands were trembling by the end.

he sat in silence, the words like ghosts pressing into his skin, each sentence heavier than the last.

his throat felt tight. his fingers curled around the paper like if he squeezed too hard it might disappear.

and for once, ren kaji — who always had a lollipop in his mouth, who wore his headphones to block the world out, who never looked twice at anything that didn’t involve bofurin — couldn’t pretend.

not anymore.

you were gone.

and he’d fallen in love.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

you stepped off the train.

a soft wind tugged gently at your coat, the kind of breeze that whispered against your skin — familiar, like a memory brushing past your cheek. it carried with it the scent of rain-soaked pavement, late summer air, and something warmer — something like home.

makochi.

you hadn’t said the name aloud in almost two years.

and yet here you were, standing on the platform again, with your suitcase at your side and a heart that hadn’t quite caught up to your body.

the streets hadn’t changed much. the corner flower stall still had sun-wilted hydrangeas, the vending machines still buzzed by the alley near the bridge, and the lamppost by the first crosswalk still flickered uncertainly despite being “fixed” several times before.

it didn’t feel like nothing had changed.

it felt like everything had waited.

your footsteps found the path without hesitation — past the small market, down the sloped street, until the soft gold lettering of a wooden sign caught your eye.

café pothos.

your breath caught.

you hesitated at the door, hand hovering just above the handle.

then you stepped in.

the scent hit you first. sharp, earthy coffee grounds and freshly cracked eggs. hints of caramelized onions and warm rice. a rush of warm air curled around you, like the space itself exhaled as you walked in.

“oh. my. god.” came a shriek.

you didn’t even get the chance to smile before kotoha launched herself from behind the counter, almost slipping on the edge of the rubber mat as she rushed toward you, arms wide like wings.

you barely had time to brace yourself before she threw herself into your arms, squeezing so tight your ribs groaned in protest.

“you’re back?! you didn’t tell us you were coming back, you little traitor—!”

“i wanted to surprise you,” you laughed, the sound catching slightly in your throat.

kotoha pulled back just enough to slap your arm — hard.

“we almost held a funeral, do you know that?! a full-on memorial, complete with black umbrellas and cupcakes.”

“cupcakes?” you blinked.

“well, you know. to make it cute.”

before you could respond, another figure approached from behind the counter.

suo.

he didn’t say anything right away — just stared for a second. his eyes softened almost immediately, that familiar smirk barely visible through the tightness in his jaw.

then he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you wordlessly.

your face buried in his shoulder, and for a moment — just a second — time folded in on itself.

you were fifteen again, holding onto him in a cramped apartment. sixteen, sitting across from him on the floor with takeout and nowhere to go. seventeen, saying goodbye at a train station you didn’t want to walk into.

and now.

two years later.

home again.

“you could’ve warned us,” suo mumbled into your hair. “i would’ve worn something cooler.”

you let out a watery laugh. “this is your coolest hoodie.”

he pulled back with a faux-offended glare, but kotoha cut in before he could start sulking.

“soooo…” she leaned in, eyes glinting with mischief. “what’s the plan, huh? just casually walk back in after two years and act like a certain someone hasn’t been coming in here like clockwork every afternoon like some moody anime character?”

your eyes widened slightly. “moody?”

“grumpy. broody. headphones on, hoodie up, silently drinking his iced coffee and pretending not to care while staring holes into the doorway.”

“…ren?” you asked, voice softer now.

kotoha gasped dramatically. “she speaks his name!!”

you gave her a flat look, but couldn’t stop the way your pulse kicked up.

suo shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, but even he couldn’t quite hide the way his eyes flicked toward the back of the café. “he’s been around.”

kotoha nodded. “he’s still the same. taller. sharper. still eats lollipops like it’s a religion. but you should’ve seen him the first few months after you left. like a kicked puppy, but, you know. a scary one.”

your hands clenched around the strap of your bag. “i don’t know if… if seeing me again is a good idea.”

“what? why?” kotoha blinked, voice losing some of its teasing edge.

you looked down at your feet.

“because two years is a long time. and we didn’t exactly say goodbye like we should have. and maybe he’s different now. maybe i am too. and maybe i left things too messy. i don’t know what he thinks. i don’t even know what i’ll say if—”

“relax,” suo cut in gently. “you don’t need to have some grand speech. just… be here.”

“he never stopped thinking about you,” kotoha added, voice soft for once. “you’re not the only one who’s nervous.”

you glanced between the two of them — your oldest constants. your roots.

your gaze flicked to the door.

you weren’t sure if you were ready.

but maybe that was okay.

because something about makochi — about this café, about them — reminded you that sometimes, the wind brought things back just as easily as it carried them away.

the bell above the café door chimed with a cheerful little ring, and the moment it did, chaos erupted.

“she’s here!!”

the voice came from none other than akihiko nirei, who nearly tripped over his own feet as he stumbled through the entrance, arms wide open and eyes already welling with tears. right behind him, mitsuki kiryu strolled in with his usual lazy grin, lollipop tucked into his cheek, while taiga tsugeura yelled something about how he owed him five bucks for actually showing up again.

“you’re really back!” haruka sakura exclaimed from the doorway, hair still split between black and white, eyes sharp and wide with disbelief. he stood stiff as a board for a second—then quickly started sweating nervously and waving both hands, “w-welcome back! i-i mean not that i missed you or anything!!”

toma hiragi, sharp teeth glinting as he smirked, gave you a nod, arms crossed as he leaned against the frame. “you’re still short,” he teased.

“and you’re still ugly,” you shot back, making everyone laugh.

hajime umemiya was the last to step in, towering with his usual calm, warm energy. his swept-back hair was the same, and as always, he ruffled your hair like a big brother would. “makin’ us all wait like that? tsk, so rude.”

you couldn’t help but laugh, arms full of hugs and your heart even fuller. they circled you one by one, some dramatic (nirei sobbing into your shoulder), some chill (kiryu offering you a lollipop instead of words), and some weirdly intense (sakura who still hadn’t stopped sweating).

you looked around as the noise settled slightly, your gaze scanning the group.

“wait… where’s…”

they already knew who you meant.

“ren and sakura had to finish patrol,” kiryu said casually, leaning back on a chair, “they took the long route. y’know how he is.”

your heart skipped, but you nodded, pretending like you weren’t mentally preparing yourself.

and then—

the bell chimed again.

a gust of warm wind slipped into the café, carrying with it the faintest scent of fresh rain and asphalt.

everyone turned.

your breath caught.

the door shut with a soft thud behind him.

and for a moment… no one said a thing.

ren kaji stood in the entryway like a ghost stepped out of memory — taller than you remembered, broader too. his snow-white hair was messier, a little longer, slightly damp from the humidity. his headphones—not the old scuffed white ones, but the black-cushioned ones you gave him—rested around his neck. a fresh lollipop was tucked between his lips, but the moment his eyes locked with yours… it dropped.

literally.

it hit the floor with a tiny click.

his gaze — sharp, unreadable, and entirely too intense — dragged across your face, over the curve of your shoulders, and lingered at your hands, as if confirming you were real. the silence roared in your ears.

you took a shaky breath.

“hey, ren.”

that was all it took.

his eyes narrowed, jaw clenching. he moved. slow at first, like even he didn’t know what he was doing. but each step came faster than the last, closing the distance between you and him. every second stretched thin with years of unsaid words, near-kisses, aching memories, and the weight of your absence pressing heavy on both your chests.

you didn’t back away.

you stepped forward.

and the moment your hand brushed his hoodie sleeve, his hand grabbed your wrist.

firm.

warm.

real.

“you left,” he said — voice low, hoarse, and sharp with something he couldn’t contain. “you left without helping me understand all the way.”

you blinked, heart pounding. “i explained.”

“not well enough.”

his voice cracked slightly, his grip tightening just enough to make you ache.

“you ran away like a coward. and now you’re just—here? like nothin’ happened?”

“i wasn’t safe here,” you murmured, stepping closer. “i was hurting people by staying.”

“you hurt me more by leaving.”

it hit you like a freight train. your breath caught.

he exhaled sharply, fingers loosening. “…i waited. every day. with those stupid headphones around my neck. every time i put ‘em on, it felt like you were right there whispering in my ear—like maybe you’d turn the corner or walk back through that door—”

his voice broke again.

“—but you never did.”

your eyes stung.

behind you, you could vaguely register the bofurin boys frozen in the background, wide-eyed, holding mugs mid-air or half-biting into snacks. kotoha’s jaw had dropped, her eyes darting between you two like she was watching a live drama.

“ren…” you whispered, your hand now resting over his.

his gaze dropped to your fingers, and when he looked back up — he didn’t speak.

he kissed you.

no warning.

no hesitation.

his hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you in as if you were about to disappear again — and he wasn’t going to let it happen this time. the kiss was rough, desperate, and soaked with two years of longing and bitterness and love that had no place to go.

your hands found his hoodie, gripping it like it was the only thing anchoring you to this moment.

when you finally pulled away, breathless and eyes wide, your foreheads touched — not in sadness this time, but in something painfully, beautifully new.

you were home.

and then—

“WHAT THE HELL?!!”

nirei dropped a tray.

kiryu choked on his lollipop.

tsugeura screamed. “YO—DID THEY JUST—???”

toma cursed under his breath, looking away dramatically.

“i KNEW IT—i called it—someone owes me a damn soda.”

sakura passed out.

kotoha threw a dish rag at both of you.

“FINALLY, MY GOD, DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG WE’VE BEEN WAITING—?!”

umemiya, cool as always, leaned over the counter and calmly sipped his iced coffee.

“…took ya long enough.”

ren didn’t even blink. still holding you, still looking at you like the rest of the world could burst into flames and he wouldn’t move.

and you?

you just smiled.

“…hi again.”

꒰ bonus ꒱

the sun was beginning to melt into the horizon, painting the lake in soft golds and sleepy oranges. the wind was light — just enough to kiss your cheek and rustle the hem of your shirt. birds skimmed the water, and the ripples danced in tune with the quiet laughter from the other side of the hill.

you walked beside ren in step, the gravel path crackling faintly under your shoes.

his hands were stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, his shoulders relaxed, eyes darting every so often to you like he didn’t quite believe you were still here.

“you know,” you said, looking up at the sky, “i used to sit in train stations just to people-watch. i’d imagine i was meeting someone… or being met by someone. kept thinking if i looked sad enough, you’d magically appear.”

ren snorted. “what, like some tragic drama heroine?”

“exactly.”

you grinned. “i was committed. i even cried one time just for effect.”

he raised a brow. “you’re ridiculous.”

“oh, please. like you didn’t do anything weird to cope.”

ren rolled his eyes — but there was a small blush blooming on his cheeks. “…i might’ve eaten your favorite candy until i couldn’t stand the taste anymore.”

your mouth fell open. “no. not the strawberry ones.”

“the strawberry ones,” he confirmed solemnly, staring ahead like it physically pained him. “to this day, i can’t smell one without hearing your dumb laugh in my head.”

you laughed. loudly. unrestrained.

and he smiled.

a real one. not a smirk, not a scoff — just that rare, quiet stretch of his lips that softened every sharp edge of him. and it was yours.

you both paused at a clearing, where the view of the lake stretched endlessly, catching sunlight like glass. from where you stood, you could hear the familiar chaos of the others behind the hill — umemiya shouting at tsugeura to stop pushing people into the water, kiryu cackling with a half-drenched kotoha, and nirei wailing about his soaked socks while toma threatened to throw him in again.

you glanced toward them, eyes warm.

“they haven’t changed,” you said fondly.

“nope,” ren replied, nudging you with his shoulder. “but you came back.”

you glanced at him. “i missed you.”

“i missed you more.”

you squinted. “liar.”

“prove it.”

you smirked. “okay. i once tried to draw your face from memory. turns out i’m horrible at noses. the sketch looked like an angry turnip.”

he burst out laughing. an actual laugh — rough and loud and so good you wanted to bottle the sound and keep it forever.

“an angry turnip?” he wheezed.

you nodded, cheeks warm. “i burned it. ceremoniously.”

ren shook his head, eyes crinkling.

“…i tried writing you a letter once. couldn’t finish it. got pissed halfway through and tore it up.”

“aww. was it sweet?”

“no,” he said quickly. “i called you an idiot like four times.”

you both fell into soft laughter again, standing still as the breeze swirled between you, carrying the scent of the lake and distant flowers. the sun dipped lower, setting everything around you aglow.

after a beat, you stepped closer, letting your hand brush his.

he didn’t flinch away.

“…do you think it’s okay?” you asked softly. “for me to stay this time?”

ren didn’t answer right away. instead, he turned, slowly, to face you.

“if you go,” he said quietly, “i’m coming with you.”

your breath caught.

“but,” he added, a little softer, “if you stay… i’ll be here. every day. with the dumb headphones. and your favorite candy. and that stupid look on my face every time you laugh.”

you blinked at him, completely still.

he tilted his head. “your choice. but i’m not letting you disappear again.”

your chest ached in the best way.

you reached out, lacing your fingers with his — and this time, he held on tight.

“i’ll stay,” you whispered, smiling. “for the dumb headphones.”

his eyes narrowed. “you’re the worst.”

“and yet—” you bumped your shoulder against his, “you’re still smiling.”

“…shut up.”

but he didn’t let go.

and somewhere behind the hill, nirei let out a dramatic gasp, shouting,

“GUYS I THINK THEY’RE HOLDING HANDS—”

“shut UP!” came kotoha’s yell, immediately followed by a splash and umemiya’s proud cheer.

you turned back to ren, laughing once more.

and as the wind rolled in again, soft and perfect, you leaned into each other.

not a goodbye.

not a beginning.

just… a continuation.

💬, thank you to EVERYONE!!! i honestly felt bad about this story, i felt like it was going so bad and i wasnt writing it good enough but yall helped me feel so much better!! ima give yall a big fat wet kiss on the lips, yall are so amazing 🫶🏼 thank you guys so much for the support on this story !!! AHHHH THE EEENNNNDDD also please dont be afraid to request things!! i do write for any anime !!! lwk might try DS next or HXH 😛

🔖 everyone who was patient : @cristalania @gieeee @sinamew @poppyflower-22 @icangiveyoumyeverything @choppedballoondetective

#windbreaker x reader #wind breaker x reader #I ADORED THIS SO MUCH #I CRIED SO MUCH #pls your writing is amazing #MY HEART IS SO FULL #I’m so attached #Ren Kaji my beloved

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mahanoormoon · 6 days ago

Text

WHEN THE WIND CHANGES

𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐊𝐀𝐉𝐈 word count :: ( 12,736 ) genre :: fluffyyy, angsty, gore, && slow burn content contains :: stabbing/cutting, knives, bats, fighting, pretty much just regular bofurin behavior part two right here !!

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

the wind carried dust here. that was the first thing you noticed.

it wasn’t unpleasant, just… constant. it pulled through the narrow side streets like it belonged there, brushing across the rows of old signage and iron shutters. it moved past the bus stop you’d stepped off at only twenty minutes ago, weaving between your hair like it had known you long before you arrived.

welcome to the town, it seemed to whisper.

you adjusted the strap of your bag higher on your shoulder, eyes tracking the way light filtered through the gaps in the shop awnings ahead. the air felt different here—cleaner than the city, quieter than what you were used to. buildings pressed close together, but not in a suffocating way. more like neighbors leaning in to chat.

you turned the corner and spotted the café sign exactly where kotoha said it would be.

“coffee + bread + peace” was scrawled in white paint across the windowpane, accompanied by a few drawn-on flowers that looked like they’d been added by a bored customer rather than the staff. the wooden door creaked slightly as you opened it, the bell above it chiming with a bright, high note.

the inside smelled like flour and something citrusy—maybe lemon zest?—and faintly of brewed espresso. a few customers dotted the tables, mostly older locals flipping through newspapers or looking out the window. the café wasn’t large, but it had that lived-in warmth. faded tile, a long wooden counter, shelves stacked with mismatched mugs.

and behind the counter, drying her hands on a dish towel, was kotoha tachibana.

“right on time,” she said, offering you a crooked smile. “that bodes well.”

she didn’t offer a handshake—just gestured with her chin for you to come around the back. you stepped into the space behind the counter and tried not to look too stiff, though your nerves prickled at the base of your neck. kotoha noticed. of course she did.

“relax,” she said, throwing the towel over her shoulder. “this isn’t tokyo. you’re not getting graded.”

you gave a quiet laugh. “i’ve just never worked front-of-house before.”

“well,” she said, opening a drawer and pulling out a small notepad and an apron, “you’re lucky. we don’t get a ton of customers unless it’s a fight weekend or the after-school rush. but you’re mostly working the morning and mid-day shifts with me, so it’s just sleepy people who want carbs and caffeine.”

you tied the apron around your waist as she handed you the notepad. it had doodles on it—stars, little knives, what looked like a frog with an eye patch. she noticed where you were looking.

“yeah,” she said dryly. “we get characters in here.”

you were about to ask her to elaborate when the bell above the door jingled again. kotoha glanced up, and something shifted subtly in her posture—not nervousness, but a flicker of awareness.

you turned, half out of instinct, and saw him.

he walked in like someone who didn’t want to be noticed but still managed to draw every gaze. tall. sharp features. his school uniform hung neatly on his frame—jacket buttoned, sleeves just slightly rolled to the wrist. a satchel slung over one shoulder, white headphones resting loosely around his neck.

but it was the hair you noticed first—white, almost silver under the café lights, cut in a clean style that somehow made him look more untouchable than elegant. like snow that hadn’t been stepped on.

you were trying to remember his name, you’d seen his face before—on a blurry photo on your brother’s phone, half-obscured behind a crowd of uniformed fighters and bloody knuckles.

ren kaji.

he approached the counter without glancing at either of you. his voice was low when he spoke, barely above the hum of the coffee machine.

“coffee. black. medium.”

kotoha was already moving to fill the order, but not without rolling her eyes. “still pretending you have no personality?”

he didn’t respond. just placed a few coins on the counter and waited, expression unreadable.

kotoha handed you the cup to pass over. a test, maybe. you stepped forward, setting the paper cup in front of him with a quiet “here.”

he didn’t look at you right away—just picked up the cup, glanced at the lid. then his eyes flicked to your face, brief and unreadable. not rude. not curious. just… sizing you up. like a fighter checking their opponent’s stance before making a move.

“new?” he asked.

you blinked. “uh. yeah. first day.”

he nodded once, barely perceptible. then turned and left without another word, the bell jingling behind him again as he disappeared back into the morning.

kotoha leaned her elbows on the counter, watching you. “that,” she said, “was the local ice cube.”

you snorted. “ren kaji, right?”

she raised an eyebrow, mildly impressed. “oh, so you’ve heard.”

you shrugged. “just… stuff my brother’s mentioned.”

she didn’t press. but the way her gaze lingered on you for a second longer told you she was doing the math in her head. your name. your features. the vague familiarity.

she let it go. for now.

“don’t worry about him,” she said, turning to grab a tray of pastries. “he only gets chatty when someone bleeds on the sidewalk.”

you weren’t sure why that made you smile.

the café had quieted again. a late morning lull, sunlight falling in warm strips across the floor. the last rush of customers had filtered out half an hour ago, leaving only the sound of utensils clinking in the sink and kotoha humming under her breath as she restocked the pastry case.

you leaned on the counter, flipping the pencil in your hand. there was a question on your tongue — something small, something about the old coffee grinder that kept sputtering like it was holding its breath — but you hesitated before asking.

kotoha caught the look.

“you’re thinking too hard,” she said without looking up. “dangerous habit around here.”

you smiled, tapping the eraser of your pencil against the notepad.

“is it always this quiet between ten and noon?”

“pretty much,” she replied, sliding a tray of lemon scones onto the shelf. “except when the school lets out early. or when—”

the bell above the door interrupted her.

your gaze shifted. six figures pushed through the doorway in a chaotic tangle of voices, bruises, and swagger. they moved like a pack that had barely just survived something. and by the looks of them, they had.

you recognized a few of them instantly from your brother’s old texts and the way he’d talk about his squad when he thought you weren’t listening.

leading the chaos, all cracked grin and split knuckles, was hajime umemiya—the school’s top fighter and walking hurricane. bruised jaw, red-stained collar, eyes alight like he’d just had the time of his life.

he was already calling out before the door had finished swinging shut.

“kotohaaaa~! i saw the light of my life through the window, so i brought offerings!”

kotoha didn’t even blink.

“if the offering’s more of your busted ribs, i’m locking you out.”

umemiya made a dramatic show of clutching his chest. “my own sister, turning me away wounded? and after all we’ve been through—”

“you mean the group home and your weekly habit of bleeding on my floor?”

“exactly! sentiment!”

kotoha side-stepped him with ease, already grabbing cups and prepping the regular orders.

just behind umemiya came toma hiragi, who looked like someone had been dragging him out of a fight five seconds ago and he was mad it ended early. his spiked, pointed hair stuck out like he’d walked through an electrical storm, and the way he flashed his sharp teeth when he laughed was downright feral.

next to him, in complete contrast, was mitsuki kiryu—cool as ever, even with blood still drying on his knuckles. his long, pink hair was swept back, and his smile was soft, lazy, like he didn’t have a single care in the world.

“we live to see another day,” he said cheerfully, voice smooth, as he leaned on the counter like he came here just for the good vibes.

his chin piercing glinted faintly, and the two eyebrow piercings caught the light every time he tilted his head.

he looked like a guy who fought before breakfast and then came here for dessert.

“kiryu,” kotoha said, glancing at his hand. “are you bleeding or just decorating?”

“just a little bit of both,” he replied with a grin. “adds character.”

“stop bleeding on the napkin dispensers.”

“yes, ma’am.”

taiga tsugeura crashed into a chair, groaning dramatically as he held the back of his head.

“i swear, that guy came outta nowhere—”

“you elbowed a cop car,” kiryu noted helpfully, still smiling.

bringing up the rear was akihiko nirei, who looked like he was five seconds away from dissolving into a puddle of stress.

“can we—can we please not get banned from every café within a ten-mile radius,” he stammered, voice high and tight as he hovered near the door. “i like this one. it’s clean. and normal. and it doesn’t smell like hospital floors.”

“you’re bleeding on the floor again,” he added to umemiya, half-gasping, half-resigned.

“you’re welcome,” umemiya beamed.

as the rest of them settled into their usual corner of the café, one figure split off from the group—quietly, like it was nothing unusual.

suo.

he moved with that calm step of his, hands in his pockets, shoulders relaxed despite the bruising along his cheek. he passed right by everyone and came straight to you, eyes already softening the moment they met yours.

“you settling in okay?” he asked, voice low and even. “kotoha’s not working you too hard, is she?”

you blinked, then smiled. “not yet.”

he chuckled under his breath. “good. she means well, but she’s relentless if you mess up a milk foam pattern.”

you snorted. “noted.”

he reached over and adjusted the edge of your apron—slightly crooked from earlier—like it was the most natural thing in the world. and just like that, the café went completely still.

someone dropped a spoon.

“…what the hell,” taiga whispered, stunned.

“is he flirting?” kiryu asked with a lazy smile, like he was just enjoying the drama.

“maybe she’s like… an undercover boss,” nirei muttered, panicking slightly. “oh my god, what if we’ve all been rude to the boss’s niece or something—i’m gonna die—”

“she’s probably his ex,” hiragi said, fangs showing through a sly grin. “and this is their redemption arc.”

“no, no, time traveler,” umemiya said, serious. “i feel it in my heart.”

you tried to hide your laugh, but it almost slipped out. suo caught it. his smile lingered for half a second longer before he gave your shoulder a light pat and turned away to join the others like nothing had happened.

kotoha, halfway through steaming milk, had gone completely still.

her eyes flicked from you, to suo’s back, then to you again. she studied your face, quietly. your eyes. the curve of your nose. the way you stood when you were relaxed.

something clicked in her head.

not the whole picture. not yet.

but something.

“…huh,” she muttered under her breath.

you didn’t ask what she meant.

but you knew she was gonna be watching you for the rest of the shift.

a few minutes after the drinks were delivered, you slipped out the back door with the tray still in your hands, heart tapping a little too fast.

you figured he’d follow.

and he did.

the alley behind café pothos was quiet, shaded, the stone steps still slick from the last night’s rain. a few pots of herbs lined the ledge, kotoha’s quiet handiwork—some mint, rosemary, little seedlings of basil stretching toward the sun. the only sound was the soft hum of the city waking up and the faint clatter of mugs inside.

suo joined you without speaking at first. he leaned against the wall, arms crossed, the same easy smile on his lips that he wore when he was holding back too much.

you exhaled slowly.

“you know they’re going to keep talking about it now.”

“yeah,” he said, watching a pigeon flutter onto the fence. “they definitely are.”

a moment passed.

“we should’ve just told them,” you murmured, “that you’re my brother. would’ve been easier.”

suo shook his head. “nah. not yet.”

you turned to him.

“i’m serious,” he said, softer now. “not because i’m ashamed or anything. it’s just… you know what kind of reputation bofurin has. you deserve to settle in here without people immediately labeling you as ‘suo’s sister’.”

you frowned.

“i’m not saying hide it forever. just—give it time. let them meet you as you first.”

you hesitated, then nodded. you understood. he always tried to protect you, even if it came off a little overbearing.

“you always do this,” you said lightly. “play the older brother and the secret agent.”

“someone’s gotta.”

you huffed a small laugh, and his smile returned. the quiet kind. the one that didn’t show his teeth but always reached his eyes.

you were about to say something else—something grateful, maybe—when his hand suddenly reached your shoulder, steady but firm.

“don’t look,” he murmured. “but sakura and ren are headed this way.”

your stomach jolted slightly, though you weren’t sure why.

“from the front?”

“yeah.”

he stood straighter now, hand still on your shoulder, tone shifting into something more serious. not urgent. just… protective.

“you’re safe now,” he said, louder, with intention behind it. “don’t worry about earlier. just head back inside and finish your shift.”

you blinked at him, half confused—half catching on.

he wasn’t speaking to you, not really.

he was speaking for them to hear.

as if he’d just come outside to deal with something dangerous. as if you were the problem. or the victim. or maybe both.

and from the corner of your eye, you caught a flash of them across the street, getting closer—

haruka sakura, with his half-white, half-black hair and mismatched eyes—one pale gray, one gold-bright like the sun had cracked open in it. he moved like someone who lived inside tension. unreadable. sharp without trying to be.

and next to him—

ren kaji.

headphones around his neck. white hair slightly windblown. shoulders squared but not stiff. unreadable in a quieter way. like nothing really got to him. eyes scanning every corner without a flicker of judgment. just… watching. calculating.

you swallowed hard, then nodded quickly to suo.

“right. thanks,” you said, voice pitched slightly higher like you were just another stranger brushing off a favor. “i’ll, uh… i’ll get back to work.”

he gave your shoulder a final pat, then stepped back toward the wall like he hadn’t just staged a full cover-up.

you ducked inside, face burning as the door swung shut behind you.

as you passed kotoha, she raised an eyebrow.

“…you okay?”

“yep.”

she stared.

you started reorganizing the sugar packets like your life depended on it.

outside, you could just barely hear the murmur of sakura’s voice, low and bored, and another voice answering—deeper, steadier.

you didn’t have to look to know it was ren.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

the walk to café pothos was quiet, the way ren preferred it.

the breeze tugged at his hoodie sleeve. the sky above the city was bright but not glaring, a soft kind of warmth pressing into his shoulders. across the street, signs flipped from “closed” to “open,” and the rustling of late morning passed around him like water.

beside him, haruka sakura walked with that usual tension in his frame. eyes half-lidded. expression unreadable. the black and white split of his hair swayed in time with his stride, the corner of his gray eye catching the light like a cut of steel.

he didn’t say much.

he never did.

ren didn’t mind. silence was fine with him.

they were nearly to the café when he noticed the movement out of the corner of his eye.

someone slipping out the side door. fast.

not running—but definitely leaving. with purpose. or nerves.

a girl. apron still on. tray under one arm.

he watched as she stepped back into the alley, and seconds later, someone else followed.

ren slowed.

“…that’s suo,” he murmured.

haruka barely blinked. “and?”

“and he’s got his hand on her shoulder.”

ren didn’t usually assign meaning to things he didn’t understand. but the look on suo’s face—

too still. too careful.

like he was playing a role. or protecting something no one else knew about.

the girl—whoever she was—nodded like she understood something unwritten. said something back. then turned on her heel and slipped back inside without even a glance their way.

her face was a little flushed.

the tray was gone.

ren tilted his head slightly.

suo lingered behind a few seconds longer, then leaned against the wall like he hadn’t just been acting strange.

ren didn’t say anything.

but he didn’t stop thinking about it, either.

the bell above the door jingled as he stepped into café pothos, letting the warm smell of espresso and sugar rush up to meet him.

the first thing he noticed was how many people were already there.

umemiya, arms flung dramatically across the back of the couch, blood still crusted at his jaw, was laughing about something.

hiragi, slouched sideways in a chair, was flashing teeth and flipping a teaspoon between his fingers.

kiryu sat perfectly still, grinning vaguely at the ceiling like he’d just discovered nirvana.

tsugeura had his head against the table, groaning.

nirei was pacing back and forth between the trash bin and the register like the entire café was one misstep from disaster.

“there’s blood on this table,” nirei hissed as they walked in. “literal blood. someone’s gonna call the health inspector. we’re doomed.”

“you say that every week,” kiryu offered, eyes still half-lidded.

ren let the door shut behind them.

he scanned the room once.

then found her.

you.

standing behind the counter. organizing sugar packets like your life depended on it. head ducked, shoulders just a little tense. not uncomfortable. not embarrassed. just… off.

like you were trying really hard to be invisible.

suo wasn’t looking at you anymore. in fact, he was fully back in the booth with the others, acting as if nothing strange had happened at all.

ren narrowed his eyes.

his fingers drifted up to the bluetooth headphones resting around his neck. white. sleek. no cord. just a quiet presence, like everything else about him.

he didn’t speak. not yet.

but something was weird.

and ren kaji noticed everything.

“you okay?” kotoha asked, eyeing the way you were fidgeting with the edge of your apron.

you nodded way too fast. “yep. totally. i’m gonna go take their orders.”

she gave you a look. “you sure?”

“yep.”

you were not.

but you had to do something. standing around trying not to glance at ren kaji was making it worse.

you grabbed your notepad and stepped out from behind the counter, weaving through tables until you reached the two boys still standing near the front.

sakura stiffened the second you got within three feet of them.

his eyes widened slightly, the gray one twitching, the honey-colored one darting to avoid direct eye contact. his posture suddenly looked like someone who’d just been caught in the middle of a crime scene.

“hi,” you said, polite. “can i take your orders?”

before you could even offer options, sakura’s entire face went red.

“HUH?! WH—ME?!”

he pointed at himself like you’d just insulted his entire bloodline. “w-wait—i didn’t—I don’t know you!!”

you blinked. “right… i just meant if you wanted coffee—?”

“WHY WOULD I WANT COFFEE I DON’T EVEN KNOW YOU—WHY ARE YOU TALKING TO ME—”

he started sweating. “I’M GOOD!! KOTOHA USUALLY JUST—I MEAN—SHE—SHE DECIDES!! I DRINK WHATEVER!!”

“okay, okay—” you stepped back slightly, hands raised, trying not to laugh. “i’ll just—ask ren, then…”

sakura immediately turned around and muttered something about needing to go sit down before he exploded.

ren, in contrast, hadn’t moved. his bluetooth headphones sat around his neck, untouchable. he was just… staring. at you.

you tried to meet his gaze, but it was a little too direct. like he was watching your every breath for a secret.

“um… and for you?” you asked softly, pretending your pen wasn’t shaking.

he didn’t respond.

just stared.

again.

longer this time.

“ren,” umemiya called from the booth with a mouthful of cake, “stop acting like she stole your favorite manga. you’re making her nervous.”

ren blinked once. “wasn’t.”

“you so were,” umemiya laughed. “this is why you don’t get free samples. i’ll order for him. cold brew, oat milk, extra ice, no joy.”

you nodded, grateful. “got it.”

as you walked away, you glanced just once over your shoulder.

ren was still staring.

sakura had his head face-down on the table.

you stepped back behind the counter with your notepad in hand and your pulse doing laps in your throat.

kotoha was wiping a tray clean, but her eyes flicked up the second you crossed into her space.

she didn’t say anything at first. just passed you a small towel and gestured to the line of drink orders she was already halfway through.

you nodded and moved into place beside her.

but the silence was… expectant.

she finally spoke, voice low and even.

“…what did you do to sakura?”

you paused, hand hovering over the cold brew glass.

“what?” you asked, blinking.

“he’s in the booth with his head on the table. he hasn’t moved. looks like someone drop-kicked his pride.”

you stifled a smile. “i just asked him for his drink order.”

kotoha raised a brow. “that’s it?”

you nodded, pouring oat milk into ren’s coffee. “he exploded.”

“sounds about right,” she murmured. “he’s always been hopeless when a girl talks to him. but that was… worse than usual.”

you glanced toward the booth. sakura was still hunched over like a robot that had short-circuited mid-sentence. tsugeura was poking him with a straw and getting no response.

“maybe he’s sick,” you offered.

kotoha didn’t answer. she just turned, plated a slice of cake, and passed it to you.

“and what about ren?”

you blinked again. “what about him?”

“he stared at you like you’d committed a crime.”

“…i didn’t.”

“i know,” she said flatly. “but i’ve never seen him look at someone that long without saying a word. you’re either a ghost, or he’s trying to figure out if you’re a puzzle piece from a box he lost.”

you quietly slid the cold brew onto the tray.

“you sure you’ve never met any of them before?” she asked.

you kept your back to her as you reached for napkins.

“pretty sure.”

“mm.”

she didn’t believe you.

not entirely.

but she wasn’t pressing it yet, either.

“…you and suo have the same ears,” she said suddenly.

your hand froze midair. “what?”

“your ears. kind of stick out in the same way. and your jawlines are similar. your eyes are different, though. his look like he’s hiding a joke. yours look like you’re hiding a story.”

you turned slowly. “you’re really good at that.”

“working here means reading people,” she said, shrugging. “plus, i grew up with half that table. i know when something’s weird.”

you looked away, voice quieter.

“…so you think i’m weird?”

kotoha passed you a fork, smirking slightly.

“no. i think you’re hiding something. which is different. and more fun.”

you were about to answer when umemiya shouted from the booth.

“hey! pothos girls! we’re out of napkins and my cake’s lonely!”

kotoha rolled her eyes. “drama king.”

you reached for the tray. she handed it to you, fingers brushing yours.

“just so you know,” she said casually, “if you ever want to talk about whatever story your eyes are hiding—i’m a good listener.”

you smiled, small but sincere.

“thanks.”

“don’t thank me,” she said, flipping her out of her face. “you still have to serve a table full of sweaty fighters and one guy who hasn’t blinked since you walked in.”

you looked toward ren.

he was still staring.

you looked away just as fast.

you balanced the tray carefully as you approached the booth — cold brew, cake, napkins, and nerves all in one shaky grip.

the table was a mess of bodies and banter. umemiya was dramatically flopped across the bench like he’d just won a brawl against the entire concept of manners. tsugeura was arguing with hiragi over who bled more during the fight. kiryu was calmly sipping tea he didn’t order, looking like he hadn’t moved in hours. and nirei was still pacing nearby, muttering to himself about health codes.

sakura… had his face buried in his arms like the world was ending.

you stopped at the edge of the booth and cleared your throat gently. “cold brew, extra ice, oat milk, no joy?”

ren looked up.

not in surprise — just… acknowledgment.

you placed the drink in front of him and were about to pull your hand back when he didn’t take it.

he just stared at it. then at you.

then back at it.

you swallowed.

“it’s yours,” you said, a little softer.

“thanks,” he said finally, taking it without looking away.

you turned to set down the cake when umemiya clapped his hands loudly, grinning.

“look at her go. grace under pressure. how’s it feel, ren? being served by someone that flusters you?”

ren didn’t blink. “you’re loud.”

“i’m a people person.”

“you’re a hazard.”

“same thing.”

you were fighting a smile when kiryu chimed in without lifting his gaze from the steam rising off his cup.

“you’re handling us really well,” he said to you, voice low and lilting. “most people cry the first week.”

“not helping,” nirei hissed from somewhere behind you, still hovering. “don’t scare her, don’t scare her, oh god is that a hair on the cake?”

“that’s your own,” tsugeura grumbled.

you placed the last napkin on the table and nodded politely. “is there anything else i can get you?”

“yeah,” umemiya said, mouth full of frosting. “a new body. mine’s broken.”

“i’ll ask kotoha,” you said.

a low snort came from sakura’s side of the booth. he peeked up just enough to see your face again, then immediately slammed his head back down.

“don’t look at me,” he mumbled into the wood.

you turned to go, but paused when ren finally took a sip of the cold brew.

you glanced over your shoulder.

he was still watching you.

expression unreadable.

like he was trying to place a song he’d only ever heard in a dream.

you quickly looked away.

and tried not to run back to the counter.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

the light had turned golden.

the kind of golden that made the windows of the café glow soft and syrupy, like the world was being dipped in warm honey. even the chipped mugs on the counter looked kind of magical in it.

you were wiping down a table with half-dried latte art when kotoha’s voice cut through the haze.

“alright,” she called out, hands on hips, “last call was twenty minutes ago. you’ve all had sugar and caffeine. get out.”

“but my legs are jelly,” umemiya whined dramatically, slumping across the booth like he was about to become part of the upholstery.

“my heart still hurts,” sakura muttered, face still half-hidden by the table.

“my brain is overheating,” nirei added, clutching his temple.

“you guys bled on the sidewalk and then bled on my floor,” kotoha snapped. “you think i’m scared of your feelings?”

“kinda,” tsugeura said under his breath.

“out.”

“you’re so cold,” umemiya mumbled.

“and i’ll be even colder if you don’t move.”

there was a slow shuffle of resistance — bags being slung over shoulders, empty plates reluctantly abandoned, cracked knuckles and mock groans filling the air.

you were about to collect the last mug when suo brushed past the others and walked over to your side.

you looked up, and he was already smiling — soft, familiar.

“i’ll wait for you outside,” he said simply, low enough that only you could hear.

your fingers curled around the handle of the mug. “you sure?”

he nodded once, calm as always.

then added, “don’t take too long. i don’t want you walking alone in the dark.”

you bit the inside of your cheek, a small warmth flickering in your chest.

“okay,” you said. “just a few more minutes.”

he nodded again, gave you a little shoulder tap, and turned to slip out the front door — just as ren stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder, and caught the tail end of your conversation.

he didn’t say anything.

but his eyes followed suo’s back as it disappeared out into the dusk.

and then flicked right back to you.

silent.

searching.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

the sun was gone.

the streets were washed in indigo, and the streetlights buzzed faintly overhead, casting stretched shadows across the pavement.

ren walked with his hands in his pockets, white bluetooth headphones hanging loosely around his neck. no music played — he hadn’t turned them on once since he left the café.

he could still hear the dull echo of laughter behind him. pothos closing for the night, kotoha’s sharp voice snapping at umemiya to stop leaning on the doorframe. usual stuff.

he should’ve tuned it out.

he usually did.

but tonight, something felt… off.

he passed the convenience store. the light inside flickered as he walked by — like it recognized him and was too tired to greet him.

his steps slowed slightly.

he wasn’t replaying what happened.

he didn’t need to.

it was still playing on its own.

the way suo had leaned in close to her.

the soft voice — the one he usually only used when someone was already bleeding.

the look — not just friendly. not teammate-to-stranger. something… older. deeper.

ren clicked his tongue quietly.

not jealousy. not suspicion.

just curiosity.

laced with a strange, brittle feeling he couldn’t name.

his fingers brushed the side of his headphone. he thought about turning on a playlist. drowning it out.

but the silence… was better.

he could still hear her voice in it.

nervous, trying not to stammer.

he remembered how she had fidgeted with the corner of the tray, how she’d flinched slightly when umemiya spoke too loud. how she’d tried not to meet his gaze — but did anyway.

for half a second.

a long half-second.

his breath fogged slightly in the cooling air.

he looked up. the wind shifted through the phone lines and bent the tops of the trees.

he kept walking.

slower now.

like something — or someone — had left a mark on the sidewalk behind him.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

the morning air was sharper than yesterday.

sunlight cut through the mist like broken glass — clear and cold, almost too bright for how quiet everything felt. your boots tapped lightly along the pavement as you rounded the corner, expecting to see the café door propped open like always.

but instead — you heard it.

“get off me, freak—!”

kotoha.

you dropped your bag immediately and ran.

the alley beside café pothos was narrow and shadowed, light barely touching the cracked cement. and there — just ahead — were three high school boys, maybe second or third years, none of them from furin. their uniforms were scuffed, untucked, their laughs dry and mean.

you dropped your bag immediately and ran.

two of them had kotoha by the arms.

she was fighting, but their grips were tight, deliberate — not just a dumb prank. they were trying to provoke something.

you didn’t stop to think.

“hey!” you shouted, your voice snapping like a whip across the alley.

all three heads turned.

that was enough.

you surged forward, ducking under one of their arms and slamming your elbow straight into his ribs. he let out a choked grunt and loosened his hold just enough for kotoha to twist free.

you shoved her hard. “go!”

“what—? i’m not leaving you—!”

“kotoha, now!”

your voice cracked with something you didn’t recognize.

she stared — a beat — then turned and bolted, yelling something over her shoulder. but you couldn’t catch the words.

because a hand had already grabbed your jacket.

the third guy yanked you back, knocking the air from your lungs, and the one you’d hit was getting up fast. they weren’t stronger, but they were faster now — pissed, careless.

“stupid,” one of them spat. “wasn’t even about you.”

you glared. “then get out.”

but they didn’t.

instead, one stepped forward, grabbing your chin to look you over.

you jerked your face away, teeth clenched, but he held on.

“feisty one,” he said, grinning.

you clawed at him, landing a kick to his knee.

but that’s when the guy you’d elbowed reappeared — this time, with a box cutter.

blade extended.

eyes lit.

he slashed without hesitation — a wide, shallow sweep.

you turned just enough — but not fast enough. the blade kissed your cheek, leaving a thin, burning line beneath your eye.

the blood came warm, trailing down to your jaw.

you didn’t cry out — just hissed between clenched teeth.

he grinned.

“shouldn’t’ve stepped in,” he said. “you’re real dumb, you know that?”

then the guy pinning you squinted.

tilted his head.

“…yo. hold up. don’t she look like that dude from furin? the smiley one?”

“suo?” the other said, laughing. “yo, she does. creepy.”

they both laughed.

and then the air shifted.

hard. heavy. final.

footsteps echoed — not running, but slow. deliberate.

a rhythm that said they had all the time in the world… because you didn’t.

“what the hell’s goin’ on back here?”

the alley changed.

six shadows appeared like they belonged there — like they owned the street beneath their shoes.

umemiya hajime stepped in first — tall, calm, coat loose, hands in his pockets, but his eyes locked sharp on the scene.

beside him, hiragi, all pointed hair and sharp teeth, grin wide with interest.

sakura was next, eyes mismatched — honey and gray — glinting with quiet fury.

then kiryu, pink hair swept back, cool as ever, piercings glinting like warning lights.

tsugeura, tense and wired, fists twitching.

and finally, ren kaji — lollipop between his lips, bluetooth headphones resting over his ears, white hair tousled like always. unreadable.

none of them spoke.

they didn’t need to.

within seconds, the fight was over.

hiragi slammed one kid into the wall, tsugeura shattered the blade underfoot, kiryu yanked another down without breaking his grin. one ran. umemiya didn’t even flinch.

you stood there, panting, blood on your cheek.

kotoha appeared again, rushing to your side. “you’re hurt—!”

“i’m fine,” you murmured, even though your legs wobbled.

then she paused.

eyes wide.

“…yo. hold up. don’t she look like that dude from furin? the smiley one?”

“suo?”

“…suo?” she whispered.

she stared at you now.

really stared.

your eyes. your jaw. your posture.

the blood on your cheek.

and it clicked.

“…you’re suo’s sister.”

the bell above the door jingled as she dragged you inside.

“sit,” she muttered, rushing behind the counter for the first-aid kit.

you didn’t argue.

your cheek was still bleeding — slow now, but sticky. the cut stung as the air hit it, and your pulse thudded in your ear, too fast, too heavy.

kotoha returned with a warm cloth and antiseptic, kneeling in front of you without a word. she didn’t ask if it would hurt. she didn’t have to.

you winced as she dabbed at the wound, careful but firm.

it was quiet — painfully so — until she finally spoke.

“…you okay?”

you nodded, swallowing. “yeah.”

she didn’t look convinced.

and she didn’t move away, not yet.

her eyes flicked up, scanning your face again — more intensely this time.

“those guys,” she started slowly, voice low, “they said you looked like someone.”

you went still.

“…suo.”

your breath caught — just barely.

kotoha leaned back on her heels, squinting. “they’re not wrong. you’ve got the same smile.”

you avoided her eyes.

“…i don’t know what you mean.”

she let out a soft, skeptical breath. not angry — just tired.

“you show up out of nowhere,” she said. “transfer in. suddenly start working here. and today, out there, you throw yourself in front of a bunch of idiots just to protect me without even blinking.”

she stood, arms crossing loosely.

“you’re brave. reckless. stupid, maybe. sounds like someone else i know.”

you gave her a tight smile. “maybe i’ve just got a type.”

she raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

you tried to deflect, standing. “thanks for patching me up.”

but before you could step past her, her hand caught your arm — gentle, not forceful.

“…you’re his sister, aren’t you?”

the silence between you turned solid.

you hesitated.

and then: “you can’t tell anyone.”

kotoha blinked. “why?”

you looked toward the door — as if suo might walk in at any moment, as if he could explain it all better than you ever could.

“it’s just better that way,” you said finally, voice quiet. “no one’s supposed to know.”

kotoha didn’t press.

she just studied you for another beat.

then let go of your arm.

“…fine,” she said softly, finally.

“but you better tell me why someday.”

you nodded once.

and the doorbell jingled again as the silence settled.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

the sky was streaked orange and violet by the time you locked the café behind you.

the day had stretched long — from your morning shift to the alley fight to kotoha’s quiet confrontation — and you hadn’t even realized how exhausted you were until you saw suo leaning against the lamppost just outside, hands in his jacket pockets.

“you waited?” you asked, stepping toward him.

he smiled — calm and easy, like always.

“you think i’d let you walk home alone after getting your face sliced open?”

you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small tug of a smile. “it’s not that bad.”

his eyes flicked to the bandage on your cheek.

“sure,” he said lightly. “definitely not the kind of injury that turns our mom into a nuclear bomb when she finds out.”

you groaned. “you wouldn’t.”

“no promises.”

the two of you walked quietly for a bit. the streets were still, the occasional buzz of a cicada or the shuffle of a cat passing behind a gate the only sounds.

you glanced at him. “you’re really not gonna tell anyone, right?”

he shook his head. “not unless you want me to.”

you nodded, relieved.

but then he added, too casually, “that said — i’m assigning someone to watch you.”

you stopped mid-step, frowning. “what?”

“you heard me.” he gave you that calm, sunny smile that always meant trouble. “you’ve clearly got a talent for landing yourself in the worst places.”

“i was helping kotoha!”

“and bleeding. don’t forget that part.”

you groaned again and shoved his arm, but he didn’t budge.

“so what, you’re assigning a bodyguard?”

“something like that.” he lifted a hand to his chin, mock thoughtful. “maybe nirei? he’s soft. polite. he’d carry your bags.”

you snorted. “nirei would pass out if someone looked at us wrong.”

“true,” suo nodded. “okay, then what about sakura?”

you blinked. “haruka? he’d either ignore me completely or scream every time i speak.”

“…so like a very loud scarecrow,” he muttered.

you burst out laughing.

he joined in for a moment — that same lighthearted grin on his face — before his expression softened just a little.

“…joking aside,” he said. “i’ll probably talk to ren.”

you paused.

“ren kaji?”

suo nodded. “he’s sharp. serious. doesn’t say much, but he sees everything. if anyone can keep you safe without drawing attention, it’s him.”

you glanced down at your shoes.

suo smiled again, slower this time. “don’t look so shocked. you already caught his attention, anyway.”

“what?” you looked up quickly.

he shrugged. “he was the first one to notice you weren’t around when kotoha ran in. he didn’t say much, but he was the first out the door.”

your heart thudded — just once, loud and uncertain.

“anyway,” suo said, stretching his arms above his head as you reached your neighborhood corner, “no need to stress. he probably won’t talk to you at all. he’s a professional.”

you narrowed your eyes. “you’re enjoying this.”

“what? me?” he gasped, hand on his chest. “your loving brother?”

you punched his arm.

“ow.”

you stopped in front of your apartment and turned toward him.

“thanks for walking me.”

he smiled, soft now. “always.”

and then he leaned in, tapping just beside the bandage on your cheek.

“don’t make this a habit.”

you saluted half-heartedly, and he walked off down the street, whistling like he hadn’t just casually rearranged your entire week.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

the back room of furin’s gym was quiet, lit only by the dim fluorescents overhead. a sharp contrast from the earlier commotion. bandages were rolled neatly on a shelf, the scent of disinfectant clinging to the air like something permanent.

ren leaned his back against the cool wall, arms crossed, white headphones over his ears but not playing anything. a lollipop stuck between his lips, turning slowly as he watched suo sitting on the bench across from him, absently tapping the heel of his palm against his knee.

“you wanted something?” ren asked, finally breaking the silence. his tone was flat, but not unkind.

suo glanced up with his usual easygoing smile, though there was something behind it tonight. something a little more serious.

“yeah. i’ve got a favor to ask.”

ren didn’t move.

suo leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his thighs. “it’s about her.”

ren’s jaw shifted slightly, the lollipop rolling to the other side of his mouth.

“…the new girl?”

suo nodded.

ren’s brow ticked. “why?”

suo shrugged like it was no big deal. “just… want you to keep an eye on her.”

ren’s stare lingered.

he didn’t nod. didn’t agree.

instead, he asked, “you don’t ask for favors unless you’ve got a reason.”

suo’s smile twitched.

“so what is it?”

for a second, suo didn’t answer. then he rubbed the back of his neck, glanced off to the side, and said casually, “she’s new in town. kind of reckless. got mixed up in something stupid today. i figure, she needs someone with a level head around.”

ren didn’t buy it. not entirely.

he tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly.

“you don’t ask me to babysit strangers.”

suo let out a quiet laugh. “i’m not asking you to babysit. just… be around. that’s all.”

ren was still staring. still unconvinced.

suo caught it and sighed through his nose.

“look, i’ll be honest,” he said, quieter now. “i trust you more than anyone else in furin. and for reasons i can’t fully explain right now, i just want to make sure she’s okay. she’s not exactly fragile, but…”

he trailed off, smile softening at the edges.

“i don’t know. maybe it’s a gut thing.”

ren’s gaze lingered for a few seconds longer.

gut thing, huh?

he took the lollipop out of his mouth and stared at it like it had answers. it didn’t.

but suo was serious. and that wasn’t something ren ignored.

“…fine,” he said finally. “but if this is some weird setup, i’m not babysitting.”

suo chuckled. “i wouldn’t do that to you.”

ren stuck the lollipop back in, pushed off the wall, and started heading toward the door.

“you already are,” he muttered.

suo laughed again. “thank you, ren.”

ren didn’t answer. just raised a hand over his shoulder as he walked out.

the door clicked shut behind him.

and outside, under the night sky, ren felt the smallest prickle of something unexpected:

curiosity.

and maybe, just maybe—

a strange sense that whatever this was?

it was going to change something.

the next day, ren showed up earlier than usual.

not by much — just ten minutes or so before the rest of the group. enough to avoid suspicion. enough to linger near the corner of the café, not really blending in, but not drawing attention either. white headphones snug over his ears, lollipop tucked between his teeth. same slouched posture, same unreadable stare.

from where he sat, he could see her through the window. already wiping down the tables with the sleeves rolled up past her elbows, hair pulled back with a loose clip that kept slipping. she laughed at something kotoha said — that soft kind of laugh that disappeared almost as fast as it came.

he didn’t move. just watched.

she didn’t notice him that first day.

too busy. too new. too distracted by trays and customers and the chaos that always came with lunch rush at café pothos.

but by the second day?

she hesitated near the window.

her eyes caught on him — only for a second. quick enough to register a stranger, someone who wasn’t quite a regular. maybe she thought she recognized him from the fight. maybe not.

on the third day, she glanced again. slower this time.

by the fourth, she paused while clearing one of the outdoor tables and looked directly at him. just for a moment. not rude, not suspicious. just curious.

and ren, naturally, pretended not to notice.

he stared ahead. lollipop spinning. music not even playing.

but inside, he was very aware.

she was starting to piece it together.

he could tell in the way her eyes would flick toward him when she thought he wasn’t looking. the way her brows furrowed slightly, like a puzzle was starting to form.

kotoha noticed too, in her own way. muttered something to the reader during their shift about a “favorite white-haired regular” and “weirdly loyal customers.” ren had half a mind to leave after that, but his job wasn’t done.

by the fifth day, he stopped pretending.

he stood a little closer when she brought out the signboard that morning. didn’t say anything — just held the door open without being asked. she thanked him, a little cautiously.

“you’re here a lot,” she said, watching him from the corner of her eye.

ren shrugged, unbothered. “good coffee.”

“you haven’t ordered anything yet.”

“still deciding.”

a beat.

“…it’s been five days.”

he smirked around his lollipop. “i take my time.”

she looked at him, half-smiling, not sure what to make of that. she didn’t press. didn’t call him out. but he could tell — she wasn’t buying it.

and for some reason?

that made him intrigued by her a little bit more.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

the sun was just starting to mellow into gold, casting soft shadows across the café floor. the post-lunch lull had settled in, leaving only a few scattered customers and the occasional clink of ceramic cups being cleared.

ren had claimed his usual spot again — by the window, arms crossed, headphones on, white hair half-shadowed by the light filtering through the blinds. a lollipop shifted lazily between his teeth, gaze half-lidded and seemingly uninterested in anything.

until she stepped over, hands tucked in the pockets of her apron, a look on her face that was too amused to be casual.

“you really think you’re subtle, huh?”

ren blinked once. looked up.

“…huh?”

“don’t play dumb,” she said, smiling slightly as she leaned against the table, crossing one ankle over the other. “you’ve been showing up here every day for the past week. no coffee. no food. just sitting there. watching.”

he stayed quiet. unreadable.

“you’re not even lowkey about it anymore,” she added. “you held the door for me yesterday and tried to act like it wasn’t a big deal.”

ren shrugged, shifting his lollipop from one side of his mouth to the other.

“good manners.”

“creepy timing.”

he snorted at that, briefly amused.

“i knew,” she said, softer now. “the whole time.”

his gaze sharpened.

“but i figured,” she went on, “if you were gonna hover around like some poorly disguised guard dog, the least i could do was mess with you a little.”

his eyes narrowed just slightly. “why didn’t you say anything?”

she tilted her head. “and ruin the fun?”

he didn’t answer. just watched her — the smirk at the corners of her mouth, the sharp wit in her tone, and underneath it all, the fact that she was actively avoiding mentioning the obvious: suo.

she knew why he was here.

she just wasn’t saying it out loud.

“besides,” she added, tapping the edge of his table lightly, “you’re not bad company. weirdly quiet, kind of intense. but not terrible.”

he rolled the lollipop against his teeth again. “…thanks, i guess.”

“don’t let it go to your head.”

and with that, she turned and walked off, ponytail swaying slightly with each step.

ren watched her go, the faintest flicker of something warm settling in his chest.

he wasn’t sure if it was annoyance or something dangerously close to liking her.

later that day, ren had just stepped around the side of the building when suo fell into step next to him like he’d been waiting.

“yo.”

ren didn’t look at him. “how long were you standing there?”

“long enough,” suo grinned, hands in his pockets. “you two looked like you were getting along.”

ren rolled his eyes and kept walking.

suo followed easily. “so? how’s the watching going?”

“she already knew.”

suo raised his brows, clearly not surprised.

“said she figured it out day two.”

“makes sense,” suo nodded. “she’s sharp.”

“said she was messing with me.”

“also tracks.”

ren popped a new lollipop in his mouth, letting the wrapper fall into his hoodie pocket. “you didn’t tell her i’d be watching.”

“nope.”

ren shot him a look.

suo just smiled wider. “figured it’d be more fun that way.”

“you’re annoying.”

“and you’re attached.”

ren stopped walking.

“…what?”

suo kept going, calling over his shoulder. “nothing~!”

ren stood there, the sunset brushing soft orange across the street, the echo of her voice — you’re not bad company — still tugging at the edges of his mind.

he let out a slow breath, bitter cherry and amusement on his tongue.

“…damn it.”

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

the next week came quietly — but not without change.

it started small.

day one: you brought him a glass of water.

“you look like you’re gonna melt sitting there all afternoon,” you said, setting it down on his table without waiting for him to ask. “figured you’d need something before you turn into dust.”

ren raised an eyebrow, removing one side of his headphones.

“i’m good.”

“sure,” you replied, already walking off. “but drink it anyway.”

he stared at the condensation trickling down the side of the glass before giving in. it wasn’t about the water.

it was the way you noticed.

day two: he responded first.

“you always open alone?” he asked, voice low but even.

you blinked, surprised he was the one to break the silence this time. “mostly. kotoha usually comes in around ten.”

ren nodded once, headphones still on but not playing music. he watched you wipe down the same table twice, more fidgety than usual.

“you don’t get bored sitting here?”

“i like routine.”

“this is your routine now?”

he didn’t answer. you took that as a yes.

day three: you made fun of him again.

“so what’s the deal with the lollipops? nervous habit?”

ren didn’t look up from where he was slouched against the windowsill, one leg bent, the lollipop stick angled lazily out of his mouth.

“keeps my mouth busy.”

you snorted. “you could try smiling sometime.”

he shifted the lollipop to the other side of his mouth. “i do.”

“right. once every lunar eclipse.”

“twice,” he corrected flatly.

that made you laugh.

it stuck with him longer than he expected.

day four: he walked you out after close.

“you know,” you said as you locked up the front door, “you don’t have to stay here the entire day. there’s gotta be better ways to waste your time.”

ren didn’t reply right away, just walked beside you as you crossed the street. the evening was quiet, warm wind brushing against your clothes and the scent of brewed coffee still clinging to your hair.

“it’s not a waste.”

you looked over at him, curious.

he didn’t say anything else.

you didn’t push.

day five: you offered him a drink.

“on the house,” you said, sliding over a cup of iced coffee with a straw. “you’ve earned it.”

“for what?”

“being slightly less creepy.”

“mm,” he hummed. “progress.”

you smiled faintly, fiddling with a sugar packet. “you’re not that hard to talk to, you know.”

ren glanced at you, expression unreadable as always, but something softened.

“you’re not either.”

and maybe you were imagining it — but you swore he smiled. just for a second.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

it was mid-afternoon, and café pothos was busier than usual — the after-school crowd trickling in, laughter and heat pooling inside the warm-toned space.

ren had his usual corner.

headphones over his ears.

back to the wall.

eyes occasionally flicking up every time you passed by the counter.

it wasn’t obvious — not to anyone who didn’t already know — but he was tuned into your movements like background noise he couldn’t shut off.

and that’s when it happened.

a couple of third-year boys from a different school sat at the high table near ren’s booth, talking low but not exactly being quiet.

“isn’t that furin’s hayato suo?”

ren’s eye twitched slightly at the name. he didn’t turn, just listened.

“yeah, looks like it. didn’t know he had a girlfriend though.”

“huh? wait, you mean—?”

ren shifted, gaze sharpening. he followed their eyes to where suo was crouched behind the counter, helping his sister restock supplies in the back shelf, both of you laughing quietly about something he’d said.

the boys chuckled.

“man, didn’t think he was the relationship type.”

“nah, makes sense. she kinda looks like him, though.”

“weirdly cute, honestly.”

ren blinked.

girlfriend.

cute.

he stared down into the slowly melting ice in his cup, jaw ticking for a half-second before he pushed his lollipop to the other side of his mouth with a dry click.

you weren’t correcting them.

you weren’t rushing to explain.

and suo, dumbass that he was, didn’t seem to notice the assumption either.

ren didn’t understand why it bothered him.

just that it did.

a minute later, you walked back out front with a new order slip and shot ren a glance over your shoulder — just a flicker of a smile, something you hadn’t even meant to send his way.

and still.

he looked away.

but not before you noticed the shift in his expression.

ren walked home slower than usual.

his lollipop was half-dissolved, the taste dulled. he hadn’t even noticed when he’d put it in his mouth — just that it was there. routine. automatic.

kind of like everything else lately.

he tugged his headphones lower around his neck, letting the city hum around him. the streets were mostly empty. muted orange light pooled on the sidewalks, fading into long shadows.

he should’ve let it go.

they were just some random guys. some offhand comment. background noise.

but the words kept replaying.

“isn’t that furin’s hayato suo?”

“didn’t know he had a girlfriend though.”

girlfriend.

he clicked the lollipop between his teeth.

you weren’t suo’s girlfriend.

…right?

you never corrected them.

you didn’t laugh or flinch or wave it off. you just kept moving like you didn’t hear — or maybe like you didn’t mind.

he ran a hand through his hair. it was a stupid thing to be thinking about. he didn’t care who you smiled at. not really. not even a little.

you were just someone he was keeping an eye on.

that’s all this was.

and yet—

he’d noticed it before. the way you talked to suo. a little too close. comfortable. protective, even. the way suo hovered around you when he thought no one was watching. the way your laughs weren’t the usual kind — they were familiar. layered.

something wasn’t adding up.

he wasn’t the type to poke around. he didn’t like drama. didn’t like guessing games.

but now?

his stomach wouldn’t stop twisting.

he stopped walking somewhere near the convenience store, lollipop grinding between his molars. he didn’t know if he was annoyed, or irritated, or—

jealous?

his jaw tightened.

“tch.”

he wasn’t supposed to be noticing this kind of thing.

he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about what it meant when someone else made you laugh — or why it made him feel like someone shoved a wedge of static into his chest.

he didn’t even know you like that.

you were just someone he’d been told to look after.

and now he couldn’t stop looking.

he shoved his hands into his pockets, lollipop cracking a little between his back teeth.

and still, even as he told himself that over and over…

he kept thinking about the way your eyes had flicked toward him after those guys said it.

like maybe you’d noticed something in his face.

and maybe… liked it.

his ears burned.

he bit down harder on the lollipop, until the candy split in half and the stick scraped against his teeth.

“damn it,” he muttered, under his breath this time.

he didn’t like you.

he didn’t.

and he definitely didn’t want to think about what would happen if you ever smiled at someone else the way you did at him.

you noticed it the next morning.

the shift.

it wasn’t loud or dramatic. nothing anyone else would’ve caught. but you’d seen ren kaji enough in the last week to know what his stillness meant — and this kind wasn’t his usual detached silence.

this wasn’t his “don’t bother me” quiet.

this was something else.

he didn’t look at you when you walked into the café. just sat there, headphones pulled low, lollipop in his mouth like always, gaze focused out the window like the sky had something more interesting to offer than you.

and maybe it did.

but it still made something in your chest twitch.

you greeted kotoha, tied your apron, got to work — but every time you moved behind the counter, you could feel him notice. brief flickers. eyes tracking. then immediately turning away.

you smirked to yourself.

so.

that’s how he wanted to play it.

fine.

you dried your hands on a towel, took a breath, and headed toward his booth — not to take his order (you already knew it), not to bother him really — just to exist in his space for a few seconds longer than you usually would.

he didn’t look up.

you leaned your elbow against the edge of his table, tilting your head slightly.

“you know,” you said casually, eyes sweeping the room, “if you’re gonna come in every day and stare at me, you could at least pretend to be interested.”

that got him.

his eyes finally slid up, slow and unimpressed. candy stick clicking softly between his teeth. he didn’t say anything at first. just stared — blank, unreadable.

but the edge of his jaw twitched.

you grinned.

“not gonna deny it?” you asked, resting your chin on your hand now, completely in his space.

he didn’t blink.

“…you’re annoying,” he muttered at last, voice low and flat.

but you caught it — the quick glance away, the faint flush across the bridge of his nose, the way he pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek like he was chewing down a stronger reaction.

you straightened up, satisfied.

“mm. and you are very bad at hiding things.”

his gaze snapped back to you, sharper now.

“i’m not hiding anything.”

“sure you’re not,” you teased, turning away before he could say more. “enjoy your drink, stalker.”

you felt his stare follow you back behind the counter.

and you didn’t look back.

but you smiled to yourself the whole way.

the rest of the day moved like honey — warm, sweet, and slow enough to stick.

ren didn’t talk to you again.

not after that moment.

he stayed seated longer than usual, headphones slipped back over his ears, arms crossed, head tipped lazily toward the window like he could sleep through the weight of your words.

but you saw it.

you saw the way his gaze trailed after you whenever you turned your back.

you saw how he stopped chewing his lollipop after you walked off — like he was thinking too hard to bother.

and still, he never said anything else.

you weren’t surprised. guys like ren didn’t flinch easily. and if they did — they sure as hell didn’t talk about it.

kotoha picked up on something, though.

she kept giving you side-glances between wiping down the espresso machine and calling out orders. once, she muttered something like, “you two have weird air today,” and you just shrugged, pretending not to notice the strange churn in your chest.

you didn’t see ren leave.

when you realized his booth was empty, a weird kind of disappointment slipped into your stomach — dull, quiet, but persistent. you brushed it off, went back to work, and stayed until the sky was streaked with deep lavender.

that night, when you were closing with kotoha, she leaned on the counter and eyed you.

“so.”

you didn’t look up from stacking the cups. “so?”

“you and ren.”

you raised a brow. “me and ren what?”

“weird air,” she repeated.

you snorted. “he’s always weird.”

“no, he’s usually emotionally distant. today he was…” she squinted at you. “tense.”

“he’s not tense,” you said quickly. then paused. “okay, maybe a little.”

kotoha tapped a finger against the counter. “did you say something?”

“…maybe.”

“did he react?”

“in ren language, yes.”

“so that means…?” she tilted her head.

“he called me annoying.”

kotoha broke into a small laugh. “wow. scandalous.”

you rolled your eyes, but the smile pulled at your lips anyway.

as you walked home alone that night, hands stuffed in your pockets, you didn’t expect to think about it again.

but your steps slowed a little as you passed the alley near the café. the one where ren used to linger with his back to the brick wall, one earphone in, lollipop in place, arms crossed like he belonged to the silence.

he wasn’t there tonight.

and the air felt strangely too quiet without him.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

ren found them exactly where he figured they’d be — sprawled out behind the gym building like they had no responsibilities in the world.

suo was leaning back on his elbows, eyes half-lidded in the sun, surrounded by taiga and kiryu who were mid-argument over whether pineapple belonged on pizza, and nirei who was nervously laughing while pretending to clean his glasses for the fifth time.

ren stopped just short of the group and pulled his headphones down around his neck.

“hey.”

suo opened one eye. “ren. what’s up?”

ren crossed his arms. “i’m done.”

taiga paused mid-hand gesture. kiryu blinked.

suo sat up slowly. “done with what?”

“watching her,” ren muttered, staring off to the side, like if he didn’t meet anyone’s eyes, this wouldn’t sound as stupid as it felt.

a beat of silence.

“ohhhh,” kiryu said, eyes lighting up. “he means your girl.”

“she’s not—” ren paused. jaw clenched. “she’s your problem.”

suo tilted his head, that same calm, unreadable smile sitting on his lips. “problem?”

“you assigned me to keep an eye on her,” ren continued. “but if she’s so important to you, maybe you should stop pawning her off.”

nirei immediately panicked. “w-wait, is this about her safety or something else or… or did she get mad?! is someone mad?!”

taiga leaned toward kiryu. “you think they fought?”

kiryu grinned. “nah. ren’s acting weird. definitely jealousy.”

“shut up,” ren snapped, eyes darting back to suo. “i just think you should look after your own girlfriend.”

suo blinked. then — laughed.

“girlfriend?” he echoed, tilting his head. “you think she’s my girlfriend?”

ren’s jaw tightened. “isn’t she?”

“nope.”

“then what the hell is she?”

“someone really important to me,” suo said easily, smile still there, not a single crack in his voice. “but she’d be annoyed if i was around all the time.”

taiga blinked. “wait, wait, wait… if she’s not your girlfriend and she’s important and you don’t want to say why…”

nirei gasped. “are you guys secretly engaged?!”

kiryu chuckled. “plot twist.”

suo just smiled.

ren narrowed his eyes. “you’re not gonna answer that?”

“nope.”

“you’re seriously not gonna tell anyone what your deal is with her?”

suo shrugged. “nope.”

taiga groaned dramatically. “come on!”

“hey, you’re the one who assumed she was my girlfriend,” suo added, nudging ren with a playful elbow. “interesting.”

“not interesting,” ren muttered, turning away with a scowl. “just confusing.”

kiryu leaned back on his hands. “you know what’s more confusing? why ren suddenly cares so much.”

“i don’t,” ren said immediately.

too immediately.

everyone stared at him.

suo, still smiling, finally stood up and dusted off his pants. “thanks for doing it as long as you did. really.”

“whatever,” ren muttered, turning on his heel. “you can explain to her why your random friend won’t be loitering at her work anymore.”

suo didn’t stop him.

but ren could feel his eyes on his back — quiet, knowing, and infuriatingly amused.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

the café felt weirdly… quiet.

which was insane, because the same three regulars were still arguing about card games in the corner, kotoha was still humming off-key while cleaning mugs, and the milk steamer still hissed like an angry cat.

but still.

he wasn’t there.

you glanced at the booth by the window.

empty.

no long legs stretched out beneath the table, no white headphones pressed to his ears, no stupid lollipop stick between his lips like he wasn’t even enjoying it, just chewing through something to survive.

you tried not to let it bug you. really.

but by the third time you looked at that booth in the span of ten minutes, kotoha narrowed her eyes and went, “…he didn’t die, you know.”

you immediately turned around. “who?”

“uh-huh,” she said, already not believing you.

you grabbed your coat and pushed through the front door before you could think about it too hard.

you found suo leaning against a vending machine near the back of the school building, pretending to text even though the screen brightness was turned all the way down.

“hey.”

he looked up, surprised. “you okay?”

you crossed your arms. “where’s ren?”

he blinked. “…he has a name now?”

you ignored the jab. “he didn’t show up today.”

“wow, someone’s observant.”

“don’t be annoying.”

suo smirked and put his phone away. “you’re looking for him?”

you shrugged, noncommittal. “just thought i’d check.”

“sure.”

“…he usually drops by. without ordering anything. and glares at the menu for thirty minutes.”

“sounds like ren.”

“so where is he?”

suo straightened and rubbed the back of his neck. “i may have told him he was off duty.”

your stomach twisted a little. “off duty?”

“yeah. no more designated staring.”

“so you assigned him to stalk me.”

“don’t make it sound weird,” he laughed.

you stared at him.

“…okay, it was weird,” he admitted. “but it was for your safety!”

you sighed. “well. he’s gone now.”

“you sound disappointed.”

you glanced off to the side. “…maybe i am.”

suo blinked. then grinned. “no way. are you—do you like him?”

you said nothing.

suo clutched his chest like you had stabbed him. “you like—you like ren kaji?! mister ‘i wear headphones to ignore the world’?? mister ‘don’t talk to me or i’ll die’??”

you rolled your eyes. “he’s not that dramatic.”

“you’ve literally said he breathes like a sleep paralysis demon.”

“well yeah, but like—in a cool way.”

suo looked horrified. “oh my god. you like him.”

you tried to glare, but it didn’t stick.

suo softened slightly. “you know… it’s kinda adorable.”

“…you’re not gonna punch him?”

“i definitely am, but ren’s alright.”

you raised a brow. “you’re letting this go easier than i thought.”

“yeah, but—” his tone shifted just a little, light but serious underneath. “you still gotta be careful. getting attached to people in this town? it’s dangerous. you know that.”

you glanced down.

“…i know.”

“besides,” he added, poking your forehead with his finger, “it’s not like you’ve confessed or anything. for all you know, ren’s just confused every time you speak.”

you shoved his arm. “gee, thanks.”

“anytime.”

you went back into the café and not long after the chime above the café door rang again — a normal sound, familiar even. you glanced up from your spot restocking napkins at the counter, just as kotoha’s voice called out her usual cheery, practiced greeting.

“welcome to café pothos! let me know if—”

she paused mid-sentence.

you followed her line of sight, watching as three guys stepped in wearing beaten-up but unmistakable shishitoren jackets — the gritty symbol stitched on the back was faded in places, splattered with something that might’ve been blood or just dirt from the road.

kotoha’s smile didn’t falter, though her eyes sharpened slightly. “ohhh—shishitoren, huh? didn’t expect to see you guys here again so soon.”

you blinked, confused.

kotoha leaned over slightly and whispered near your ear, “quick history lesson: bofurin and shishitoren used to scrap a lot. got bad for a while. but recently, umemiya and their rep squashed it. peace and all that. they even came in last week for coffee.”

you nodded slowly, letting the information settle.

“so they’re not dangerous anymore?” you whispered back.

“depends on the day,” she muttered, then brightened again. “but for now—just treat ’em like any other group of guys with too much gel in their hair.”

you quietly laughed and turned to help her prepare a table — menus, water glasses, the usual.

one of the boys, tall with wide shoulders and messy hair falling into his face, leaned against the booth like he owned it. his buddy, buzz-cut and smirking, spun a spoon on the table while the third leaned a little too close to kotoha’s side of the bar, watching her every move.

you tried not to focus on them. just work. just keep your head down.

you placed the last cup on the table, took a step back—

clack.

something cold and heavy rested flat against your back. you froze instantly, breath catching.

metal.

a bat.

your hands hovered mid-air as the guy behind you leaned in, voice low and mocking right at your ear.

“quiet, sweetheart. don’t wanna ruin the surprise.”

you didn’t dare turn your head. didn’t need to.

kotoha had turned halfway toward you, hands full of mugs. her face shifted in an instant.

“what the hell are you doing?” she snapped.

the guy standing nearest the booth grinned, lifting the front of his jacket slightly. you spotted the tag — hastily cut, barely clinging. the seams were ripped.

“these?” he said, gesturing to their clothes. “yeah, we borrowed ‘em. beat the shit outta some shishitoren dogs last night. figured we’d come say hi.”

your stomach sank.

they weren’t from shishitoren.

they just stole their faces.

“and lookie here,” the buzz-cut one said, slipping a pocket knife from his sleeve with practiced ease and flipping it open.

your heart pounded as he crossed to you, casually slinging an arm across your shoulder like a friend — the knife flashing down by your side, hidden to anyone not standing in your exact spot.

kotoha moved.

fast.

she dropped a tray and made for another one, aiming to hurl it—when the guy with the bat pressed it harder into your back, twisting slightly. you flinched.

“ah, ah,” the knife guy clicked his tongue at kotoha. “try that and your little friend gets a new smile.”

kotoha froze. her hands clenched around the counter’s edge. her expression shifted from alarm to fire in seconds.

“you touch her, and i swear—”

“you’ll what?” he grinned. “ring up a bill for assault?”

the café suddenly felt too quiet. your breath trembled slightly as you shifted your eyes to kotoha, not daring to move your body, silently pleading.

she looked at you — really looked — and something in her expression cracked.

it was happening again. someone had found you. someone had recognized you from something.

“you really should watch your step,” the one behind you muttered. “your face… looks too familiar, y’know?”

your eyes widened, just a little.

they knew.

you didn’t say a word.

kotoha’s nails scraped the counter. she needed to act, but with a knife that close and you right in the middle, the odds were bad. her gaze darted to the door — the street — and then to her phone behind the register.

please, you thought, someone come in.

someone — anyone — from bofurin.

and soon.