Archive of Our Own

“In life, unlike chess, the game continues after checkmate.”
― Isaac Asimov

+++

The courtyard was quiet as all those loud, boisterous voices moved off into the night, leaving with the remnants of their pasts and all those wishes for their futures back to the lives they'd been leading for the past twelve years.

He watched them go in silence. 

And then he was alone, still holding Mikey's words in his hand.

Alone with the box and the shrine and the quiet of the night and that empty space where Mikey should have been.

He hadn't even remembered to read his own letter.

He sighed and went back to check the box for it. He could read it to himself at least. 

Tape.

There was a tape at the bottom of the box.

Had that....

No, that definitely hadn't been there before.

There was no way he would have missed it.

Was there?

Since he still worked at the video store finding a machine to play it on hadn't been a problem though he'd been a little scared the ancient machine would eat it as it clicked and whirled.

Then the screen flickered and an image popped onto it, the picture was a little grainy and the audio was soft he had to turn it up to hear it.

There was Mikey, just a little kid, his brother, Emma, all of Mikey's family and then... Mikey of twelve years ago, all alone, looking exhausted, staring back at him through the television screen, like looking through a window into the past. 

And he understood.

Even before Mikey said anything, he understood, because he'd seen Mikey at his ease, sitting on that hillside all those years ago talking about his hope for the future.

And he'd seen Mikey at his worst, dying in the ruins outside Manila as he'd tried to tell him he'd fix it. 

He remembered the way he'd smiled.

“In twelve years, please stay away from me."

His hands ache, curled into fists at his sides and his eyes burned.

"Don't go back to the past to try and save me or something. To walk down this path is my own decision."

"We will not be meeting again.”

And then he had smiled.

Because he had always smiled.

"Please live a happy life."

He felt sick.

No way.

There was no way.

He slapped his hand against the eject button and shoved the tape in his pocket.

The train was pretty empty so late at night, but the quiet just made Mikey's words in his own head echo louder and louder.

He remembered vaguely running into Kazutora outside his place. Telling him something about leads, but... this was what Mikey wanted, wasn't it? 

Who was he to go against Mikey's wishes?

Who?

It was his fault, after all.

The next few days had passed in a blur.

He went to work, he came home, he went to sleep. He probably ate in there somewhere, talked to Hina, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Mikey. Back to the video he'd placed so carefully next to his battered, ancient television. 

"We will not be meeting again."

"Hey! Takamitchy! What are you spacing out for?"

He startled and was surprised to find himself sitting in Mitsuba's shop to find Draken looking at him like he'd done something wrong.

He couldn't for the life of him remember what he was doing there until they pulled back the curtain and...

"Please live a happy life."

Oh.

Suddenly he could see his happy life laid out before him in the twirl of her skirt, in her wide smile, and it was beautiful. She was beautiful. 

They were gonna get married.

They were gonna be happy together.

He....

”To walk down this path is my own decision.”

Tears welled up in his eyes, spilling down his cheeks and he dashed them away, the apology spilling out even as thoughts of Mikey, all those different Mikeys he had known, swirled around dizzingly inside his head.

He always smiled like that.

Always.

Mikey’s smile had always been brilliant.

It had also often been a lie.

"I have to go," the words were barely out of his mouth before he'd gotten to his feet, pressed a quick kiss to Hina’s cheek, and charged out of the shop. He was pretty sure he'd heard them shouting after him, but he couldn't wait, couldn't stop and explain. It was too much and he needed to move. To do something.

So he made a call.

"Sup?" Kazutora always answered the phone like someone who gave exactly zero fucks about who was on the other end of the line.

"You said you had some leads, right?"

There was a long pause and he wouldn't really have blamed Kazutora if he'd hung up on him for blowing him off the other night, but just when he was sure that's what had happened Kazutora spoke again. "Yeah, yeah, I found some leads in the Shinjuku ward, not... not like anything definite, but the word is they've got a building down there where the top brass come for meetings and stuff. There's a club or something on the bottom floor."

"Okay, can you... can you go with me there tonight? I need to see him."

"Sure, man, of course, whatever you need," he sounded almost excited and for some reason that had tears welling up in his eyes again.

Everyone else had been so ready to accept this future. So happy to take Mikey at his word. It was... kind of nice to hear someone who wasn't. To know he wasn't alone in this. Not that he thought the others wouldn't have helped if he told them what was going on, but... he didn't wanna risk it. Not unless he had to.

"I, uh, I could ask Chifuru if I can borrow the scooter we use for deliveries? Or we could just take the train?"

He and Kazutora had never been friends, they hadn't had the chance and they'd only talked a couple times since they'd agreed to work together to find Mikey. He kind of wished they had more time. Of course, maybe if he managed to get back there again and change Mikey's mind, they'd have a chance.

He hoped so.

"We can take the train. I'll meet you at the pet shop tonight at closing time?"

"Sure, yeah, okay."

"Thanks, Kazutora," he said and he's not sure if he'd ever meant a thank you half as much as he meant that one.

"Uh, yeah, sure, I'll... I'll see you then, uh, Takemitchy."

The nickname sounded awkward coming from Kazutora, like he wasn't sure he was allowed to use it. Or maybe like he wasn't used to people thanking him. He wasn't sure, but before he could think of anything else to say in response the call is over. 

And just like that, he had a plan.

Well, maybe not a plan plan, but definitely the start of a plan.

Or something like... plan adjacent.

Step One: Find Mikey.

Step Two: Get in to see Mikey.

Step Three: Talk some sense into current Mikey and get him to shake his hand so he could go back and talk some sense into past Mikey.

It was simple, but he'd never been any good at complex plans so simple was definitely the better choice. He couldn't think about what might happen if the handshake didn't work, of what he might do if he failed to find Mikey. He couldn't think about any of that. Failure wasn't an option. He had to find him and go there and change things and get back in time to marry Hina.

Yeah. 

Failure wasn't an option.

He still had a couple hours to kill before closing time and, though he was sure he could have gone to the shop early and hung out, he needed the time to just... not think about anything for a while so he rode the train up and down the line until it was time to head to the shop.

The little bell over the door rang out as he pushed into the shop a few minutes before closing time to find Chifuru behind the counter reading a magazine.

He glanced up as he came in, grinning, "Hey Takemitchy! You okay? We were real worried when you left the shop the way you did. I mean, Hina said it was fine and you just remembered you had to pick up something from work, but, I mean, you've been kind of weird for a while, you know?"

"Yeah, I know, I'm sorry about that," he replied, offering Chifuru a wan smile. "Kazutora around?"

"He's in the back finishing up. You guys going out tonight or something?"

He wasn't sure how much Kazutora had told him and the last thing he wanted to do was worry him, so he smiled, "Yeah, I never really got to know him before, you know?"

"Oh, yeah, sure, definitely," Chifuru smiled brilliantly. "That's awesome. He sucks at making friends so it's cool that you're willing to hang out with him."

"Who sucks at making friends?" Kazutora inquired, shouldering through the curtain with a wiggling puppy slung over one arm.

"You do," Chifuru answered easily, ducking around the counter to take the puppy from him. "Like you're really, really bad at it. Like I don't even know how you and Baji managed to hit it off."

"He imprinted on me like a baby duck when we were in primary. Couldn't get rid of him."  

"Yeah, I'll bet," Chifuru snickered, shutting the puppy into his kennel with the others. "Well, you guys have fun. Call me if you need a ride home or something. Don't drink too much and don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Sure, sure," Kazutora replied, untying his apron and dropping it on the counter. "Lock up when I'm gone. Don't just leave the door unlocked like an idiot while you're counting out the till."

"Hey! I don't do that," Chifuru called after them to which Kazutora just laughed.

"You guys get along really well, huh?" He asked as they walked down the street towards the station. 

"I guess. Can see why Baji liked him so much," Kazutora replied, a slim smile on his lips as he folded his arms behind his head. "He's a good guy. Lot better to me than I deserve."

He wasn't sure what to say to that.

The train ride to Shinjuku was short and uneventful, the train packed with late evening commuters and kids heading out for the night. 

The club Kazutora led him to was a big brick building with a long line down the block filled with people in shiny outfits talking loudly as they waited their turn. He could hear the beat of the music streaming from inside almost the second they left the station. A small crowd of folks in dark clothes and heavy make up were gathered a bit down the street smoking and laughing. 

They didn't bother with the line, instead just striding up to the dark-clad man at the door who turned his gaze to them and stared at them blankly for a long moment before finally asking, "What you looking at?"

"I need to see Mikey," he told him, noticing the way the man immediately stiffened. For a moment he was sure the man looked almost scared, then his expression settled back into the careful non-expression of bodyguards and bouncers everywhere.

"Ain't nobody here by that name, get lost," he snarled, jerking his chin at them. 

Oh yeah, Mikey was definitely there. Or someone who knew where Mikey could be found was and either was good as far as he was concerned.

"No," he replied, glaring up at the bouncer, hands balled into fists at his sides. "Tell the boss Takemitchy is here to see him."

The bouncer's face did a complicated thing where it twisted around like it couldn't decide whether to laugh or turn red with rage, "Get the fuck out of here before I throw you out, you little shit."

"Motherfucker," Kazutora commented, grinning as he draped an arm over Takemichi’s shoulders. "You're gonna regret that."

+++

Naoto was pretty pissed when he called him to come bail him out after he sucker punched the gate-keeping asshole at the club and he'd gotten a lecture as Naoto had driven him home that night.

Like his swollen eye and busted lip weren’t lecture enough. 

Naoto had made him promise he wouldn't go back to the club. It was a promise he had no intention of keeping, but he could at least acknowledge that maybe punching the bouncer hadn't been the best way to get in to see Mikey. Luckily, he'd managed to convince Kazutora to take off before the cops had shown up, he was pretty sure Naoto would have been less willing to bail him out.

"What were you even thinking?" Naoto growled, hands tight on the steering wheel. "You could have been killed. Didn’t I tell you how dangerous Bonten is? Do you want to make my sister a widow before she's a wife?"

He didn't dignify that with an answer. It wasn't like he didn't know it was dangerous, he probably knew better than Naoto did considering how often he'd almost died or had the shit kicked out of him over the last couple years, but he couldn't leave it alone. Couldn't leave him alone. No way. He'd just have to try again.

Of course, as it turned out, finding out where Mikey might be found was the easy part. The hard part was getting to him.

Even after they’d roped Chifuru into their plans, even with the three of them working together, he hadn't been able to slip into the club yet. He'd tried sneaking in as a delivery person, as a salesman, with a group of kids they'd paid ten thousand yen to help get him in the club and nothing had worked. 

It sucked.

They’d been at it for days and he wasn't sure what else to do.

He was still determined to find him, to talk to him, but... he was also at a loss for what to do next which was when Hina had told him she'd helped the guys plan a birthday party for him.

The birthday party, she confessed to him as she towed him into the bike shop where his friends were waiting, was an attempt to get his mind off things, at least for a little while. 

And it worked.

Kind of.

He’d only cried once or twice and it was always nice to hang out with everyone.

+++

They’d been there for a couple hours, had a few beers, and Hina had wandered off to talk to someone when Draken had clapped him on the shoulder and gone to get them both another. He was feeling pretty good, the best he’d felt since the day at Mitsuya’s shop when he’d made his decision to save Mikey no matter what. He was pretty sure he’d started to doze off when someone suddenly sat down beside him, close enough that they were pressed against his side. He startled a little when he glanced over to find Inui sitting there. 

“Inupi! Where you been, man? I haven’t seen you all night. You doing okay?”

“Yeah, had a date. Sorry I couldn’t get here earlier.”

“It’s cool, I’m just glad to see you. It’s nice to be with my friends,” he replied, the exhaustion coming back in on a great whoosh of sound and emotion as he laid his head against Inupi’s shoulder. “Who you dating anyway? They cute?”

“Yeah, real cute,” he answered, voice soft. “Hey Takemitchy?”

“Hm?”

“You really wanna see Mikey?”

“Course I do. Need to talk to him to get back there, ya know?”

It occurred to him only after the words had stumbled out of his mouth that Inui wouldn’t know what the hell he was talking about.

It didn’t used to be so tough to keep it straight who knew about it.

Inui seemed unconcerned though as he continued, “I think I can get you in to see him, if you’re really sure you want to.”

A bucket of ice water dumped over his head couldn’t have woken him up faster than that, whirling around to grab Inui’s shoulders even as his head screamed protest and his dinner threatened to come back up on him as the world wiggled and spun around him. He didn’t have to think about it, the answer already out almost before Inupi finished speaking, “Yes! Kazutora and I have been trying to figure a way in all week! You’re so awesome!”

Inui’s flushed an brilliant shade of pink across his nose, “Nah, I just... I know a guy is all. Okay,” Inupi replied, nodding. “Let me make a call and maybe... maybe don’t tell everyone else where we’re going. Draken’s been kinda weird about it whenever I brought it up. Meet you outside in five?”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. Thanks, Inupi.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Inui replied solemnly. “He’s a different person and I don’t think you’re gonna like the person he’s become.”

He nodded, biting his tongue on the gratitude that wanted to spill out, “Okay. I’ll see you outside.”

Inui nodded, turning on his heel and walking towards the door, phone already pressed against his ear.

He couldn’t leave without talking to Hina so he pushed himself up from the couch and glanced around, finally locating her where she was sitting on a desk, chatting animatedly with Chifuru about hedgehogs.

“Hey you, did something good happen?” She asked, smiling. “You look happy.”

“Yeah, something,” he hesitated, uncertain what to say before finally settling on. “Inupi is gonna take me for a ride on his bike.” 

Her smile faded a little at the edges, “You’ve found a way to talk to Mikey, haven’t you?”

“Maybe,” he replied, “I don’t know, I hope so.”

“Good luck,” she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek that warmed him down to his toes. “Come back safe, okay?”

If he met Mikey and meeting him allowed him to change things... he didn’t know what it would mean for any of them. 

But he couldn’t think about that yet, because even if everything went bad... he still needed to try.

Mikey deserved to be saved.

Whether he liked it or not.

“Thanks,” he grinned, catching her hand and squeezing it. “I’ll see you soon. Chifuru, could you let Kazutora know I found a way to see him?”

“Yeah, of course. You sure you wanna go alone?” Chifuru asked, looking a little sick. He'd been really supportive during their efforts to get inside the club, but he could tell the idea of him going back in time again freaked him out a little. He couldn't really blame either of them for being nervous. It was hard to let go of a good thing. “I could go with you if you want?”

“Nah, I think this is the part I have to do on my own.”

“Okay,” Chifuru replied, clapping him on the back. "Go get him back."

+++

Inui had his bike pulled up the curb, the engine idling as he stood astride it. His phone was still pressed to his ear and as he got closer he heard him say, “Gotta go, I’ll see you soon.”

He didn’t have to ask to know who’d been on the other end of the line. He remembered that look and the person he’d seen it directed at. He should have remembered earlier that in every future, Koko was always there.

He was an

Inui had his bike pulled up to the curb, the engine idling as he stood astride it. His phone was still pressed to his ear and as he got closer he heard him say, “Gotta go, I’ll see you soon.”

He didn’t have to ask to know who’d been on the other end of the line. He remembered that look and the person he’d seen it directed at. He should have remembered earlier that in every future, Koko was always there.

He was an idiot for not thinking of it sooner.

“Things going okay with you two?”

Inui offered him a shy, slim smile and shrugged helplessly, “I guess. Better than they used to be.”

“I’m glad, I know you care about him a lot,” he replied, taking the helmet Inui offered and donning it before settling onto the bike behind him. He didn’t ask if Koko was the guy Inui knew or how Koko had gotten tangled up in Mikey’s business. He was sure he’d find out the parts he needed to know soon enough.

“Yeah,” Inui answered and then he revved the engine and they sped off into the night. “I do.”

The ride to the club seemed both too long and not long enough and then Inui was pulling up to the curb downtown near the mouth of an alley behind the building he and Kazutora had been trying to figure a way into all week.

There was a tall man with long pale hair leaning against the wall, typing furiously on his phone, who glanced up when the bike pulled up.

Koko, twelve years later, looked a lot like he always looked in all the futures he’d seen him in. He was slim and neatly dressed in a high-necked shirt and loose pants. The long pale hair hiding one side of his face from view was new, but the striped undercut and the long trailing earrings on the other were familiar enough. He looked every inch the executive he probably was and his lips twisted into a sneer when he saw them. 

He pushed off the wall, striding over, heels of his expensive sandals clacking loud against the cement. “Didn’t say you could bring a plus one, Inupi.”

“I told you I needed a favor, Koko,” Inui replied, unperturbed by Koko’s irritation as he motioned for Takemitchy to get off the bike and cut the engine. He slid off the back, stepping back to watch as Inui set down the kickstand and gently leaned the weight of his bike into it before he swung off the bike and stepped purposefully into Koko’s space, close enough that he could see Koko had to tilt his head up just a little to glare into Inui’s face.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t think it was that kind of favor.”

There was something about the way he said it that made him feel like he was missing something... and probably happier in his ignorance. Inui hadn’t said Koko was the person he was dating, but he wasn’t totally stupid.

“Your own fault for not asking,” Inui replied easily, reaching up to brush Kokonoi’s hair back from his face, only to have his hand batted away impatiently.

“I already told you this is a bad idea,” Koko scowled, shooting him the sort of glance that could have stripped paint off a wall. “This is a bad idea, Takemitchy.”

“He needs to see him, Koko,” Inui answered for him, his voice solemn. “If he’s gonna move on, he needs to see him one last time.”

“Closure? You’re here for fucking closure?” Koko snapped, somehow sounding both incredulous and offended all at once. “No, you know what, fuck you. Fuck both of you. This is fucking stupid and you’re gonna get all of us killed. For closure.”

Koko whirled away, storming off back up the sidewalk towards the alley beyond and with him any chance he had of getting to Mikey, of asking the questions he needed answered.

“Please!” 

He hadn’t mean to shout, but the word was out of his mouth before he could stop it or think better of it, and he’s bent at the waist, bowing low, staring down at his scuffed, holey sneakers and the gutter he’s standing in. “I need to talk to Mikey, Koko-kun. Please just... please help me.”

Only silence greeted his words and for a long moment he was certain he wouldn’t respond, but at least he wasn’t walking away anymore. That was something. He balled his hands into fists at his side. 

Please.

Please.

“Why now?” Koko’s heels clicked loud against the pavement as he came a step closer and then another. “It’s been years and we haven’t heard a word from you and now, all of a sudden, you’re here making demands. Why does it even matter?”

There was no explanation he could offer that would make sense. Nothing he could say or do that’d make a difference. 

Should he apologize for the person he’d been the past twelve years. For the fact that that person had not cared about them the way he did? It sounded crazy. It was crazy. His whole life was a mad race to get to a destination he might never see. 

He should have been there. 

He would have been there if he’d been himself.

He wouldn’t have let Mikey be alone.

The power to travel through time and yet he still kept missing every opportunity that mattered.

No, there was no reason he could give that would make sense to Koko or Inui.

He wasn’t even certain that meeting with Mikey would change anything. That he’d really be able to strike a deal with Mikey the way he’d struck his first deal with Naoto.

But even if it was for nothing... he still wanted to see him. To tell him he wasn’t afraid of him. That he was gonna fight for him. 

Mikey needed to know that.

To hear it from him. 

He....

“It’s his birthday, you know,” Inui’s voice was soft and if he were any farther away he wouldn’t have heard it at all. Wouldn’t have heard the plea in it.

“Why would I know that?” Koko snapped, sounding weirdly defensive.

“They threw a party for him at the shop and everyone was there. His girl was there, his friends were there. He’s getting married the day after tomorrow to a girl he loves and I have never seen anyone who looked so damn miserable.”

Had he?

That couldn’t be right, could it?

He’d been happy to be there with them, with her, he was happy, it was just...

He kept seeing Mikey’s smile in his head.

Koko barked a laugh, caustic and harsh as battery acid, “Seriously? That’s what you’ve got?”

“Yeah, that’s it,” Inui replied dryly. “Consider it an early wedding present or a birthday present, whatever. Or maybe just think of this as payback for that time he agreed to face hell to try to save you.”

“Fuck’s sake,” Koko breathed, but there was a levity to his voice that hadn’t been there before. “You’re gonna be the death of me, Seishu. Fine. Come on.”

He straightened, a grin on his face and a thank you on his lips only to find Koko glaring at him again, waving his words away with an impatient gesture before he had a chance to utter them, “Don’t! Don’t fucking thank me. You’re never gonna get past Kakucho. No one sees the boss unless the boss wants to be seen. I’m just setting you up for disappointment.”

Koko racked a hand through his blond hair and threw a glance at Inui’s bike, “You sure you wanna park that here?”

“It’s fine,” Inui replied easily, “I’ll check it over before we leave.”

“Fine, it’s your funeral,” Koko huffed, turning away from them. He had the same tattoo Mikey had on his neck inked high in his hairline. 

Izuna’s symbol.

“Koko-kun?”

“What is it now?” He asked, not bothering to turn back as he strode away down the surprisingly well-maintained alleyway. 

“That tatt-“

“Don’t.”

It was Inui who said it, a low warning growl of a word as Koko went rigid before them, almost but not quite stumbling over his own feet.

Heat rushed into his cheeks and he glanced at Inui who looked genuinely angry. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Inui look angry before, not really.

“Sorry,” he said, “I won’t ask.”

Well, he’d still ask probably, he just wouldn’t ask Koko. 

He’d ask Mikey instead.

After a long moment, Koko began striding forward down the alley to a door with no handle was set back into the wall. He pressed a card against a panel until, with a quiet buzz of sound, the door popped open to reveal the quiet, dark-paneled hall beyond. 

“Don’t touch anything, don’t look at anything, don’t talk to anyone,” Koko warned as he led them down the hall past three doors and up a flight of stairs into another hall. “You don’t exist here, got it? I don’t know what the fuck you’ve been doing the last whatever many years and I don’t care, but you do not want to be noticed here.”

No sooner had those words left Koko’s mouth then they turned the corner into another hall, this one covered with a thick plush carpet that muffled their steps, and found themselves confronted by a familiar face. 

Hanma leered at them with that awful Cheshire Cat smile of his, not bothering to move from where he was lazing against the wall, “Oh ho, this could be fun. Would you look who it is? The Boss know you’ve been out picking up strays, Koko-kun?”

“Shut it or I’ll dock your pay, asshole,” Koko snapped, spine ramrod straight as he stalked down the hallways toward him, raising a hand to tap the side of his nose. “Gonna have a hard time paying for that habit when I start paying you in hundred yen coins.”

“Fuck you too, Koko, I’ll remember that,” Hanma chortled, looking more amused than offended. Koko reached back behind him with his free hand, snatching hold of Inui’s wrist as if he was worried Hanna might make a grab for him.

Takemichi met Hanma’s gaze as they walked past him and he was struck again, as he had been all those years ago, by how empty it was.

Inui, for his part, stared back at Hanma with a baleful glare as if he’d like nothing better than to wipe the smirk off his face, but he let Koko drag him down the long corridor and through the door at the end into yet another stairwell without protest. 

Up and up they went, past well-dressed men with bruises and scars. Some looked vaguely familiar, like people he’d known once upon a time, but far more were complete strangers. All of them looked like the sort of people who’d as soon kill you as look at you and all of them stayed well out of Koko’s path.

“This is as far as we go,” Koko said finally, pulling Inui to a sudden stop beside him as he gestured at the door at the end of the latest hall. “We’ll be waiting here to take you back down once he throws you out.”

“Okay, thank you,” he replied automatically, privately relieved that Koko was willing to take him back to the entrance. He was pretty sure he’d never have found his way on his own. The whole building seemed like it was designed to confuse people or wear them out or both.

Koko scowled, “I’m not doing it for you.”

“Yeah, I know,” he replied, “but thank you anyway.”

The walk up that final set of stairs and down that last deserted hall seemed painfully long without anyone beside him and he had to squash the desire to run down it. 

Mikey was so close. 

For him it had only been a couple months since he’d last seen him, but it felt longer, so much longer. Like maybe it had really been twelve years. Like it had been a lifetime. 

He hadn’t told Hina, hadn’t told anyone, but almost every night since they’d opened that time capsule, since he’d watched Mikey’s video, his final message to him, he’d woken up screaming. 

His dreams were lousy with all the horrors he’d seen and a hundred new ones, because after he’d begged and pleaded and promised not to assault any more bouncers, Naoto had eventually let him have copies of the files his department had gathered on the group Mikey was running. The things they’d done, the players they knew about, how it was all connected. 

Then, suddenly, he was there.

He had rounded a corner no different than the last two he’d passed and found Kakucho staring back at him from his place in front of the unassuming door at the end of the hall marked: “Roof Access.”

It was weird seeing him with a full head of hair.

It was weird seeing him at all.

“Hey Kakucho,” he called, shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks, at a loss for what else to do or say. 

Kakucho nodded back at him, “He said you’d probably show up eventually, but he was hoping you wouldn’t.”

“Yeah?” He asked, smile tugging at his lips. “You don’t look surprised to see me.”

“I’m not,” Kakucho agreed, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “You said your battle wasn’t over. Figured you’d be by to finish things eventually.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, fingers clenching into fists, out of sight. “You know me.”

“I guess I do,” Kakucho answered, nodding, and he felt a sudden pang of sadness. He couldn’t see Kakucho’s tattoo but he knew he must have one too, a physical reminder of Izana. 

He would figure out how to make it right.

For Kakucho and Kokonoi too, because this couldn’t be the life they wanted either. He didn’t know what had happened to lead them to Bonten, but he hoped saving Mikey might fix things for them too.

“Be careful,” Kakucho said, as he turned to the door and pushed it open. “He’s not the boy you knew.”

And then they were stepping through onto the rooftop beyond.

The rooftop was empty aside from a couple of guys standing unobtrusively near the corners of the rooftop, clearly trying to blend in with the night and failing miserably. 

But they didn’t matter.

Even Kakucho didn’t matter, his presence becoming just that much background noise.

The only person who mattered was the pale-haired man sitting high above them on the building’s water tower, his back to the door, his face turned up to the sky.

Mikey.

He saw the men along the edge of the roof tense up as their boss suddenly moved, uncoiling from his seated position almost lazily, flowing like water to his feet and stretching briefly before he turned and dropped neatly down onto the rooftop with a quiet thump.

His movements were slow and measured the way they’d always been, betraying that old easy confidence. 

The man striding towards him across the rooftop before him was rail thin, as sharp and imposing as switchblade and the slap of his sandals seemed to echo all around him, far louder than they should have been. His short hair was pale as the moon, his undercut so freshly shaven there was barely even a hint of it’s true color. 

The man who both was and wasn’t Mikey stopped just in front of him, not quite touching. He’d seemed taller at a distance, but standing so close he realized that they were pretty much the same height now.

His clothes were black and well-tailored and he knew just by looking at them that Mitsuba had made them, that they had probably been special ordered and sent through a dozen back channels to get to him, but that the suit was something fashioned by the same hands that had fashioned Toman’s first uniform, loose and easy to move in and still somehow the height of style. Even if this outfit was probably made from far more expensive fabrics then any he would have worn back then. 

He was still Mikey after all.

Their Mikey, his Mikey.

And he wasn’t.

His eyes were the same blue they’d always been, but they were... colder, more shuttered then he’d ever seen them, then they’d been even that night in the ruins outside Manila. They stared at each other for long, silent moments.

He didn’t flinch when Mikey finally raised a hand to him, fingers settling against his face, cool in the warm night air, against the flush in his cheeks. It was a light touch, just the barest pressure as Mikey gently, carefully, tilted his face this way and that, but he gave way before it.

“I thought you’d look different.” Mikey commented finally, voice soft and flat, lips curved in a parody of a smile, and he was reminded of that other life again, of that dark-haired Mikey who had had the same look in his eyes, same miserable smile on his lips. Of fingers that had eventually grown cold beneath his touch and an ache in his chest he still couldn’t shake. There was a lump in his throat and his eyes were already swimming with unwanted tears. “Always pictured you with a mustache, maybe a goatee.”

“I’d look stupid with a mustache,” he replied, something that sounded like a laugh but felt like a sob stumbling past his lips. It was a strange wet sound and tears spilled warm down his cheeks to splash across Mikey’s fingers.

He blinked back the tears frantically and when that didn’t work he dashed them away impatiently with the back of his hand.

“You would,” Mikey agreed, the smile on his lips fading, slow but as inevitable as the setting sun. “Still such a crybaby.”

“So what?” He snapped, sniffling loudly, face hot with embarrassment. "Who wouldn't cry seeing an old friend?"

“You aren’t supposed to be here, Takemitchy,” he murmured, eyes darting around his face, unable to settle on a single point to stare at, like he was trying to find all the minute changes, memorize them. 

“I would have been here sooner if you weren’t so hard to get to,” he said, shrugging his shoulders, because how could Mikey not know that that tape would eventually bring him to him as surely as if he’d called him up and asked him to come by. 

Only it really seemed like he didn’t know, because he just stared back at him, expression painfully blank aside from the slightest furrow in his brow before he began rattling off words like he was reading a shopping list. “Getting married, living a peaceful life, starting a family, relaxing and enjoying your happy life.”

His mouth opened and closed, but he couldn’t seem to form a response, couldn’t seem to say anything at all.

“Go home, Takemitchy,” Mikey commented, maybe taking his silence as agreement or... something. His head fell to the side, lips twitching in something that was almost but not quite a smile. “You’ve gotten your wish, haven’t you?”

His wish for their happiness. 

That stupid, well-meaning message. He’d thought he was being so cool. That wish for a future, for all of them, one where they could all smile together.

He hadn’t realized those words could be like stones, impossibly heavy, too much for any one person to carry alone, thrown into a pond and left to sink, slowly dragging Mikey down with them.

He knew what it was like to try to carry that kind of weight. To feel the things, the people that you loved, slip through your fingers again and again. Fighting to save what you could. But most of all, he knew he could never have achieved anything alone. Without all the help and support he’d received along the way.

He wasn’t sure why he did it. 

Not exactly.

There was no conscious decision, no moment where it was even a thought in his head. 

There was just the moment where he was standing there, staring into Mikey’s face, listening to the echo of Mikey’s words from the day he left swinging back to him ten years later and then there was the crunch of Mikey’s nose beneath his fist and the sharp shot of pain that reverberated up his arm. He’d swung hard and fast just like they’d taught him to do, reflexes somehow decently sharp even after all this time. 

He wondered vaguely if he’d been working out in that shitty little apartment of his, keeping himself in shape for a day like today without ever knowing why. His heart was beating like a drum as he took a second swing, but Mikey was ready for it, stepping aside and catching him in the stomach with a blow that knocked the breath out of him. Though it was more surprise and less pain that left him gasping as Mikey grabbed him, shoving him to the ground and pinning him there with a knee in his back and his arm wrenched up behind him, just shy of painful.

Stupid.

This wasn’t what he’d come here for.

“You can have that one,” Mikey murmured against his ear. “Can’t give you more than that or they’ll remember you as a threat. It’ll make me look weak. Right now you’re just some guy we used to know. It’s safer for you if you stay that way.”

Mikey had gotten stronger.

Of course, Mikey had gotten stronger. He was thin and wiry, but he had always hit with the force of a hurricane even when he was barely trying. He reached back with his free hand, twisting to grab a fistful of Mikey’s hair, holding tight though he didn’t really think for a second he’d have been able to keep him close if Mikey had wanted to go. “You didn’t have to do this. If things went wrong I would have fixed them.”

Every breath he took felt too big for his throat, like any second one would get stuck and he’d choke on it.

Mikey smelled like aftershave or cologne, something slick and polished and expensive. Somehow he hadn’t even realized he knew what Mikey smelled like until the scent of soap and sweat was gone, smoothed to death by what he was pretty sure was the scent of wealth and maturity and being a total asshole.

“Like you fixed it for Baji? Emma? Izana?” Each word felt like a slap, but there was nothing like anger in Mikey’s voice, just that same terrible, awful calm resignation. Somehow that made it worse. “You can’t fix what’s already broken, Takemitchy.”

It sounded so reasonable when he said it like that, because it was just the truth. 

He couldn’t fix everything.

He’d tried, but he failed so many times, in so many ways.

But Mikey wasn’t talking about the people he’d failed, not really.

“You aren’t broken,” he whispered.

Mikey continued as if he hadn’t heard, “Why does it bother you so much? I thought you’d be happy.”

He sounded... puzzled, as if he couldn’t quite figure out what the problem was and it made him want to hit him again.

“Everyone was supposed to include you, Mikey.”

Mikey hummed, “Yeah, I thought you might say something like that. I’ve had a lot of time to think about this, about what you’d say, what you’d do. It doesn’t matter though, does it? I made my decision before you came back so even if you went back there again, you wouldn’t be able to stop it.”

“Bullshit. I’m not scared of you. I’ve never been scared of you, I....”

“But you were,” Mikey replied, his voice soft. “The you that was left behind... he was scared of me. I barely had to threaten him and he ran away. From his home, from his friends, from his girl, left it all behind with barely a word. He was nothing like you. He knew when to quit.”

Oh. Well. That explained how he’d ended up in the same crap apartment, the same dead-end job. 

“He wasn’t me,” he snarled, giving Mikey’s hair a sharp tug. 

“Yeah, that’s true,” Mikey replied, the faintest trace of humor and warmth in his words. “I really missed you, but things were... easier when you were gone.”

“Then this time I won’t leave,” he insisted vehemently. “I’ll stay right by your side and scold you when you go too far. I’ll make sure you know you’re not alone.”

Mikey huffed something that might have sounded like a laugh if it wasn't so sad, "You really aren’t, are you? I scared myself, but I really never scared you, did I?”

“Hell no.” 

It wasn’t true, of course, Mikey had scared him plenty of times but... that had been before.

“Then maybe I should change that,” Mikey cut in, a ghost of his old laugh against the back of his neck. The grip on his arm changed, the slightest adjustment of pressure, and then white hot agony shot up his arm as a sickening crack echoed across the rooftop. Tears were rolling down his face again as he bit his bottom lip, tasted blood. And then the weight pinning him down was gone as Mikey rolled to his feet. He scrambled to a sitting position, biting down on a scream as he accidentally put pressure on his probably broken wrist and he yanked it protectively against his chest.

Towering over him, still expressionless, Mikey slid his hands into his pockets, “This is who I am, Takemitchy. Go home. Marry your girl, live your life. You don’t have to worry about the future anymore. I told you I’d protect everyone and I have. This was my choice. You wanted everyone to be happy and they are. They didn’t need me for that and neither do you.”

“The hell we don’t,” he snapped, managing with difficulty to shove and stumble his way to his feet, to ignore the throbbing pain in his wrist in favor of advancing on Mikey again, ignoring the men he could see stepping forward from the corner of his eye. They didn’t matter, nothing mattered but getting Mikey to understand.

He couldn’t.

He wouldn’t .

Mikey offered him an indulgent smile that said he was being naïve and stupid and couldn’t possibly understand and he wanted to wipe it off his face so bad he could taste it.

“This isn’t the future you wanted.”

“No, but it was the future I was always going to get. I’m satisfied with the way things turned out,” Mikey replied evenly. “I have no regrets.”

He loved Hina.

He’d loved her since the first time he’d spoken to her. Had loved her when they were together and when they were apart and every moment in between. 

He had loved her even when she was just a girl he used to know. When he’d had nothing else in his life he’d cared about, he’d still had his memory of her.

But she wasn’t the only person he loved anymore.

Hadn’t been for a long time.

He loved Toman. 

He loved Draken and Chifuru and Naoto and Hakkai and Mitsuba and Inui and everyone else he’d fought and bled with.

And he loved Mikey.

He’d loved him almost since the moment he’d met him. Since the moment Mikey had come to his defense, had crouched down to look into his swollen, bloody face and declared them friends with that big, shit-eating grin.

He loved that Mikey and he loved the Mikey who’d died in his arms in Manila and the Mikey who’d just broken his wrist to scare him away, to keep him safe from the danger he thought he represented.

He'd been a loser at sixteen and a loser at thirty-five and he was still a loser now, just maybe not as much of a loser as he had been. He was a better man because of all of them, yeah, but especially because of Hina... and Mikey. Hina had given him someone to fight for. Mikey had helped show him how to fight for it. Had helped him become someone who could face down any obstacle if it meant he could protect the things that were important to him. He’d helped him become a better person than he would have ever been otherwise. He was more than a friend he was....

He was family .

They were all his family, the family he’d found and chosen for himself.

He just hadn’t realized what that meant until he’d been lying in bed staring at that too familiar tattoo on the back of a stranger’s slim neck and he... he had had to know. It was why he’d gone to see Draken. It was why he’d had everyone trying to find out something, anything, a way to get him here, to meet him.

Until he’d seen the Mikey of twelve years ago smiling at him through a TV screen.

Mikey had always been worth fighting for and he was definitely worth risking this happy ending for, because any future without him in it, free and happy and smiling, really smiling, from his place in the center of them all, was a future he wanted to live in.

He thought, maybe, if he’d still been the man he’d been when he fell on the train tracks that first day then this future Mikey had purchased for him, for them, with his own pain and the blood of so many others, would have been enough.

They were all happy here, he’d seen it, and he could be happy here too. Maybe they weren’t as happy as they could have been, but they were happy enough. If he were willing to ignore Mikey’s pain, to just let it go and accept the gift they’d been given, they could all just have kept living those satisfying lives.

But he wasn’t. 

Mikey had helped make certain he could never be that man again. That fool who’d fallen in front of the train. That coward who’d left all the good things in his life to run away from the bad.

He couldn’t be.

He’d lived so many lives and in every one he....

“Not without you,” he murmured leaning forward, so close that he could feel Mikey’s warm breath against his face, could smell the expensive alcohol he must have been drinking. “It has to be all or nothing, Mikey.”

Mikey didn’t move away, just stared back at him with cold dead eyes, face wiped clean of expression, “You really don’t know when to quit.”

“It’s my only redeeming quality,” he agreed and then he shoved his uninjured hand into the space between them, poking Mikey in the stomach with his fingertips, “If you really don’t have any regrets, shake my hand.”

Mikey snorted, “So, what’s your plan?”

“What do you think? I’m gonna figure out a way to go back in time and talk some sense into you before you do whatever the hell it is you did to get us here.”

“I don’t want or need you to save me, Takemitchy. I think I’ve been very clear about that.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t need you to do any of... this ,” he grumbled, gesturing around vaguely with his free hand. “But here we are.”

He remembered that other Mikey’s dead-eyed stare on a hot night outside of Manila and the feel of the gun’s muzzle jabbed against his cheek and he shivered.

He remembered the weight of Mikey’s body against him.

The warm spray of his blood.

And he wanted to scream.

He wasn’t scared of him. 

He hadn’t been scared of him then and he wasn’t scared now. 

He was scared for him. 

In that future, he hadn’t been able to leave him there, even though Naoto had tried to talk him into it. Into just going back while he took care of it, that it wouldn't even matter because he'd have changed it all if he managed to succeed anyway. But he hadn't been able to let him go. Instead, Naoto had called the cops and he’d sat there with him until someone had come and taken him away.

He hadn’t wanted him to be alone.

He still didn’t.

“What do you want from me, Takemitchy?”

“I want you to be with us. I want everyone to be safe and happy, all of us. And if that means I need to sit there for the next twelve years to make sure I’m there to stop you every time you go too far, every time you try to take on too much, then that’s what I’m gonna do.”

“No.”

It’s one word, but it has the force of a blow behind it.

Mikey’s expression had smoothed out again and this time it scared the shit out of him, because a determined Mikey was invincible, always had been.

“This is what I wanted. Everyone is alive and everyone is happy. This is what you wished for too. Let this be enough.”

It sounded so reasonable when he said it like that.

It pissed him off.

“I can’t,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

A hand settled against his own, palm smooth and cool to the touch, clutching his fingers hard.

And it’s just a hand, just a touch. There was no pull of power, no swirl of vertigo… nothing. 

It was just a handshake.

Mikey stared into his face and there was jagged glass in his smile, “I already told you, I have no regrets, Takemitchy. It’s time to accept that and move on.”

Another cold chill washed down his spine.

“You told me how you do it,” Mikey commented, giving his hand a last almost gentle squeeze before dropping it. “I assume you already tried this with Naoto and it didn’t work, right? Why did you think it would work with me?”

“Because this wasn’t the future you wanted,” he managed, shrugging his shoulders helplessly. “But even if we can’t change the past....”

Mikey clapped his free hand down on his shoulder, squeezing briefly, “No, it’s time for you to go. Go live your life, Takemitchy. I don’t need a hero.”

Hero.

Was that what Mikey thought he was?

He’d been called that before.

He didn’t feel like a hero. 

He never had. All this time he’d felt like he was just barely keeping his head above water.

Heroes didn’t make as many mistakes as he did.

Heroes didn’t lose and lose and lose .

Heroes could save the people who mattered most.

“You’ll understand eventually,” Mikey said as he withdrew, turning his back to him and pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He tapped one out, slipping it between his lips before pulling a lighter from his pocket and flicking it to life in his hands, taking a deep drag. He pocketed the lighter once more as he blew the smoke out into the air between them, obscuring his view of him as he turned away. “It’s better this way. This is the way things should be.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see movement again, those bodyguards melting out of the shadows, prompted by some invisible cue to advance now that the meeting was over.

“Just because you keep saying it doesn’t make it true.”

“See that he gets home safely,” Mikey commented, glancing back over his shoulder, lit cigarette dangling from his lips and he looked...

He looked lonely.

Somehow it had taken him all these years to finally realize that Mikey’s pleasant, dreamy smile had often been phenomenally lonely. 

But where before that loneliness had been tinged with warmth, with laughter, now it was just... empty. Mikey’s face had always had a terrible brilliance to it, both in happiness and in sorrow.

"I'm gonna find a way back, Mikey. I'm gonna save you."

His smile was bright and cheerful and it broke his heart to pieces, “It really was nice seeing you again, Takemitchy, but if you come back here, I’ll kill you.”

It was a lie, he knew it was a lie, but he still couldn’t bring himself to move or fight as he was all but carried away.

After all, Mikey had always been capable of doing terrible things for the people he loved.

+++

“I’ll take him from here,” Kakucho waved them off as soon as they hit the hall, but he couldn’t bring himself to be grateful, couldn’t bring himself to feel anything but numb. “Go get the boss a snack.”

Kakucho didn’t say a word to him as he escorted him downstairs and he was... weirdly grateful for that. He was also grateful that Kakucho didn’t say anything about the tears clouding his vision or spilling down his cheeks either. He even stopped inside the stairwell to give him time to get himself together before he had to face Inui and Koko again. 

They were still in the hall where he’d left them, leaning against the wall together, talking in hushed tones and he noticed absently that Koko looked... weird. Different somehow from how he’d looked from when they arrived, his arms wrapped tight around his waist. He looked... more like the boy he’d been than the man he’d become.

But when they came close all that vulnerability fell away, leaving him standing tall and untouchable once more.

“Boss wants to make sure he gets home safe,” Kakucho commented, and he jumped a little having somehow totally forgotten that Kakucho was still walking beside him. 

Inui nodded, his expression giving away nothing of his thoughts, “I’ll take care of him.”

“Kokonoi, take him wherever he wants to go,” Kakucho said, as if Inui hadn’t said anything at all. “I’ll have someone check the bike over and get it back to you.”

Maybe later he’d think that one over, but all he wanted at that moment was just to get out of that building. He needed to think about what to do next and it was hard to think at all with his wrist throbbing and his eyes still swimming with tears.

Koko’s expression had gone pinched and pale, “Yeah, I’ll take care of it.”

The walk to the garage was shorter than the walk up from the street had been. There was an elevator that they must have passed on their way in, but he had no memory of it, that took them down to the parking garage.

Kokonoi’s car was sleek and expensive and had a tiny barely existent backseat that he was going to squeeze himself into so a Inui could sit next to Koko, but Koko’s hand closed over his shoulder, a weird echo of Mikey’s grip and he steered over to the truck instead, pushing a button on the key fob that caused the lid to spring open.

The trunk was filled with first aid supplies, bandages, wraps, kits, braces, one of those machines he’d seen on tv with the paddles. 

“What the fuck, Koko?” Inui asked.

Koko snorted rolling his shoulders as he picked through the supplies and pulled out a pack that broke with a loud crack when he smacked it against the side of the trunk. He gave it a series of rough shakes, working it between his hands before handing the packet to Inui, “We run a couple clinics since we can’t exactly send our guys to hospital. I’m handling the supply runs myself until we get someone new to replace the last guy.”

Koko didn’t explain what happened to the last guy and they didn’t ask.

Inui took the packet and stepped in towards him, “Lemme see?”

There wasn’t much point in hiding it so he offered his aching wrist to Inui who took hold of it, cradling it carefully as he set the pack against the bruises already blooming on the skin. He hissed, squirming, but not not pulling his arm back, “Oh shit, that’s cold.”

Koko laughed and pulled a brace from a tote bag full of them. Inui turned his wrist and the ache turned into white hot agony and it took everything he had not to yank his wrist out of his grip.

“Not broken, just a bad sprain, it’s already swelling,” he murmured, taking the brace Koko offered and wrapping it around his injured wrist only to sigh and hand it back. “Next size up.”

Koko handed him another brace and this one must have fit properly since Inui strapped it into place. He was entirely too busy trying not to scream to ask. “You should still go to the hospital.”

Koko shook his head, “Nah, they’ll ask too many questions. I’ll take you to one of our clinics in the morning. That okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine, thanks, Koko-kun.”

“Don’t fucking thank me, it’s creepy,” Koko muttered, slamming the trunk and gesturing to the car. “Get in, I’ll take you home.”

Inui squeezed into Koko’s practically nonexistent backseat and he eased himself into the passenger seat, careful not to bump his arm on anything. It hurt enough as it was. 

Koko reached over him and popped open the glove compartment. There was a gun inside. He could see the dark metal as Koko pushed aside papers and fished out a small bottle that rattled. He popped it open and shook a couple pills out, closing it up again, tossing the bottle back inside and shutting the compartment, before he held out the pills, “For the swelling.”

He took the offered pills and popped them in his mouth, swallowing them dry. They left a familiar chalky taste in his mouth. He sighed and leaned back into the expensive leather seat.

“Where do you live?” Kokonoi asked, as he started the car which tumbled to life with a thick, smooth purring rumble of sound. 

The thought of going back to his empty, featureless apartment made him feel sick.

“Take me to Chifuru’s pet store.”

“Ain’t that gonna be closed?” Inui asked, leaning in between them, almost certainly not bothering with a seatbelt. “He was at your party, wasn’t he?”

“It’s probably over by now,” he answered, not bothering to tell them that it wasn’t Chifuru he was going to see. He pulled out his phone and typed out a quick text to Kazutora’s number.

Gonna come by. Need to talk.

Barely a minute later his phone buzzed gently in his hand.

Kk

A man of few words, Kazutora.

When Koko pulled up in the front of the shop, Chifuru and Kazutora were both sitting out at the curb with a can of soda sitting on the pavement between them. 

Chifuru waved a hand in the air at them, “Hey Inupi! Koko, long time!”

Kazutora was there with a hand on his arm steadying him as he awkwardly edged his way out of the car, injured arm held against his chest. His wrist was numb and cold from the ice pack.

Inui followed him out of the car, pushing the seat back down, “Sorry it didn’t go well.”

“It’s okay, thanks for helping me get in to see him, both of you.” 

Koko stayed silent, staring pointedly ahead, as Inupi slipped back into the car and pulled the door shut. A moment later the car pulled away from the curb and they were left standing together in the warm summer night.

“Hey, Koko, long time no see. Seems like you’re doing well for yourself,” Chifuru commented, waving cheerfully at the blond. “How many people do you have to kill to afford wheels like that?”

“Fuck you, Chifuru,” Kokonoi replied just as cheerfully, a sneer curling his lips as he turned stiffly towards the door door. “How’d you manage to get the loan for that store with your credit?”

“Enough,” Inui broke in, waving a hand through the air between them before reaching out to grab the door handle. “Takemitchy’s had a hard night. Let’s go, Koko.”

“Sure, whatever," Koko muttered, face obviously flushed even in the shadowed interior of the car.

"Bye-bye," Chifuru called, turning and heading back towards the store as Inui pulled the door shut and the car roared away down the street. "Come on up, I'll put the kettle on."

The little bell rang as they followed Chifuru inside and through to the back where a set of stairs lead to the apartment overhead.

“You saw him then?” Kazutora asked seriously, hand still tight on his arm as they walked together, letting Chifuru take the lead. 

“Yeah, he’s... yeah, I talked to him.”

“That’s great," he saw the white of Kazutora's teeth flash beneath the dim emergency lighting of the darkened shop. "So, what happened? What’s the plan now?”

"I don't know," he answered, shrugging helplessly. He'd think of something, he had to, but right now his head was full of static and the air tasted like failure. 

+++

Upstairs, Kazutora pushed him in the direction of the collection of mismatched chairs and ratty couch they called a living room and disappeared into the kitchen. A minute later Chifuru reappeared with a bashful smile, "He told me to come talk to you because he's no good at the emotional bullshit."

He couldn't help laughing.

"See? I told him he was better at it than he gives himself credit for."

"So, you guys live together here?"

"What'd you think he just hung out here a lot?" Chifuru laughed, flopping down beside him and flinging an arm over the back of the couch behind him. “Man, I always forget you don’t usually know what happens in between jumps. Kazutora moved in with me when he got out.”

“Really? That was nice of you.”

“Not really, I mean... okay, I’m just gonna say it. Kazutora and I are... dating, I guess?" Friends with benefits? I don’t know, we haven’t really put a label on it.” Chifuru's face had turned really red and he rubbed nervously at the back of his head shrugging.

“What? Really?”

“Yeah, I mean... you were kind of my best friend and then you were gone and I... I needed someone to talk to you know? Someone who got it? So, I wrote him a letter. Just.. I don’t know. I don’t know what I was trying to do, just... I wanted to know how he was doing. I didn’t expect him to write me back, but he did. And then eventually I started going there to visit and when he got out he needed a place to stay. And like a job and shit. And then eventually... yeah, yeah, we’re dating or something.”

“Congratulations? He seems nice when he’s not like being all murdery and shit.”

Chifuru laughed, loud and raucous and squeezed him tighter, “That’s what you said when I told younger you about it too.”

“Hey,” Kazutora called from the kitchen where he was shuffling a chipped tea pot and cups onto a tray. “You want something to eat?”

“Not unless you guys want me to throw up on your carpet,” he replied, sighing as he leaned back into the couch, glad for the warmth of Chifuru's arm against his shoulders.

“Yeah... I’d rather you didn’t do that. Went that bad?”

“Pretty much. I mean I thought for sure if I could just shake his hand that’d do it, you know?”

“That was your plan?” Kazutora interrupted, eyebrow raised as he poured the tea. “What the shit kind of plan is that? I mean... I thought you were gonna like talk to him or something. Everyone acts like you guys were really tight.”

Takemitchy glanced at Chifuru who cleared his throat and rubbed at the back of his head, “Look, man, it wasn’t my secret to tell, you know?”

“What secret? What the hell are you guys even talking about, huh?”

“You should just tell him about it. Kazutora’s cool,” Chifuru commented, waving a hand at him. “He’s not gonna freak out or think you’re crazy or nothing.”

“I’m glad you think I’m cool, asshole,” Kazutora grumbled rolling his eyes as he set chipped mugs of tea on the table. "Tell me what?"

"Yeah, all right, you're right I should have... I probably should have just told you when you agreed to help me. I just... just... listen until the end, okay?"

They sat around the tiny living room in their mismatched chairs and he told them everything. Chifuru already knew most of it, but Kazutora just listened in silence as he stumbled his way through those first few trips. Through trying to save Draken and Baji and how every time he thought for sure he’d gotten it right he’d go home and find it was all kinds of wrong.

While he talked Chifuru got up and refilled their mugs, making sure they were always warm and full of steaming tea. The sky outside the windows grew darker and deeper before dawn chased away the shadows and cast pale light across the floors of their apartment. He was yawning as he made his way through the last of it, telling them about Inui, about Koko, and finally about the meeting with Mikey.

“Shit,” Chifuru cursed, running a hand through his hair as he yawned for the third time in minutes.

“Yeah,” he breathed, rubbing a hand over his face. “He’s just... I don’t think he can even imagine a world where things can be different.”

He’d barely finished talking when Kazutora’s hand was thrust into his face. He startled back, “Wha....”

“Shake my hand," Kazutora demanded, his eyes steady and serious and incredibly unnerving. "We agreed to save him together, didn't we? Shake my hand."

It couldn't be that simple, could it?

"Are you serious?" Chifuru asked, his brows knitting together. "Does it even work like that? That only worked with Naoto, right? You said you shook Mikey's hand, right? And nothing happened?"

"Naoto said..." he hesitated, glancing back and forth between them, his stomach already twisting itself up in anxious knots. "He didn't think it worked this time because he didn't have the same resolve or whatever and I think that's what Mikey thought too because he kept saying he didn't have any regrets and maybe it's kind of the same thing. I don't know. I don't know how any of this works."

"Well, I've got plenty of resolve."

“Oh...oh, shit,” Chifuru murmured, hand flying up to cover his mouth, eloquent as always. “You really think that might work?”

“Don’t know. But no one has more regrets than I do,” Kazutora shrugged. “And no one owes Mikey a greater debt than I do. All of this... it started with me, didn't it? Be nice to be able to fix something for once."

"Stupid," Chifuru huffed, getting up and leaning down to knot a hand in the front of Kazutora's sweater and bring him in for a kiss that kind of made Takemitchy embarrassed to be in the same room. Chifuru pulled away after what seemed like an eternity and snagged the teapot as he headed off towards the kitchen. Kazutora just sort of sat there, hand still hovering in the air between them, both of them red-faced and thoroughly embarrassed to be there.

"This is really fucking stupid," Chifuru called back to them. "So it had better work and you better not fuck this up, Takemitchy. I want my boyfriend in one piece and I better still have a shop when this is all said and done."

Kazutora snorted, face still a little red, "Since when am I your boyfriend? What happened to 'labels are for suckers'?"

"Look," Chifuru answered, returning with a steaming refilled pot and plopping it down on the table, "This noble sacrifice shit is hot as hell, alright?"

Kazutora turned back to look at him, his expression suddenly serious once more, hand still outstretched between them, "Whatever it takes. You're gonna save him, got it?"

"Yeah," he echoed, "whatever it takes."

Kazutora’s hand was warm from the mug he’d been holding and rough from a lifetime of hard living.

He looked up and met his steady gaze, “I’ll save him. I promise.”

The familiar feeling of power swept over him, but it was different too. Rougher than the last time.

With Naoto, it had always felt like being sucked beneath the surface of warm water. 

With Kazutora it felt like he was being tossed into a hurricane.

Kazutora’s palm was warm in his and there is an unfamiliar life to his gaze that, for a moment, he didn’t completely understand, and then he felt that familiar tingling sensation. He remembered the last future where Kazutora had looked at him that way, his gaze heavy and serious and so full of the pain of a lifetime of regret. 

Chifuru had died in that future and Kazutora had looked like the grief of mourning him was eating him alive.

He wondered what would have happened if he’d taken his hand then. 

What kind of future would they have had then?

“Please save him,” Kazutora muttered, and he’s not sure who he’s referring to, but he also knows it doesn’t matter. His stomach dipped the same way it had when Naoto had looked at him so long ago and asked him to save his sister.

So he just nodded, resolve heavy in his heart as he reached out and clasped his hand and the world dropped out from beneath him and darkness swallowed him whole.

One moment he was standing in Chifuru and Kazutora's cozy, patchwork living room and the next he was standing in the dark entryway of his parents' apartment, backpack slung over one shoulder, one shoe on and one shoe off. 

The room was lit only by dust-mote late afternoon sun streaming through the cracks in the blinds and his eyes still hadn't adjusted fully yet since he'd just come inside. The place reeked of old cigarette smoke, heavy and cloying. He could see the blue glow of the television in the living room, some game show based on the laughter and jeers of a distant crowd that rumble out into the hall.

”Take, that you?” He recognized the slurred voice instantly though it had been years since he last heard it. He'd made a point of never spending much time there when he'd come back before, staying over with Draken sometimes and Chifuru, but more often just climbing into the house through his bedroom window to sleep and back out again for school. It wasn't like they'd ever really noticed when he was there and they definitely hadn't looked for him when he'd gone.

Still... some things were hard to forget.

This wasn't twelve years ago. 

This was before that, before Hina, before Toman. When he’d still been coming home on the regular. Still leaving to go to school out the front door instead of sneaking in and out through his bedroom window so he wouldn’t have to talk to her.

He couldn't seem to catch his breath.

"Take? Where you going?" she slurred the words so they ran up against each other like cars skidding across ice, loose and clumsy. 

Maybe he should have expected this.

Kazutora knew regret better than any of them and he knew where Kazutora's regrets really started.

In a motorcycle shop with a bad idea and a wrench.

Everything after had just been regret piled on on top of regret and pain on top of pain. All back to that one moment. That one terrible decision.

Of course this was where Kazutora would take him, even if he hadn't meant to.

Saving Mikey would never have been as simple as just talking him into not founding Bonten. 

Saving Mikey was always going to be about saving the people he most wanted to protect.

The people who most wanted to protect him.

“I got school, Ma,” he choked out, dashing a hand against the tears welling up in his eyes. He wiggled his foot into his too small sneaker, turned on his heel and threw himself out the door and into the street beyond.

He remembered bits and pieces of the stories they'd told him. Remembered about the shop, about Mikey, about Mikey’s brother. He remembered all the times he’d talked about that time with Draken and Baji and Chifuru and Mikey and Inupi.

He knew where the shop was, he knew when it had happened, he knew why. 

He could do this.

It was the end of June.

He had a month and a couple weeks? Maybe a little more?

That was plenty of time, wasn't it? He only had to convince them not to break in and steal the bike, right?

But no, that wasn’t right either was it? There was still Izana to consider. Koko. Inui. Hanma. Kiseki. There were so many ways everything could still go wrong even if he managed to stop Baji and Kazutora from going to the shop that night. So many ways to fuck everything up.

Stupid. 

SO stupid.

When had Mikey said it happened? August... the 13th? The 14th? Shit. He couldn't remember. So much had happened.

Even before thinking about anything else he had no idea how the hell he was gonna talk a bunch of strangers into buying what he’s selling, but he had to figure out a way.

He had to.

He knew the way to the shop, or at least he's pretty sure he did since he knew I t was the same place Inui had taken him to when he'd asked him to save Koko. The same place the shop Draken and Inui had their shop.

So he ran. Backpack full of school books bouncing painfully against his back as he dashed down one street and then the next. 

He had no idea what he was gonna do when he got there, but he kept running anyway until he turned a corner and he was there.

The big bay doors were thrown up, revealing a lot of equipment and a couple of bikes and a man, barely more than a boy, with dark hair and a casual easy grace, sprawled out on the ground surrounded by tools and covered in smudges of grease as he tinkered with a familiar-looking motorcycle.

He stumbled to a stop, breathing hard and staring into the shop.

That was him.

He'd seen him on Mikey's tape. 

He'd looked just like that. 

He could save him.

He could save all of them.

Only... was it definitely him? He'd only seen him that one time, in that video Mikey had left, maybe he was wrong. Maybe this was just someone who looked a little like him, maybe...

He'd been standing there staring for too long and the man looked up, waving him over, “Hey kid, you lost?”

"No, I..." He hesitated, biting his bottom lip as he stumbled forward towards the shop. He had to ask. He had to know. "Are... are you Mikey’s brother?”

The man's smile was so bright it was like staring into the sun, “You know Mikey?”

"Yeah," he managed, right before he burst into tears. 

"Oh shit! Hold on, don't cry! Shit, ah, I've got grease all over my freaking hands. Oy! Inupi! Get your butt over here and give me a hand, would ya?"

And somehow seeing Inupi, his scar so much fresher and shinier than he'd ever seen it before, his hair hanging down into his eyes, dressed in a grease-stained t-shirt and holey jeans just made him cry even harder. Behind him Koko, smaller and tidier and somehow even more sour, was sitting on stool staring at him like he'd lost his mind.

Maybe. 

Maybe everything really was gonna be alright.