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Just what the hell is that thing?
There’s… something staring at Kisaki from afar—or is it staring? Because he couldn’t tell what or who it is, not when a shadow perfectly and conveniently obscures its face. Its stature is large, its frame humanoid yet so wrong due to its back curving in a manner defying human anatomy. It’s completely black from head to toe, and if Kisaki’s shitty vision was correct, it’s wearing a gang uniform that belongs to Kasamino, a small gang that Kisaki had planned to absorb into Tenjiku through sheer strength. Except the uniform is in a different color, matching the gang’s leader.
He knows he should run away and submit to his own cowardice—he wouldn’t blame himself this time—but his own feet couldn’t move. He was completely and utterly paralyzed. And as Kisaki stares at the thing in fear, body seemingly frozen and legs immobile, a brief moment passes before it suddenly lunges towards him and harshly grabs him by the arm, leaving him no room to flee.
“Get the fuck away from me! Let me go!” Kisaki’s voice cracks with a blend of frustration and fear, his mind clouded by sheer panic.
The creature doesn’t answer, naturally.
“Stop!”
For the first time in his life, Kisaki is absolutely terrified. He has no clue how to control the situation, has no idea what he was even facing right now—and he needs control. It’s the one thing that makes him able to succeed, to do things right. Without control, he’s pretty much nothing but a weak, pathetic little boy that needs constant protection, and he knows that well.
His thoughts get stopped short once the creature aims a powerful blow at his arm.
CRACK!
A horrid scream of agony coming from nobody but himself, strident and jarring. There’s a sickening crack as bone meets bone, the pain almost making him puke. It sends him stumbling backwards before he collapses to the ground, clutching his arm as he breathes in and out in an attempt to ground himself.
He's never been good with pain, far from it; it’s part of the reason as to why he hates fighting.
“You! You…” the voice awfully sounds like Hanagaki and his nervous nature at first, before the pitch somehow glitches and goes a bit lower, this time sounding a bit more like—like Mikey ? “You completely ruined us. Now we’re gonna make you pay for your sins. Unlike your little friend, I won’t give you mercy by killing you just yet!”
And Hanma—Hanma is dead. Oh God. Kisaki’s glance trails towards his lifeless body slumped on the ground, a pool of blood rapidly spreading underneath him. It takes Kisaki a minute or two to completely regain his senses but, considering how deathly still Hanma remains and the blood—there’s so much blood, blood on the walls, blood on the floor, blood everywhere—he was certain that Hanma is dead.
Hanma is dead.
Hanma is dead. Hanma is dead. Hamma is dead—
Kisaki jolts awake, gray eyes wide as he stares at his ceiling in shock. He slowly puts a hand over his chest, feeling his own heart hammering against his ribcage.
Another nightmare.
Lately, Kisaki has been having lots of them.
At this point, he’s tempted to call them visions, because those horrid, horrid images that his mind would produce seemed to mirror real life, somehow, to a tee.
It doesn’t occur often. Over time, he realized that it happens only when he’d be near danger. At first, he didn’t pay too much attention to them, until he actually went through one of his plans nonetheless and ended up almost dead, mirroring the exact events of his nightmare. That is when he realized it was far from a mere coincidence.
Desperate to use it to his advantage, Kisaki then tried to train himself, but absolutely nothing came from it. He couldn’t choose what to predict and couldn’t choose when he could use it. He wasn’t sure what caused it, either. It was just a big mystery that perplexed him to no end.
In the end, it was just the universe warning him of things that he had no control of. It leaves him completely frustrated because he’s all about control.
And it’s stupid, really, to think that he’s letting himself get concerned about nightmares when he’s seen men die beneath his feet at the mere age of fourteen, seen so many fucked up things no child of his age should’ve—but they seem so real that it throws him off in the worst way possible.
This particular one leaves him shaken to the core. It’s easily the worst one by far, simply because Hanma ended up dead, with his body mangled and bloodied—an image that will surely haunt Kisaki for days to come. There’s nothing more terrifying his brain could make up.
He slowly sits up, his gaze absentmindedly fixed on his turned-off TV, his mind all over the place.
Jesus. He really, really needs to see Hanma right now.
With a sudden burst of determination Kisaki never knew he had in him, he leaps from his bed, slips on his slippers and immediately rushes to his front door, completely disregarding the possibility of waking up his father.
He ends up in the streets of Tokyo in the middle of the night, running as quickly as his shitty slippers allowed him to. His pajamas, which consisted of shorts and an oversized shirt for maximum comfort, were barely enough due to the rough and unforgiving winter cold, but he really couldn’t care less at this point.
Overall, it’s a shitty idea and he knows; at his young age, and, with his awful reputation, he could end up in huge trouble for sure—and yet, for once, Kisaki decided to let his feelings take over him, follow his instincts rather than thinking, desperate to see Hanma.
It was just impulse taking over at this point—his mind was just yelling at him to run, run, run.
And run he does, until he ends up right in front of Hanma’s apartment, with his legs hurting and his breathing ragged.
After struggling to regain his breath, he knocks on the door three times. No response. Then another much harsher knock and finally, the door opens itself to reveal Hanma and his awful posture, standing—no, slouching on the door in boxers, wearing a stained sweater and mismatched socks.
“Tettsun?” Hanma tiredly tilts his head, takes one look at the boy at his door, and then asks, “What’s going on?”
For once, Kisaki doesn’t mind the nickname or makes a comment about it. He only enters the dim apartment without saying anything, politely places his busted slippers at the entrance as Hanma closes the door behind him and only then does he come up with an explanation.
“Change of plans,” Kisaki announces without meeting Hanma’s gaze, with a little more urgency than he would’ve liked showing. “We’re not going to fight Kasamino anymore. Not now, at least.”
Hanma stands still at the door for a moment, before he brings a hand to massage his temple. “Really? Ya know I let you get away with everything but couldn’t you have texted me this instead of wakin' me up at 3 in the morning? Seriously, Tetta?”
“First of all, it’s only 2, and second of all, I needed to see if you weren’t dead,” Kisaki admits, sneering as he finally turns to look at Hanma in the eyes. “That is all.”
“What? The fuck are you talking about?” Hanma raises an eyebrow, giving him a funny look. Kisaki heaves a sigh in response. “I had a dream.”
He hates to say nightmare. It sounds childish and weak and very much vulnerable, things that he didn’t want to be associated with anymore. He buried those words along with his coward past self a long, long time ago.
Hanma blinks. “Again?”
“Yeah, again.” Kisaki replies as he makes his way to the living room, with Hanma closely following him behind.
“…Huh. Let me get this straight, ya needed to see if I was alive.” Hanma reiterates. “So ya decided to like, walk aaall the way from yer house to my place in the middle of the night? When it’s almost freezing outside? Just to see lil’ ol’ me?”
Kisaki doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even bother to correct Hanma, either—he doesn’t need to know that he ran instead of walking, actually.
Instead, Kisaki silently sits on Hanma’s torn and worn-out couch that he definitely needed to get rid of, his body almost jumping out of the couch when Hanma crashes himself on it next to him.
“That’s so cute! Those nightmares got ya actin’ weeeeird.” Hanma wiggles his fingers in the air with a grin as he says that. “Like, real weird.”
“Shut the fuck up. I’m not in the mood for teasing.” Kisaki grumbles, and Hanma laughs, all hyena-like. “I know, I know, my bad. Seriously though, what the hell did you dream about this time?”
There’s a daunting, long silence that follows afterwards as Hanma’s grin slowly falters, and when Kisaki turns his head around in a weak attempt to hide his expression, Hanma knows it’s no joke anymore.
He knows about the nightmares, about how they’re seemingly premonitions or something like that. Part of him had trouble believing it at first, but the way Kisaki had managed to get them out of trouble one time by knowing exactly what would happen next proved that those dreams were something… special, to say the least. He also knows they’re becoming more frequent, but they’ve never left his partner this troubled, at least, as far as he’s aware.
“About Kasamino and their leader… I dreamed that he beat us. Broke my arm and told me he’d make me pay for all we’ve done.”
“Ah, I broke my arm countless of times durin’ fights, and it’s generally not the best experience, yeah,” Hanma comments with a wince, before he goes silent as he waits for another explanation, because, while he’s fully aware that Kisaki doesn’t deal with pain very well, a broken arm shouldn’t have rattled him this much. “And then?”
“And then you died right beside me.” Kisaki’s voice goes calm, before his voice immediately goes back to his usual cold tone. “Which is problematic, of course, since it would eventually fuck up our plan, so there’s that.”
“Ah, so that’s what you were talkin’ about earlier, about me bein’ alive! Pretty sure yer more worried about me than the plan.” Hanma teases, alluding to Kisaki’s earlier comment.
He gets himself ready to hear Kisaki’s various attempts at denying it, but, to his surprise, Hanma’s greeted with silence once more. Kisaki’s gaze is completely vacant, staring at God knows what, and it leaves Hanma tense.
It’s moments like these—these incredibly rare and specific moments where Kisaki allows himself to show vulnerability—where Hanma realizes that no matter how much his boyfriend pretends to be untouchable, no matter how tough he acts or looks, he is still human . They still have an ounce of humanity in their rotten hearts, the both of them, and Kisaki is allowed to be afraid, because in the end, Kisaki Tetta is only human.
“Dude, remember, those nightmares of yours are just visions, ain’t they? In the end, I’m still here.”
Kisaki spares him a quick glance, before his gaze trails towards his own hand, watching his own fingers clutch the air. “I know that, dumbass, I just—you don’t know how real these feel. Dreams shouldn’t feel this lucid. I knew you were alive and yet, I just… kinda needed to see you, I guess.”
Hanma’s eyes seem to light up even in the dim light of the apartment. “Aw , that’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth! And God knows how rare that is! I think the cold got to you and you got sick or something!”
“You’re being annoying;” Kisaki mumbles, but he finally breaks into a smile. Hanma simply shrugs in response, content that he managed to ease Kisaki’s worries. “That’s what I do best, hya-ha~!”
“I don’t think going against Kasamino is going to end well, at least, not now. I let myself slack off for once and I thought simple brawns could do the trick but he’s too strong.” Kisaki continues. “I should’ve thought it wouldn’t be that easy to bring him down. We can’t beat the sod, so we’ll have to go through another plan and I’ll perfectly craft it this time, from start to finish. It’s what I’m good at, after all.”
Hanma’s laughter dies down immediately upon hearing that. He stares down at Kisaki with the most offended expression the latter has ever seen Hanma sport. “Can’t beat the guy ? Yer joking, right? Come on, he just got lucky, that’s all.”
It’s a bit difficult to offend Hanma Shuji of all people—that, Kisaki knows, because no matter how much he pushed him aside by treating him like dirt at first, and that included the many insults during the beginning of their friendship, Hanma still managed to fall in love with him, somehow.
“Kasamino sucks without him, that’s why they’re so small. And he can’t be stronger than Draken, can he? Or Mikey. They’re, like, powerhouses, ya seen what they did to Taiju of all people. Well I fought the both of ’em and while I can’t exactly say that I won…” Hanma continues with a grimace, bitterly remembering how Mikey managed to bring him down with a single kick.
“I still gave them a run for their money. And this umbrella guy can’t be stronger than ’em, can he? I mean, beatin’ me is one thing, but killing me? Be real, that would never happen,” Hanma scowls. “I’m not called the Grim Reaper for nothin’, ya know?”
Kisaki can’t really argue this time, because it’s true. He can’t deny Hanma’s strength, nor his stamina.
Still, he shakes his head, not entirely convinced by Hanma’s argument. “We almost killed Draken of all people. You know how strong that bastard is. You’re not immune, either.”
“But that was because of yer plan! I doubt they have a Kisaki Tetta on their team, do they? I mean, we’d be kinda fucked if they did. That’s the smartest guy in Japan we’re talking about.”
Kisaki rolls his eyes, another smile forming on his face—another victory in Hanma’s eyes. “Very corny.”
“Ya love it. Aaand I have kinetic eyesight that makes me immune to any sneak attack.” Hanma winks at him, but even though the blinds provide some sort of light, his wink is barely visible due to how dark the apartment is—and Kisaki’s shitty eyesight was not helping in the slightest. “So no way this dude can get me, really. Craft yer plan if ya want, but stop worryin’, alright? I’d soo win.”
Kisaki can’t help but snort when he hears that. He wasn’t certain about Hanma’s supposed kinetic eyesight, but one thing he knows for sure is that Hanma is strong. Uncommonly strong, even. Even though, as he said, Hanma is not immune, it’s that raw, terrifying strength that makes Kisaki feel secure whenever Hanma is around, despite how weak he is compared to other delinquents.
In the silence that follows, Kisaki thinks of all the possible scenarios, but in the end, every one of them circles back to the same conclusion: Hanma. If Kasamino’s leader comes after them, he’ll have to rely on Hanma to protect him, no matter how insane the odds, and that’s that.
However, despite his worries getting eased, his mind still wanders to something else, again, because that’s all it does, constantly think.
Hanma puts a reassuring hand on Kisaki’s shoulder and squeezes it to get his attention. “What’s up? I can tell when something works you out. I really appreciate the concern but hey, I’m not dead, aight? I ain’t going anywhere without ya.”
Kisaki shakes his head. “It’s not that—at least not anymore. Just don’t mention that anyways, I’m trying to forget about it.”
“Then what is it?” Hanma asks.
“When the guy spoke in my dream… He sounded like Hanagaki at first, then it switched to Mikey’s voice. It just threw me off the wrong way, I suppose…” Kisaki mumbles that last part.
Hanma gets closer to his face as he squints his eyes, almost as if he was inspecting it. “Threw you off? Is that guilt I see?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It was just weird, don’t make it even weirder. I don’t give a shit about any of them.” Kisaki says as he backs off, but he sounds like he’s trying to convince himself rather than Hanma.
“Yeah, me neither. It was all in good fun.” Hanma pretends to believe him.
It’s awfully difficult to believe that Kisaki would feel guilt for what they’ve done, especially since they had both suffered so much before and swore to never feel guilty about their crimes, but he knows Kisaki had history with Hanagaki that made him prone to go rather easy on the guy.
“What a fucked up definition of fun,” Kisaki comments with a grin, knowing fully well that their definition of ’fun’ is one of the few things they had in common.
“Ya love it, ya clown, yer the one who came up with this stuff! That’s yer role, I’m just yer accomplice!”
“Side-kick is what I would use to describe you,” Kisaki corrects with a small smirk. “but you’re not entirely wrong.”
Because while Kisaki is a man who spouts so many lies that it would put compulsive liars to shame, he couldn’t lie to Hanma of all people and say that he felt genuine guilt by getting his much deserved revenge on his old bullies, at least. It was, as Hanma said, fun .
“Anyways, thanks, I guess.”
It comes off rather dry, because it’s still incredibly difficult for Kisaki to voice his emotions out loud, for a child that spent most of his childhood rotting in loneliness. And, although he feels particularly comfortable around Hanma, Kisaki’s reserved nature often blocked him from completely exposing himself to him.
Hanma knows that Kisaki was being genuine though, judging by the way Kisaki’s small hand rested on Hanma’s thigh. It’s a small and subtle gesture, and it might seem insignificant to anyone else, especially considering that they’ve been dating for a year now, but it says so much .
Pride wells up in Hanma’s chest.
He remembers how difficult it had been for Kisaki to reach this point—how much effort it had taken him to finally feel comfortable near Hanma, especially with something as intimate as physical contact. That was why, back then, Hanma would’ve never thought that Kisaki would’ve been able to joke around him, nor show this much domesticity in private.
Even now, it’s hard to believe that Kisaki was capable of feeling anything as fragile as love, or would even allow himself to get close to anybody due to the walls he always built as a child to protect himself from the pain he had endured since childhood.
Yet, here they were. Right now, Kisaki seems more human to him than anyone else in the world. To think that they started as mere acquaintances and ended up as whatever the hell this is is unimaginable, but either way, Hanma is glad that they managed to go this far.
“I’m glad you’re not dead, and be careful or whatever, you know the deal. I’ll come up with a plan tomorrow. It’ll definitely involve beating the poor sod, don’t worry. Wouldn’t be fun without some bloodshed, right?”
Half-human, Hanma corrects himself with a scoff. Close enough.
“Ya know me too well!”
For the third time that night, silence settles between them again, but this time, it’s comforting more than anything.
When it’s apparent to him that Kisaki has unfortunately gotten lost in his thoughts again—like always, really, it takes him forever to snap out of them—Hanma quickly pokes at his side to draw him back. He simply refuses to let Kisaki get stuck in his thoughts, not when he can help it.
“Hey, s’that my shirt? I was wonderin’ where I put it, you thief.” Hanma points at him with a lopsided grin.
“Maybe if you stopped stripping like a damn whore every time you came to my place, then you’d have more shirts.” Kisaki counters.
“S’not my fault it’s hot as shit at yours!” Hanma childishly argues back.
He realizes that perhaps this is why Kisaki can sleep in a t-shirt, even though it’s freezing cold outside. Ah, the privileges of having a working heater , Hanma thinks to himself with a warm smile, because his radiator unfortunately broke a month ago.
“Anyways, now that it’s over, wanna crash at mine? I’d be kinda worried about leavin’ you in the streets at such an hour. I mean, yer still a kid and all.”
“No I’m not,” Kisaki snaps, lips forming into a small pout. How ironic, but Hanma doesn’t comment on it. “Quit acting like you’re that much older anyways. We’re the same.”
“Still older and bigger and stronger and street smarter and more handsome—” Hanma pretends to count on his fingers.
Kisaki sends him a look before playfully pushing him away to shut him up as Hanma’s laughter booms throughout the apartment. And he swears, he swears that he sees the corner of Kisaki’s mouth slightly twitch upwards. His kinetic eyesight definitely doesn’t lie.
“What are you, twelve? It’s hard to believe you’re older when you act like that. Anyways, fine, I’ll stay over, but you’re sleeping on the couch.”
Hanma decides to ignore the jab, because that’s just classic Tetta and he’s entirely used to it at this point, but still makes an indignant noise at the thought of being kicked out of his own bed. He doesn’t really mind in the end, he’d hand his entire apartment to Kisaki if the latter wanted it, but it’s such a shame that his shitty bed couldn’t fit the both of them.
“Yo, it’s my apartment and I’m sleepin’ on the couch?”
“Got a problem with that?” Kisaki quickly loses his smile and scowls at him. Hanma definitely should’ve cowered at Kisaki’s glare, but he was feeling particularly glad to see his boyfriend thriving again.
“Not at all, s’all yours!” Hanma happily chirps. “Suit yerself, but check if the bed ain’t dirty, I did lots of stuff on it, if ya know what I mean.”
The way Hanma grotesquely winks makes Kisaki’s face contort at the thought of sleeping on the bed.
“Nevermind, I’m sleeping on the couch. You’re disgusting, I swear.” Kisaki gags before he abruptly stands up and makes his way to the kitchen, leaving Hanma behind.
“I was only jokin’, promise! Tetta, come back! I swear it’s squeaky clean! I only ate on it! I was talkin’ about the crumbs! The crumbs, Tetta!” Hanma wails, then snickers behind his hand when he hears Kisaki from the kitchen barking at him to keep quiet.
“Shut the fuck up! And why the hell is it so cold in here? I’m buying you a radiator tomorrow… and groceries.”
Fuck yes! The privileges of having a rich boyfriend! Hanma happily thinks to himself before following Kisaki into the kitchen like a lost puppy, a wide grin displayed on his face.
“Yer the best, Tetta!”
“...Don’t mention it.”