Takemichi's days had started to fall into a quiet sort of rhythm. He wasn't sure when it started—maybe after the hospital. Maybe after the t
Takemichi's days had started to fall into a quiet sort of rhythm. He wasn't sure when it started—maybe after the hospital. Maybe after the taiyaki morning or the curry night. Maybe after Mikey decided his apartment was also his apartment. Anyway, it was becoming a routine. And for the first time in a while… he didn't mind that.
The start of the new week came with the same ritual it had for the past few days.
Takemichi's phone buzzed at exactly 5:37 a.m.
The great Mikey - WAKE UP TAKEMITCHY. THE SUN IS YELLING.
The Great Mikey - also i dreamt u were a cat. weird.
He groaned into his pillow, thumb mashing the reply button without even opening his eyes.
Takemichi - Sleep. Is. A. Human. Right.
He dragged himself out of bed a few minutes later, anyway. The apartment was still too big, still too quiet, but somehow it felt a little less lonely now. He made breakfast—rice, egg, and some grilled salmon he'd thawed the night before—and packed up some extra taiyaki for later. Mikey would probably try to steal it.
School was school. But now, it didn't feel quite so dull. The Mizo Mid boys had officially adopted him into their pack. Takuya still shared his melon bread, Makoto tried to cheat off his math homework (unsuccessfully), and Yamagishi had taken it upon himself to explain the local urban legends in excruciating detail.
But the newest change came in the form of someone unexpected.
Her name was Hinata Tachibana.
They met when he spotted her struggling with a stack of storage boxes near the stairwell, halfway to dropping them all down a flight of steps.
"Need help?" he asked before he could overthink it.
She blinked at him, surprised—but not startled. "Yes, please."
He took the top half of the stack and followed her to the teacher's lounge. It wasn't a long walk, but it was enough to exchange names and find a surprising rhythm to their conversation.
Hinata was short, but not small—there was a kind of boldness to her, like she had steel woven into her spine. She spoke clearly, with a kind of honest conviction that made you pay attention. Her short hair swayed with every determined step, and her uniform looked a little more worn than most, but clean and neat, like she took pride in things people usually missed.
After that, she started greeting him in the mornings. Asking about homework. Offering gum. The kind of slow, steady friendliness that Takemichi didn't know he'd needed.
And now… she was part of his day, too.
Some afternoons, especially Fridays, he went with the Mizo Mid boys to the arcade two train stops away. Takuya was surprisingly good at rhythm games. Yamagishi was banned from using the crane machines after he climbed one, trying to retrieve a plushie that was "definitely winnable." Makoto flirted with every girl who passed by. Akkun lost every racing game to Takemichi, who had spent most of his early years with access to cutting-edge simulation tech. He never told him that, of course. It was more fun to play dumb.
Other days, it was quieter. A couple times a week, Hinata asked if he wanted to stop by a small cafe near the station. It had frosted windows and mismatched chairs, and the milk tea was sweet and cheap. They'd sit in the corner booth and talk about class, about teachers, about which of their classmates were definitely dating and pretending they weren't.
Hinata liked to people-watch. She was good at it, too. Takemichi liked to listen.
And then there were the days—most of them, honestly—when he came home only to find Mikey already waiting outside his building, texting him in all caps about being cold and starving.
Draken usually showed up five minutes later with the same tired look on his face, like he knew this was going to be a thing now and had already accepted it. He always helped carry groceries or set the table while Mikey lay dramatically across Takemichi's couch like a prince recovering from war.
They ate dinner together more often than not. It became normal.
But every Monday was a little different.
Every Monday, like today, Kusakabe met him just outside the school gates. Always precisely on time. Always holding a clipboard and a canvas bag, like grocery shopping was a mission and not a weekly chore.
Takemichi didn't mind.
Kusakabe was quiet company, the kind of calm presence that didn't demand anything from him. They moved through the grocery aisles in sync now—Takemichi picking out ingredients, Kusakabe checking expiration dates like a hawk.
He never commented on the taiyaki flour, but he always gave a look when Takemichi tried to buy too many convenience meals.
"Reborn would have words," he'd say, which was enough to make Takemichi put the yakisoba bread back.
By now, the cashiers at the supermarket knew them by name.
The grocery bags rustled faintly as they walked side by side, the evening light soft and golden behind them. The smell of fresh bread and dried seaweed clung faintly to the air between them.
Kusakabe glanced at him from the corner of his eye. "You look happier."
Takemichi blinked, startled, then laughed a little, pink blooming at the tips of his ears. "Really?"
Kusakabe nodded, expression calm and matter-of-fact. "Mm. Less weight around the eyes. You're not slouching as much, either."
Takemichi smiled, soft and fond. "Yeah. I guess… I've been spending more time with friends. Good people. Really good."
Kusakabe didn't interrupt, just let him speak.
"There's this group from school—Takuya, Akkun, Makoto, Yamagishi… and Hinata. We hang out sometimes. And then Mikey and Draken keep crashing my apartment." He laughed again, more to himself. "They show up uninvited, eat my food, raid my fridge, and demand dessert. And I still love them all."
Kusakabe's lips twitched faintly. "Sounds like a very polite form of home invasion."
"Basically," Takemichi said with a grin.
Then Kusakabe tilted his head slightly, his tone casual—but just a little too careful. "None of them are part of… our world, are they? Are you planning on inviting them in?"
Takemichi opened his mouth to reply—instinctively, reflexively, ready to say no. But his phone buzzed in his pocket. A soft, almost apologetic vibration.
He blinked, pausing mid-step to tug it out and check the screen.
Izana - I tried that thing you mentioned, but couldn't do it.
Takemichi stared at it, surprised.
Izana didn't text often. Their last meeting had ended in quiet awkwardness, and he hadn't expected to hear from him so soon. There was something cautious in the phrasing, too. Like he was asking more than just about flames.
Kusakabe noticed the shift in his expression and stopped walking. "Everything alright?"
Takemichi hesitated. Then tucked his phone away and cleared his throat, scratching his cheek. "Actually… There's one already in."
Kusakabe arched an eyebrow.
"He's not Mafia," Takemichi said quickly. "Not formally. And not Flame-trained. But… he has them. Mist and Cloud. I met him outside Shinichiro-san's shop. We didn't talk about anything serious at first, just bikes. But when he showed me his flames, I told him I'd help."
Kusakabe's gaze sharpened just a little. "Do you know his name?"
Takemichi nodded. "Izana. Kurokawa Izana."
That earned a pause. "I'll… look into him."
Takemichi didn't argue. Of course, Kusakabe would want to be sure. It wasn't just about trust—it was about safety.
But still, he looked down, voice quieter. "He seemed lonely."
Kusakabe was silent for a moment. Then, softly: "Just make sure you aren't the only one offering a hand."
Takemichi blinked at him.
Kusakabe continued, calm as ever. "People who are drowning will pull others under if they don't know how to reach for help properly. Teach him—but don't lose your footing."
Takemichi smiled faintly, a little solemn now. "I'll be careful."
Kusakabe gave a small nod, then gestured toward the path ahead. "Let's get those vegetables home before Mikey starts climbing your balcony again."
Takemichi groaned. "He's actually threatened that."
Kusakabe chuckled softly and together, they kept walking—two shadows growing longer in the fading light, the weight of groceries balanced between them and the quiet knowledge of the world they both walked in.
And when they parted ways in front of Kusakabe's car as he headed toward the safe house apartment he checked into once a week, and Takemichi toward his own home—there was always a parting reminder: "Eat more vegetables."
Takemichi rolled his eyes with a grin. "Yes, Mom."
It was a joke.
But it also wasn't.
Because somehow, over the last few weeks, this strange patchwork of habits and people had started to feel like something real.
A little messy. A little loud.
But real.
And for the first time since coming to Japan—He didn't feel quite so alone.
Of course, that had to be the time when he received a call from Izana. Apparently already feeling impatient because he hadn't answered back his text.
The grocery bags dug into Takemichi's fingers as he juggled his flip phone between his shoulder and cheek, trying not to drop anything as he stepped into his building.
"I just need to drop this off at home," he said, shifting the bag with the eggs to keep it from tilting. "Then I'm free."
The voice on the other end was low, even. "Good. Meet me at the park near Higashi Station. We'll wait near the benches by the trees."
Takemichi blinked. "The more secluded side?"
"Still public," Izana said calmly, almost pointedly. "But quiet enough to talk."
Takemichi recognized it for what it was—a deliberate choice. Not hostile, but cautious. Trust earned, not given. He could work with that.
"I'll be there in twenty minutes."
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