Options, Pt.3

Options, Pt.3

Arajin/f!Reader/Marito

Summary: Arajin and Marito grow closer to you over time and start becoming more open about their intentions, but a wrench is thrown into the works when you receive a confession on Valentine's day. wc: 3.7k A/N: warnings for violence, possessive behavior, general toxic behavior, jealousy, crying, angst, Marito being a borderline yandere (honestly it's not hard to see canon him as a potential one). Also the OC is meant to be a reference to Harima Kenji from School Rumble (another lovable delinquent character lol) Enjoy!

As time went on, you, Arajin, and Marito began a comfortable routine; at first you would typically spend time with Arajin, whether at the Chu Chu restaurant, milling around the local shopping center, or studying at the library. Sometimes Marito would show up, usually unannounced, or Arajin would suggest oh so casually if you wouldn’t mind his boyfriend joining the two of you. You couldn’t say the exact time where Marito’s presence was a given; it got to the point where you were so used to him being around, it was more strange for him to not show up. Marito would surprise you sometimes, creeping up on you, saying “boo” or growling under his breath; it escalated to finding yourself regularly trapped in a loose embrace, an arm over your shoulders caging you to his side, or just a hand ruffling your hair just a little too roughly. He was as clingy with you as he was with Arajin now and to his delight, you never shrunk away or gave him any indication you weren’t just as pleased to be in his company as Arajin’s (unless Mahoro was present and glaring daggers; you didn’t want to rattle the tiger’s cage).

Arajin, of course, was becoming bolder and bolder, albeit in his own way. He would hover and fuss whenever he wasn’t latched to Marito; he’d shower you in compliments for the most (at least in your opinion) insignificant things and basically insisted on being at your disposal for any and every inconvenience. Arajin refused to let you carry anything but your own purse, if that, would strip off his top layer the moment you shivered at a slight chill, even offering to blow on your drink if it was too hot to taste without burning the tip of your tongue. At one point while the two of you were walking around, there was a sudden and heavy downpour; Marito and you were fine waiting it out, but Arajin insisted on running over to the nearest convenience store to buy an extra large umbrella for the three of you to walk under, along with a pack of tissues and a hot tea in case you somehow caught cold from being a touch damp. 

Marito never showed any sign of jealousy or irritation at his boyfriend’s doting on you; you weren’t sure what to make of it. From what you heard, Marito, to put it lightly, was not a particularly giving or forgiving person. Yet, he seemed not only apathetic to Arajin’s behavior but amused. 

No, more than that. There was a pattern that you couldn’t unsee when you finally got around to noticing how Marito would behave every time Arajin took more liberties with his indulgence of you: ruffling his hair, whispering things into his ear until he turned into a blushing mess, pulling him in close to blow raspberries on his cheeks, trapping him in bone crushing bear hugs, laughing and smirking all the while. It was as if Marito was praising Arajin, granted usually in a sort of teasing, roughhousing sort of way, for becoming more confident in expressing himself around you.

What’s more, when Marito did this, he would stare at you. Sometimes a brief glance and a wink; other times he would make direct eye contact and not break it until Arajin said something to regain his full attention. Those looks, deliberate and intense, left you with a dry mouth and a rapidly beating heart, not because you were intimidated and you didn’t believe it was Marito’s intention to do so in the first place. You swear, those fervent, almost hypnotizing looks were calling for you to…do something. That’s where you were officially stumped. 

At least, until today. 

“This is for you.”

You take the letter, a little dumbstruck; it was a plain white envelope, sealed with a red, heart shaped sticker. 

“Read it first before you give me your answer. I’ll be at the clubhouse after school, near the spot where that old pond froze over. Will you come?”

You’re gripping the letter lightly in your hands; you’ve only spoken to Harima Kenji a handful of times. He’s one of many Siguma recruits you’ve made small talk with in times you dropped by to visit Marito and Arajin or met them on the way to go somewhere else. Harima is a newbie and you were shocked to learn he was a second year student. With his large build, goatee, and severe looks, you had honestly assumed he had been held back a year or two. The impression you got from the brief interactions you’ve had is that Harima was a lot more sincere and earnest than his rough way of speaking and near constant scowl implied. To think, he would do something so…romantic and on Valentine’s day no less. Had he been waiting to give this letter to you for the occasion? Just the thought made your heart swell a bit, touched at the sentiment. 

“I know this is sudden, but I can’t stop thinking about you. I want you to be my Valentine and...be mine. Even if you can’t accept my feelings, I hope you’ll take some time to consider me.”

“...okay.” You smile shyly. “I’ll come with my answer after school.”

“Thank you!” Harima clenched his fists at his side and bowed his head slightly; he hasn’t smiled once this whole encounter, but his eyes practically shine when you smile and his cheeks flush so bright you can see it under his whiskers. “I’ll be waiting.”

You’re left alone, standing at your shoe cubby, still feeling a bit shocked; perhaps that was why you didn’t notice Arajin. He had dived right back around the corner, sweaty palms clutching a small box of chocolates and a bushel of daisies, as he unwittingly eavesdropped on the exchange.  

“Who confesses with letters these days?”

Marito cocked his head to the side slightly, examining the way Harima struggled to get up; his uniform was half soaked by slush and mud. Arajin was off to the side near the edge of the pond, eyes rimmed red and looking conflicted; he didn’t think Marito would go this far. When he ran off to tell Marito what he had seen, panicked and heart heavy, he thought he would just scare the rookie a bit, get him to back off. Everyone within Siguma was aware who you were and that you were off limits. Besides, Arajin was almost positive you were going to reject Harima anyway; it wouldn’t hurt for Marito to lay down the law and nip the problem in the bud, right?

“Aren’t you just an old-fashioned romantic? A confession by hand written letter, asking her to meet you after school.” Marito waited until he was half standing to send another swift kick to Harima’s wobbling legs. “Kenji-kun, I knew you were kinda stupid, but not this stupid. And as if your blatant disrespect wasn't bad enough, you upset my Ara-teen; another strike against ya.”

“Sh-she accepted my letter.” Harima grunts, doubled over, but face raised to glower up at Marito through swollen eyes. “She coulda thrown it out…turned me down right then if she really wanted to, crazy bastard. You have no right-!”

“Now how are you still able to talk?”

Another kick, this time to the ribs; Harima heaves, spitting up what Marito assumes is whatever he had for lunch earlier. The ground is cold and wet from the half melted snow; it’s slippery and Harima can’t seem to get his footing; frankly, he’s strong, but far outclassed and up against one very pissed off juvenile delinquent. Marito allows some space, watching unimpressed as Harima tries to stand; he had put up a decent enough fight initially, but he’s all power and no stamina from what Marito can see. Finally, Harima collapses on his hands and knees with a curse.

“Eat shit.”

“Hm? Did you say something?” Marito leans down slightly, hand cupped around his ear. “Gotta speak up.”

“Dammit, I give, you crazy fuck.” Harima manages to growl. “She’s coming to see me either way.”

Marito clicks his tongue, shaking his head in faux disapproval. “I guess you weren’t as serious about her as you claimed to be. All it took was a little roughing up and a couple shattered ribs. Where’s the passion?”

Arajin steps forward, eyes wide and unable to keep the tremor from his voice. “Marito, maybe that’s enough? You didn’t need to-”

“Arajin, if you can’t stomach it, you can wait for me inside.” Marito smiles blithely over his shoulder. “Aw, don’t worry, I ain’t going to kill him. I won’t even kick him out of Siguma, not yet anyway. I still have a use for him.”

“But, he's hurt really bad. This is way too much.”

“Isn't this what you wanted?”

“I never told you to beat anyone up!” 

“C'mon, you had to know what would happen once you blew the whistle.” Marito grins without a trace of mirth. “Just a while ago you were bawlin’ your eyes out to me about losing your chance with her, after all these years, after finally getting some nerve to start making moves. Ara-teen, we're so close to making her ours. We need to put this loser in his place and make an example of him.”

Harima groans; he’s trying to get up. Marito’s smile falls; he moves forward to grab Harima by the hair and slams his face straight down into the cold mud. Arajin’s stomach churns at an audible, sickening crunch and Harima’s sharp scream of pain.

“Whoops, looks like you broke your nose.” Marito’s nails dig into Harima’s scalp, holding him down, easily ignoring the hands grabbing and scratching at his wrist. “Go on lover boy, make your confession! Fuck, you're pathetic.” 

Marito yanks Harima’s head up so the other boy can get one desperate gulp of air, before grabbing his face with both his hands. Blood gushes from Harima’s nostrils to mix with the mud and snot as his face makes contact with Marito’s knee. As he recoils, Harima’s mouth opens and Marito cackles, seeing a gap in his teeth; it’s probably buried in the mud now.

“Marito!” Arajin rushes over, finally gaining feeling in his stiff legs; he kneels down and tries to pull back Marito’s arm, but he hardly budges. He’s honestly terrified of Marito right now, but he feels more guilty.

Marito was right; Arajin knew that something like this at the very least could happen. He hoped. He wanted Marito to throw his weight around and put a stop to Harima’s pursuit of you because in his heart, Arajin didn’t know if you would accept his feelings. Arajin didn’t know for sure and he wasn’t willing to cross that line but he didn’t want you to leave him behind either, be with someone else. 

You looked so flattered, glowing from Harima’s request. It scared him. It made him want to throw up and so he ran away, candy and crushed flowers in hand, because Arajin couldn’t bring himself to approach you the same way. He was more willing to let someone get the shit kicked out of them to have a better shot at you. Arajin has never felt more sick with himself. 

“Dammit you have to stop!” Arajin pleads, grabbing at Marito, using what strength he had to try and pry him away. “Enough is enough!”

“This isn’t close to enough. I can’t believe you thought…what did you think? I’d just hand her over? To you?” Marito stares at his subordinate's bloodied and bruised face with utter disgust. “It’s an insult is what it is: this weak bitch…fuck, you really thought you would get away with it, didn’t ya? That you could make a move on our girl?!”

Arajin is shoved away unceremoniously, sent back skidding in the snow; Marito isn’t smiling anymore. His breathing is as labored as Harima’s as he begins stomping anywhere he can reach. Harima is all but unconscious as his body is kicked over and over, in quick, brutal succession. 

Marito scraps the sole of his boot against Harima’s face like he’s trying to get the mud off and it earns him a pained moan and now there’s blood mixed with the mud. Marito can hardly stand to look down on him: Harima is nobody, an NPC, a nameless red shirt. He couldn't take a few well placed punches at half of Marito’s strength. The very suggestion that you had accepted Harima’s corny bullshit love letter with a smile almost made Marito angry with you. How could you even entertain it? Why should anyone else even matter to you, let alone someone so beneath him?

“Get up." Marito demands, digging his heel into Harima’s neck. “You limp dicked, shit-for-brains loser, get the fuck up! If you even think about looking at her again, and I’ll-”

“Marito!”

Marito turns to send a nasty glare Arajin’s way, but it’s not him who’s running at breakneck speed to Harima’s side. You slip in the mud a little short of where Harima’s head is resting on the cold ground, but you crawl the rest of the way. A look of abject horror changes your features in a way Marito has never seen.

“Harima? Harima, are you okay?” You frantically try to push away Marito’s leg. “Stop it, what are you doing to him?!”

“You need it spelled out?” Marito taps Harima’s temple with the tip of his boot before moving back a step; he’s smiling now, grinning down at you, blood and mud splattered over his clothes. “Don’t worry, kitten. He won’t ever bother you again. No need to give him an ‘answer’; I made sure Kenji-kun got the message loud and clear.”

You silently reach into your skirt pocket and take out a handkerchief.

"Gross." Marito makes a gagging noise as you begin gently wiping Harima’s swollen face. He’s able to open one eye, watching as you clean off as much as you can with the scrap of cloth.

“Harima? Don’t fall asleep; do you think you have a concussion?” 

“You came.” Harima turns his head slightly as a tear runs down his cheek; he can barely speak with his split, swollen lip. “I’m sorry. Just go: I don’t want you to see me this way.”

“Harima,”

“Ugh, knock it off, crybaby; I barely hit you.” Marito rolls his eyes in disdain as you help Harima rise to a sitting position. “Really milking it for those sympathy points, huh?”

Harima rests his head on your shoulder, breaths shallow but steady. You won’t even look at Marito.

“Is this the “Siguma pride’ you told me about? Threatening your members? And for what?” You ask quietly. “I’m not a prize to be won.”

“He’s a loser.”

“This isn’t a game.” You snap, your cold stare wilting when Arajin catches your eyes. “Is this what you do now? You don’t fight anymore, but you’re okay letting someone else do it for you. You can’t work up the nerve to be honest with me about your feelings but I guess you can stomach this just fine?”

“No.” Arajin denies; his guts feel like they’re being twisted. “I didn’t want this.”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses. I can’t even look at you right now.” You tell him. “I can’t believe-I thought we were friends, I thought-”

“You belong to us.” Marito states calmly. “Everyone else knows but this idiot, apparently.”

“I’m not a thing you can put a claim on!”

“I did,” Marito replies. “And I am. I won’t let anyone else have you.”

You shake your head, as if in disbelief; Marito bends down, reaching for your arm to haul you up. Before Marito can lay a finger on you, Harima slaps his hand away. 

“Leave her alone.” Harima wheezes; he’s rolled over slightly in front of you, as if to shield you from the offending touch. “I’m sorry. This happened because I wasn’t strong enough.”

“Nah it's ‘cause you’re a fuckin’ loser.” Marito jeers, sticking his tongue out at Harima’s scowl. “Now, kitten, don’t make me be rough with you; Ara-teen and I just wanna have a chat to clear up things.”

“We do, really.” Arajin puts a hand over Marito’s. “Please, we’re sorry.”

“Huh? I ain’t fucking sorry.”

“Seriously?!” Arajin looks at him, silently begging Marito to stop being combative; he looks at you so guiltily, so regretfully, you almost feel swayed by his words. “We are your friends. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way, but it's the truth.” he professes. "We like you."

“So, what do you say, kitten?” Marito adds with an uncontrollable grin.  “You’re gonna be ours, right?”

“Don’t speak to her that way, scum!” Harima sits up, puts a hand on your shoulder, trying to stand up once more. “She doesn’t want to go anywhere with you and your toadie boyfriend.”

Any trace of humor disappears from Marito’s smile. “You just don’t know when to shut up; all this for a stupid shitty letter-”

“You’re wrong.” You put a hand comfortingly on Harima’s shoulder, ushering him to calm down. “That letter was so sweet and thoughtful. I think it takes a lot of courage to be so honest about how you feel.” 

“Okay, enough is enough.” Marito sighs heavily and moves to reach for you again. “Come on, get up. We should be discussing this privately-”

This time it’s not Harima’s large hand that smacks Marito’s away; you’re finally looking at him. Tears well up in your eyes. Marito recoils as if your slap hurt; he’s looking at you, almost dumbstruck. He’s never seen you so much as raise your hand to swat a bug.

“No.” You can’t stop the tears from coming; your hand is still raised, poised as if to slap Marito again should he try to come near you. “I don’t want to go anywhere with you.”

Arajin tries to go to you, but stops short; he stands, helpless, as you cry into your hands. You’re crying and it’s partially his fault, yet Arajin can’t even bring himself to go to you. 

“Hey.” Marito’s hand drops to his side; his crooked smile wanes, gaze searching your face, as if he can’t process what he's seeing. “Hey, why are you looking at me like that? I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Arajin doesn’t know when you stopped crying; an hour later he’s with Marito back at the Siguma clubhouse. You left, half supporting Harima, as he limped towards the nurses office, insisting he could patch himself up and a hospital wasn’t necessary. 

Marito hasn’t spoken a word; when you all but ran off, he trudged the opposite direction, looking forward, motions stiff, almost robotic. When they returned to the clubhouse, the building feeling strangely empty and cold despite having a heating system running, Marito pulled Arajin to the hammock. Arajin didn’t argue or make any smart remarks; he let himself be tugged along. Currently he’s slotted between Marito’s legs, half lying on his chest. Marito is staring up at the ceiling, barely blinking; he looks half asleep, half awake. Arajin can’t tell if he’s angry or not but he doesn’t feel like asking. He feels like shit. 

“I screwed it all up, huh?”

Marito has one arm underneath his shoulders; his fingers clutch onto Arajin’s arm. After a beat of silence, Marito has him locked into a tight embrace; Arajin’s face is tucked away into the crook of his neck. From this position, he can’t see what kind of expression Marito is making.

“It was going so well, but then that asshole came outta nowhere, I thought we were gonna lose her, it felt like we were suddenly running out of time. I didn’t even think she’d actually say yes to him. Shit, I don’t know, I freaked, I was-”

Arajin doesn’t need Marito to finish; he knows exactly what he wants to say because it’s the same reason he himself had run away. Again. 

“It’s not your fault.”

“Don’t bullshit me.”

“I mean, it’s my fault too.” Arajin closes his eyes tight. “I should have told her a long time ago.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Do you have to ask? I’m a selfish coward.”

“Yeah, but I kinda like that about you.” Marito lets out a half chuckle. “Did you think you were too weak for her?”

“Sort of. Can we not get into that now?” 

“When then?”

“When?”

“We’re going to get her back, aren’t we?” Marito sounds annoyed. “We give her a little time to calm down and try to talk to her.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“You’re gonna have to see her again; she works for your mom.”

“I guess she’ll be avoiding me from now on.”

“What about me?” 

“What do you mean?”

“It’ll be easier to avoid me. Ya know, she’s probably with him now. If I go after him, she’s just gonna hate me more, but-I’ve never felt this before.”

“Pissed?”

“I want her here and she’s not.” Marito swallows hard; there’s no levity in his tone. “She didn’t even ask if I was okay.”

“Are you okay?” 

Arajin realizes this might have been the first time he’s asked Marito that question; not to mention, this might actually be the first time Marito hasn’t gotten something he wanted, something he couldn’t get with threats and intimidation.

“I got hurt too, you saw. He got me on the face even.” 

Arajin doesn’t point out to Marito that the injury he’s referring to is the most minor of bruises on his jaw.

“She didn’t even care. She didn’t even notice.” 

“I could…” Arajin sighs. “Kiss it better.”

Marito moves so he can stare him down with the most lost puppy dog eyes Arajin has ever seen on maybe the most terrifying person he’s ever met. Arajin leans over, pressing a soft, but lingering kiss to the small welt. Marito whines, arms wrapping around him tighter.

“Ara-teen, you gotta talk to her. Tell her I didn’t mean any of it, I just got carried away.”

“Weren’t you the one telling me to be more forward?” A slight smile comes to Arajin’s face for the first time in hours. “Tell her yourself.”

“She’s just gonna run away.” Marito slumps with a pout. “Tell her I’m…”

“Sorry?”

“Yeah, that.”

“Okay, that’s really something you’re going to have to tell her yourself, even I know that.”

“But she won’t talk to me! You saw how she looked at me…” Marito bites his wobbling lower lip, teeth almost scraping against his snake bite spikes. “I scared our kitten away. I messed everything up.”

“We both messed up.” Arajin lets Marito bury his face into his shoulder. “I guess we deserve each other…”

HII just wanted to say that your uramichi hcs r so cute!! It's been such a big comfort for me to reread these past few days and u write him really well :]

Thank you so much for saying that! This series is a comfort show/manga for me, I really wanted to add more content for fellow fans lol.

It's Better Than Regretting

Kikaku Hanbee/f!Reader, post break up, mentions of sex and some light dirty talk (once again, minors dni) probably a little OOC but I tried. This fandom needs more content and this crazed witch like man has a place in my heart. The title is lyrics from "Crashed the Wedding" by Busted which was what inspired me to write this. Summary: Post breakup, Kikaku finds out you've agreed to a marriage of convenience. word count: 4.1k

Kikaku feels the wedding invite burning a hole in his pocket; he takes a long drink of beer, wondering for the tenth time if this is a mistake. The two of you broke up; he and you wanted different things out of life. So what if his parents were friendly with your old man? No one expected the two of you to end up together. In fact, Kikaku had been made all too aware of your father’s disapproval of him. When you got your first piercing, when you got drunk for the first time and missed an exam, when you started staying out all hours of the night frequenting different music venues, the blame was placed squarely on Kikaku’s shoulders for being a bad influence on his perfect princess.

It was always like that; your father would say he was only looking out for you, but Kikaku called it how it actually was; all he was doing was forcing his own expectations onto his only daughter. You had come to him many times, complaining about the feeling of suffocation, wondering how you were supposed to call the man “family” when you couldn’t even talk to him half the time without walking on eggshells. Kikaku didn’t have any answers, aside from telling you “Fuck that shit” and take you out for a good time. 

Eventually, inevitably, the two of you transitioned from friends to friends with benefits; sitting and nursing his beer, Kikaku tries to shove the memory out of his head to no avail. How could he forget? His band had played one of their first shows and barely anyone had showed up, and the people that did hated them. 

You had been the only friendly face at the bar, toasting to him at the end of their set with a sympathetic smile. None of his other girls were answering his texts; you were there and the two of you had a little too much to drink at his place. When the other members left and it was just you and him, Kikaku let you hug him; according to you, he looked like he really needed one, but that wasn’t all he needed. Your body was soft and your breath smelled sweet and sharp from the plum wine. Before Kikaku could communicate to his brain that his dick was acting up around you and it would be a bad idea to act out on this sudden urge, you had kissed the top of his head and squeezed him to your chest. Kikaku can’t remember too much of what happened afterward, only flashes and sensations and waking up in the morning with a raging migraine and you laying nude on the futon next to him. 

It was a good thing the two of you had for a long time until the day you had come back to his apartment and refused a make out session with a serious expression. Kikaku could have guessed the problem; it was always the problem with his main girls. They got too close, too attached, even though Kikaku really didn’t make much of a secret that he wasn’t into the whole exclusive thing. Frankly, he didn’t think what the two of you had was special. You just had the benefit of knowing him the longest and being his friend first. 

That being said, you never showed signs of jealousy or feeling hurt by Kikaku’s other lovers, so he really hadn’t expected that to be the reason you decided to end things officially and not just the sex, but everything. No more shows or take out or movie nights. No more being friends; you called it being amiable. When you crossed paths, you would say hello and engage in a little small talk. Nothing more, nothing less. Kikaku accepted without making a fuss; he was in a shitty mood for a while but hey, getting dumped is never fun.

“Is that why you ended things?” Kikaku cut right to the chase as soon as you took the stool next to him; he slid the card over to your coaster, like it was some distasteful object. “You wanted to make things serious with this guy?”

“Hello to you too. How did you get this? Oh no, just water please.” You told the bartender, who had just come over to take your order. “Kikaku, my father sent this to your parents; how did you get it?”

“Wow, you weren’t even planning to invite an old friend to such a grand occasion?” Kikaku grumbles. “Cold. I thought you said no hard feelings.”

“I heard you were busy with work; besides, since when do you enjoy going to formal parties?” You give him a wry half smile. “Unless there’s an open bar.”

“Is there?”

“Yes. Father spared no expense.” You hold your glass of water but don’t take a drink. “He set up the whole thing. I didn’t even have to worry about picking out a dress. It’s all been decided.”

“What, did he pick out the groom too?”

Kikaku snorts but your smile is nowhere to be seen; you take the invitation and push it over to him. 

“I know it’s short notice, but I’d like your parents to come if they can. They’ve always been good to me; they’ve treated me more like a daughter than he ever did.” You tell him softly. “I must look pretty lame to you, huh? Letting my father marry me off and domesticate me. Is that why you called? Did you want a good laugh?”

“What the hell are you talking about?!” Kikaku turns so quickly in his seat, he nearly knocks over his now empty glass. “I was joking: did your old man really pick the guy out? What, did he send out a resume or something?”

“He works at the same company; we’ve met a few times. His name’s Kenji Hazawa. He needs a wife and my father needs me to settle down. A match made in heaven.”

“So? What is wrong with you?” Kikaku’s eyes scan your face, hardly believing the words coming out of your mouth so casually. “You’re gonna let your dad marry you off to some asshole you don’t even like?”

“Stop. I do not need you, of all the people in the fucking world judging my decisions.” You fix him with a cold stare. “I gave it to you for free. You know what I get with Kenji? A comfortable life and my father finally off my back. I get freedom.”

“How?! How the hell is selling yourself to the highest bidder-?”

“I knew you wouldn’t understand. It’s why I never told you. That's why I stopped talking to you.” You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. “You just don’t get it, Kikaku. I’m a single woman nearly past her expiration date, father’s words not mine, and no one is letting me hear the end of it. I’m done fighting against it all by myself.”

“You don’t have to do this. He can’t force you.”

“It’s already decided. I just have to walk down the aisle and say ‘I do’ and I never have to worry about money or being looked down on again. Sweet deal, isn’t it? Sorry. I guess I’m not the cool badass bitch I thought I was.” You roll your eyes and suck in a breath of air. “I tried doing it my way and what did I get? My father is ready to disown me, everyone in my life is treating me like a joke, minus your folks.”

“I never-”

“No, no, I wasn’t a joke to you. I was a good time.” You correct yourself. “Well, now I’m tired. I’m fucking exhausted and weak, alright? There, I admit it. I’ve been on my own in this and I’m sick and tired of it all. Is it really that different than you giving up music professionally for your merchandising job?”

“My job doesn’t fuck me.” 

The sentence slipped out before Kikaku could filter himself; but it’s true, isn’t it? Won’t your husband expect you to perform your wifely duties? Kikaku’s nails dig into his palms; he can’t get the image out of his head, a faceless man, on top of you, taking you as though you’re his. You might get pregnant. 

“How is this happening? She’s mine…she was mine.”

“It sounds like your job fucks you plenty.” You take a sip of water. “So, is that your issue? You won’t have the chance to get in my pants again if I’m spoken for?”

“Stop changing the subject, this isn’t about me.”

“It’s always about you.” 

Kikaku glares at you, but somehow can’t bring himself to truly be angry; you’re being so despondent and resigned. The person sitting next to him might as well be a stranger. The fire is gone from your eyes and the sly quirk of your lips is nowhere to be seen. But then, maybe that was just the face you showed him. Kikaku can’t even defend himself and say you hadn’t made him aware of what you were going through. You had, multiple times, for years. He just wasn’t taking it to heart. At some point, you apparently decided to pull back entirely. 

“Look, I don’t want to fight. I don’t hate you, Kikaku. This isn’t your business and I never meant for you to even know about the damn wedding. I’m going to get married next week and it’ll be okay. Kenji is a good man; we get along enough. We both know it’s a marriage of convenience.” You smile but it doesn’t reach your dull eyes. “Who knows? Maybe somewhere down the line we could fall in love. Either way, we’ll be content. It’s more than most people get to have.” 

“This is fucking crazy. You’re crazy.” Kikaku is hunched over the bar counter; his voice is shaking. He can’t look at you; all he can do is stare blankly at the wood panel. “You can’t be happy with this. I don’t believe that for a second.”

“I guess it’s a good thing I’m not asking for your blessing.” You put a few bills on the table. “Here, I still owe you for the last time we got drinks. You might not believe it, but I’m doing what’s best for me. I’m living my life for me. It’s my choice to do this, to make it all a little easier.”

“Is that the logic you’re using? Give up something to gain something you want more?” Kikaku leaves the bills on the counter, untouched. “Is it really worth it? Is this really what you want?”

“That’s also none of your business.” Despite your words, your tone is almost kind; with a faint smile, you stand up and push in the stool. “Have a goodnight, Kikaku.”

No. You can’t leave now, not like this. That smile is as fake as they come. Kikaku knows what your fake smiles look like; he’s always been able to tell how you’re feeling. He might not have been much of a comfort on your bad days, but he knew when you were having them, and he would try to make it a little better. 

When did that stop? It wasn’t his intention to make you feel uncared for. Kikaku might have played around, but it didn’t make his feelings for you any less. He was just caught up in other things. He had no idea you were having that hard of a time. 

You walk away and Kikaku doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t yell or leap from his chair to drag you from the door. He can’t feel his legs. You’re getting married. You’re going to be someone’s wife. He’ll never be able to make up with you. It’s over. You’re not going to give him the second chance Kikaku hadn’t even realized he had been hoping for. 

“She’s really gone. It’s really over. She’s getting married.” Kikaku mutters to himself. “She’s getting married and I…I can’t do anything to stop it.”

“Hey don’t worry so much. Most marriages end in divorce.” The bartender comes over to collect the empty glasses. “I got married twice and we were actually in love. Besides, if it’s a marriage of convenience, maybe you can be her side piece.”

“Huh?” Kikaku glowered up at the man smiling placidly down at him. “Who the fuck asked you?!”

“Just trying to offer some comfort. I thought you guys weren’t serious anyway. How drunk are you? Don’t you recognize me?” 

“Uh…”

“Nekota? This is my bar; it has been a while, but you came here a few times with a couple of my buddies.” 

“Oh right. Usao-kun and Kumao-kun’s old friend.” Kikaku recalls. “My bad, I was…I’m kinda out of it today.” 

“I could tell. That seemed rough. Want something stronger? On me, but just this once; still gotta make those child support payments after all, haha.” Nekota laughs good naturedly as he pulls down a bottle of tequila from the middle shelf. “Hey, that’s something to drink to; you’re a young bachelor, you’ve got plenty of time to settle down if you want to.”

Settle down? Kikaku never wanted to settle down; that was why things didn’t work between him and you in the first place. He has no right to feel so deflated. 

Was there some secret part of him that hoped you would eventually come back? Well, contrary to Nekota’s assurances, Kikaku doesn’t have time. You’re going to be married in a week. You’ll be someone else’s. He won’t have a place in your world, not any more, not when you’re going to be somebody's beautiful, blushing bride. 

“She doesn’t even love him. How can she do this?”

“Come on, Kikaku, right? Here, have a drink and relax.” Nekota beckons with his hand and sets down the shot of tequila. “The little lady said so herself, it’s not your problem.”

“No. I guess it’s not.”

Nekota is right and Kikaku doesn't need a two time divorcee to lecture him on matters of the heart. You had every right to go and marry another person, for whatever reason. Kikaku isn't even your friend anymore and he's certainly not your boyfriend. You don't owe him a thing and it's not his place to step in and try to convince you to not go through with a sham marriage. You've chosen your path and he's chosen his. All he can do now is toast to your nuptial and hope for the best. He can do that much for you.

"To the bride and groom." 

"Here, here!" Nekota clinks his own shot glass with Kikaku's. "Good man, you're gonna be just fine."

"Cheers." Kikaku slurs and downs his shot in one large swallow. "Here's to the whole thing goes off without a hitch."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Do you take this woman, to have and to hold, to-”

“I OBJECT! NO ONE SAY ANOTHER DAMN WORD, I OBJECT!!!”

It took Kikaku two hours to get up that morning; he had been drinking into the late hours of the night in a last ditch effort to make sure he wasn't able to be mobile today off all days. Even now, dressed sloppily in an old suit, hair hastily tied back and eyes sunken in with sleep deprivation, he feels like he’s running in a dream. The venue is quaint but tastefully decorated in pastels. There’s not many guests; he supposes your father wanted to get the wedding done with little fanfare. The objective was to tie you down, not throw a celebration. 

“Son of a bitch.” Your father is the first one to rise; he addresses you angrily. “Did you invite him?”

“N-no!” 

You look aghast, glancing rapidly between Kikaku as he comes barreling down the aisle and your soon to be husband. Kenji looks twice as confused and a little scared, which is fair, considering how haggard and demented Kikaku looks, like a twitchy spider rushing to catch its prey. You hadn’t heard a peep from Kikaku since that night and his parents had politely turned down your invite, as they had a previous engagement they were committed to attend. It was a good thing they couldn’t, because you’re certain both Kikaku’s mother and father would keel over and die from the spectacle their son is currently making of himself. 

“I said, I object!” 

"Heavens above." The priest frowns. “Not another one.”

“WILL YOU SHUT UP?” It’s a wonder Kikaku can yell so loudly when he’s barely breathing; there’ sweat stains at his collar and the underarms of his blazer. “You can’t marry these two-they shouldn’t be married!”

“Who the heck are you?” Kenji’s brows furrow and he looks at you questioningly. “Do you know this guy?”

“Yes.” You sigh. “Kikaku, you’ve been drinking, haven’t you? I could smell you from the doors. Didn’t I tell you this wasn’t any of your business?”

“I don’t care! Dammit, I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry it took me so long to get my head out of my ass, but this isn’t about me.” Kikaku finally manages to speak without gasping. “I get it. You’re tired of dealing with your father’s bullshit and you think this is the only way out, but it’s not.”

“I’m calling the police!” Your father’s face is red and he looks ready to run up to the podium and deck Kikaku in the face. “How dare you? Haven’t you done enough? You weren’t good enough for her then and you sure as hell aren’t now.”

“Dad, you don’t need to call the police,” You look at him pleadingly. “Kikaku will leave on his own. He knows this is what I want.”

“No it’s not.” 

“Dammit, will you leave already!?” You’re the one raising your voice now; hot tears prick the corners of your eyes. “Why, Kikaku? Why are you doing this to me? Are you just upset because I won’t be available anymore? Well, too bad. Go play with one of your girlfriends and stop making a scene.”

“I’m sorry. I'll say it as many times as I have to.” Kikaku steps forward until he’s standing in front of you. “I’m sorry for not listening. I’m sorry it took me this long to get it, but you don’t have to get married.”

“What? Is this your idea of a proposal or something?”

“I don’t deserve you either. I should have been there more. I can be.” Kikaku looks at you, exhausted, desperate. “Don’t do this. Let me be there for you like I should have been all this time. You don’t have to fight on your own, not anymore. I’ll never leave you alone again.”

You blink and tears drip down your cheeks. “Kikaku,”

“I sent out messages to all the girls I was seeing last night. Look at my contact list.” Kikaku takes his phone out of his pocket and shows you the screen; his contact list only has a handful of names, people you recognize as family and work colleagues and friends. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, just…don’t marry this guy.”

“Kikaku, you’re being absolutely-!”

“Hey,” Kenji begins tentatively. “I think he makes a few good points.”

“What?” You turn to stare at your fiance. “But, I agreed to this.”

“It’s not like we’re in love.” Kenji cracks a begrudging smile. “It could’ve been nice but something tells me that’s not going to cut it.”

“I’m…I couldn’t just-”

“Also, your friend’s kinda freaking everyone out and I’m a little scared he’s going to put a curse on me.” Kenji glances at Kikaku. “You couldn’t have showered before coming to take the bride away?”

“You-!” Kikaku grabs your hand. “Just for that, you’re cursed! Everyone’s cursed! I hope the open bar is worth it assholes!” his eyes soften as he looks at your stricken face. “Can we talk somewhere more private? I think your old man is gonna kill me before the cops show up.”

You look at his hand; his palm is sweaty. 

“Please.” Kikaku’s voice is hoarse. “I won’t leave without you. I never want to go anywhere without you.”

“Damn you.” You’re really crying now. “You asshole.”

“Yeah.” Kikaku offers a weak smile; he glances down at your dress. “Oh. Wow.”

“Don’t say it.” You shake your head and wipe your eyes aggressively. “I know, it wasn't my choice.”

“You’re beautiful.”

Kikaku exhales and his grip on your hand tightens; he’s only just taking in the sight of you, dressed head to toe in a flowing white gown, dolled up and looking like an angel descended from heaven. 

Maybe he was full of shit because right now all Kikaku wants to do is take you away for himself. He brings a hand up to wipe the tears off your cheek; why do you look so sad? Is he really not wanted here? Is giving himself to you not enough?

“I’ve been a fucking mess all week.” Kikaku admits, eyes searching your face for any sign you don’t despise him. “I couldn’t sleep or eat or focus at work. I’m being shameless, you don’t have to tell me that. Maybe it’s too late for us, but I can still fix this. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Just tell me what I have to do.”

You’re blushing now under his intense stare. “...take me with you.”

“What?” Kikaku leans in to catch every word. “What do you want?”

“You. I want you, Kikaku. I want you to take me out of here.” You confess, trying not to whimper as his thumb rubs your hot cheek. “I can’t do this without you.”

“Say no more.”

You hike up your skirt and kick off your heels; Kikaku leads the way, the two of you ignore the shouts and gasps and threats being hurled your way by your father. Your eyes stay glued on the hand still clutching onto yours and you run, run, run until the car is in sight, decked out in flowers and a “Just Married” sign on the back. Kikaku opens the passenger side door and guides you into the backseat, even lifting the hem of your skirt so the door doesn’t close on it. The driver, rightfully skeptical and a bit horrified, practically throws the keys at Kikaku when he screeches for them. 

“I think everyone assumes you’re some sort of demon here to kidnap me.” You watch as the driver races up the steps of the venue, probably to explain why he’s left his post. “We’re going to have to return the car.”

“For now we drive,” Kikaku turns the keys, backs out of the parking space, and slams his foot on the gas. 

“This is fun for you, isn’t it?”

“A little.” Kikaku laughs, suddenly quite cheerful. “I’m relieved. I thought I was going to lose you…again. I won’t make that mistake again.”

“I’m still on the fence about that.” You tell him warily, taking off your veil. “Did you really mean all that?”

“I might have lied a tiny bit about not wanting to steal you away. I want you for myself. I know it’s not fair to you, but that’s how I feel. I was going crazy.” Kikaku looks at you from the corner of his eye. “You look really good right now.”

“Thanks.” You adjust your seat belt. “Eyes on the road.”

“I want to fuck you in the dress.” Kikaku blurts out. “Let’s get a hotel and pretend we’re married to get a free bottle of champagne.”

“Aren’t you still hungover?”

“Hair of dog. Besides, this calls for a celebration.” Kikaku smirks a little. “I know it’s scary the first time, but I’ll be gentle with my pretty little bride.”

“Kikaku, was this all so you could play out some weird little fantasy?” You grumble. “I’m gonna jump out of this car and run back and see if Kenji will reconsider.”

“No! I was half joking…I just want you so bad.”

“Kikaku,” You cross your arms. “I mean it, I’m not in the mood for any teasing.”

“I meant it all. I’m yours, if you’ll have me.” One of Kikaku’s hands leaves the steering wheel; his playful smile is gone. “Do you not want me anymore? I don’t expect you to believe in me, after everything…but do you want to try again?”

For a tense moment, Kikaku thinks his chest will explode; he might actually die if you say no, even if you have every right to reject him. But then you take his hand and interlock your fingers. You smile, a little exasperated, but it’s a real, genuine smile. It practically blinds him; Kikaku has half a mind to beg you to marry him then and there. There’s still time and Kikaku plans to use it making you fall in love with him so you never regret today.

“Yes.” You kiss the back of his hand and smile brighter than he’s ever seen. “I do.” 

There's parallels between Matakara and Shindo that I think may be foreshadowing Matakara becoming antagonistic to Arajin down the line:

They both started out weak and victims to stronger people and grew to idolize people who inspired them to become stronger (Arajin and Mitsukuni for Matakara, Kenichiro for Shindo). They both value strength but that's where the similarities start differing: Matakara pursues an ideal that being strong comes with integrity. To Shindo, it's about control. Controlling the people around him and doing whatever it takes to get what you want, morals and code of honor are for suckers. Being a "strong man" is using whatever you have your disposal to gain it and if you do that, you've proven something, it doesn't really matter "how".

It's interesting how Mahoro sees right away the core of Shindo's character: he's hollow. He doesn't really stand for anything, doesn't have principles and his mindset earned the disapproval of the person he admired and strove to be like at one point. That's where his motivations stem from: Shindo is petty af and behind the drive he has to prove his way is the "right" way, he doesn't have much substance. I've heard people say some of his viciousness might be from his attachment to Ichiya but 1. It's debatable how much influence a Honki person has when they merge we still don't know too much about how the connection works and 2. We don't actually know much about Ichiya's personality, we just know Senya has a rivalry with him and something went down between them

With all that being said, I'm certain Ichiya is going to attach himself to Matakara and somehow it will result in Matakara similarly becoming antagonistic to Arajin and struggling to maintain his ideals or maybe he ends up becoming too extreme with them under Ichiya (and maybe his brother's?) influence?

And serious I am so fucking curious about how Mitsukuni is going to be involved with the plot. Why did he got to juvie? How strong is he? Does he know anything about Honki people? How I he going to react to Arajin being back and becoming so strong? (I'm assuming they at least knew of each other previously since Matakara and Arajin were childhood friends) What sort of person is he? Did he change being locked up? My brain is buzzing I can't stress how excited I am for what feels like Act 2 of this awesome show.

Could you do a Mataka x reader x slight creepy Shindo. The reader is Arajins sister that just got discharged from the hospital and is cleared to go to school. (They are part of the reason their family moved back) They’ve had a childhood crush on Mataka, but they met Shindo in a book store. He thinks winning Arajin is through his sister, or threaten them.

This got my brain buzzing with ideas! Here's the first part, I'll probably break it down to 3 parts total!

A Chance Meeting and a Declaration of Protection?!

Summary: You've come back to your old hometown for a fresh start and a shot at a normal life; too bad being reunited with your childhood crush and attracting the attention of an unhinged gang leader is proving a detriment to your health in more ways than one! wc: 2.3 A/N: This takes place in an AU without honki people/magic, and tw for future chapters for Shindo being a creep/yandere coded because...I mean come on. Makatara/f!Reader/Shindo (mostly one sided though)

“Come on, just a little more…”

Standing on your tiptoes, you stretch your arm as high as you can, but the novel atop the highest shelf is still out of reach.

“Ugh, I should have asked Macchan to come and help me.”

“My, my, what do we have here?”

You feel a presence behind you before you hear their voice; at first you had assumed Arajin had returned to the bookstore to walk you home. Your mother had made him your personal escort of sorts and your brother had obeyed, walking you to and from the few places you felt well enough to explore. 

After spending so much time in a hospital bed, being outside was almost overwhelming, but you also felt restless. When you found out your favorite bookstore was still open after all these years, you could have cried. Now as you stand on somewhat wobbly legs, vision a touch fuzzy, the last thing you need is stress. Where was Arajin? And who was this strange man smirking at you like you were some amusing joke?

“You must realize the owner has a ladder for this exact reason.” 

“Huh?” 

He taps the spine of the book, easily reaching over your head. “This book, you want it, yes?”

“Oh, yes.” You nod, somewhat hesitantly; your eyes scan the aisle, but it would seem there’s no one else around.  Briefly, your eyes linger on his braided hair and light eyes; he wasn’t wearing a school uniform, just a plain, gray sweatshirt and matching pants. You were certain he was around your age though. 

“What are you staring at?”

“Oh sorry, I was thinking, um, did you want the book?” You smile apologetically, hoping your embarrassment wasn’t obvious. “I didn’t mean to be in the way.”

“No, no, I was amused by you hopping like a bunny.”

Your smile falls. “Uh, I guess I’ll just go on and ask for assistance then-”

But the stranger takes the book, holds it up over your head with a sickly sweet smile.

“I wouldn’t leave a lady struggling. Here, take it.”

“Oh, thank you.”

But before you can take the book, he holds it up even higher. You frown, confused; is he just messing with you?

“I thought you were giving me the book?”

“Isn’t it a bit rude to ask for favors from a stranger?” He asks innocently. “My name is Shindo  Akutaro; might I ask for your name?”

“Tomoshibi.” You say curtly. “May I please have that book, Shindo-san?”

“I suppose.” 

The book is unceremoniously dropped and you fail to catch it; the novel lands on the hard tiled floor and you slowly kneel to pick it up. Bending and stooping too quickly makes you light headed and your limbs feel like noodles at the least bit of sudden motion. 

“You don’t need to kneel before me for such a small favor.” 

Shindo’s smile widens until you see his canines; he looks down at you over the rim of his glasses, eyes shining with an odd sort of glee, as though you’re doing something very silly and he has to hold back laughter. You straighten up, standing up too quickly; for a second, you teeter on unsteady feet and your hand grabs the shelf for support. 

“You look very pale; are you sick? In that case, maybe you ought to be home, not hopping around.”

“I spent enough time cooped up.” You rub your forehead gently with your fingers, holding the book to your chest. “I should be able to manage shopping for a book.”

It’s more than your desire to purchase a new novel though; this book store is a place of comfort. You used to spend hours either browsing the selection or sitting in the cafe area to read the newest addition to your collection. It wasn’t like you could run around with Arajin and Matakara, as badly as you wanted to. Even now, you’ve only just begun to feel what you assume for others is something like “normal”. 

“It’s not funny.”

Shindo blinks, looking vaguely perturbed as you stare up at him defiantly; suddenly, you feel very irritated. Whether it’s due to his prior teasing or your own frustration, you’re not sure. 

“Thanks, I suppose, for getting the book.” You say quietly. “But I don’t appreciate a perfect stranger laughing at me. I never asked to be sick and I didn’t ask for your help. Excuse me, but my brother will be here soon to take me home and I need to go buy this.”

With a slight nod, you scurry away to the register on the other side of the store; as he hands you the receipt and your new book, a soft chime signals someone has entered the store. You turn around, met with the sight of a disgruntled Arajin and-

“Macchan?” You almost drop your bag and wallet. “What are you doing here?”

“I bumped into Ara-chan, so I thought I’d tag along.” Matakara waves with a sunny smile. “You’re doing okay? You haven’t had to go back to the hospital or anything?”

“I told you she was fine.” Arajin walks over to you and takes your hand. “Come on, let’s get going,”

“You’re in a hurry for someone who was late to get me.”

“Mom asked me to pick up a few things for dinner.” Arajin explains with a sigh, leading you to the sliding doors, Matakara following behind dutifully. “I figured you’d want more time anyway; you could have called.”

“You could have called if you were going to be gone later.” You grumble, slipping your hand from his grasp. “Arajin, slow down, I can’t walk that fast.”

“Do you want me to take that?” Matakara comes to your side. “Here, let me carry your bag. You look kinda pale.”

“So I’ve heard.” You sigh; of course he had to come and see you winded from the most menial task. “Thanks Macchan, but I got it.”

“Come on, we need to get home.” Arajin gives Matakara a look. “Don’t you have to get going too?”

“I can stay.” Matakara turns to you. “You don’t mind, do you? I feel like we haven’t had a chance to catch up since you moved back. It’s been too long.”

“No kidding; honestly I almost didn’t recognize you when you came to visit.” You chuckle and pat the top of Matakara’s head. “I used to be taller than you.”

“Um, yeah.”

Matakara’s face flushes a bit; it’s nice to see he hasn’t changed too much from the bashful sweetheart you remember. Now, if only you had changed as much; you both envy and admire your old friend’s strong build. 

“Don’t strain yourself too much tomorrow.” Arajin looks over his shoulder at you; he’s still looking a bit grumpy, but his eyes soften as they meet yours. “My class is basically across the hall from you and the teacher’s already know what to expect.”

“I know, I’ll be okay!”

You sound more confident than you feel; from what Arajin has said about his time attending the academy, the place sounds less like an institution of education and more a playground for delinquents. Still, you have limited options and if you have to attend a school in the area, you feel better knowing at least two people already. 

“I’m in the same class as Ara-chan; you can come to me if there’s a problem. If you want to.” Matakara says with an oddly serious expression. “I’ll be there, so you don’t have to worry about anything.”

“I’m not worried.” You lie, your smile feeling like a mask stretched over your face. “Thank you, Macchan. I don’t want to bother you though, you and Arajin have your own lives. I’m sure I’ll be totally fine. I’m so pitiful, even bullies don’t want to bug me.”

“No you’re not.” Matakara frowns. “You’re not pitiful, you're strong. I always thought so. You should too.”

You’re not sure how to respond; Arajin makes a choking sound deep from his throat and puts his hands over his ears.

“Ugh, I can not listen to this! You two walk back together, I’m going on ahead.”

“Huh?!”

“Arajin!” You gap as your brother stalks off down the sidewalk without a glance back at you. “That little shit! He’s lucky I can’t chase him down. Ugh, sorry Macchan, he’s being such a brat.”

“No, it’s okay.”

“It is not.” You huff, crossing your arms, glaring at the dot that’s now Arajin’s head. “He’s been on edge ever since we came back. I get him being angry with me, but you haven’t done anything.”

“Why would Ara-chan be angry with you?”

“Not me exactly, just,” You unfold your arms and they hang at your sides. “A big reason we came back was for my treatment. Mom’s settled in fine but Arajin…it’s not my place to speak for him, but I know being here is frustrating.”

“But it’s not your fault you’re sick.”

“Still, I think…he’d never say so, but I think he resents me. Arajin always has to deal with mom putting me first because of my poor health.”

Arajin never says it, but you can tell he gets frustrated; he never asked for a sister who constantly needed to be minded and tended to. Even now as you’ve gotten older, he’s still being pushed into the role of caretaker. You don’t want him to feel like he’s responsible for how you do when you go back to attending in person classes. 

“He brings a lot of it on himself, but I know he worries about me. Anyway, I don’t want to burden him or you.” You muster up a genuine smile. “I’m going to take it one day at a time, but I can do this. I have to at least try; I can’t let it all be for nothing.”

“You,” Matakara pauses, gazing at you with wide eyes and parted lips. “You haven’t changed at all.”

You can’t help snort. “Seriously? I know I said I wanted to toughen up and all, but-”

“You’ve gotten even cooler.”

Maybe it’s a good thing Arajin decided to leave the two of you in the dust; if he saw the way Matakara was staring at you, you might have had Arajin ready to drag you away. Before you can say anything, Matakara gently takes the bag from your loosened grip.

“For the record, I never thought looking after you was a burden. I want you to ask me for help. Matakara confesses shyly. “I’m stronger now.”

“I noticed.” Your eyes flicker to his arms; his muscles are basically straining against the thin cotton of his worn t-shirt. “Are you sure? I really don’t have trouble carrying something that small.”

“I want to!” Matakara insists; he almost whines and your heart skips a beat as he pouts down at you. “I could even carry you if you needed me to.”

“Okay, okay, I got it.” At this point the thought of your crush carrying you around in his absurdly strong arms is making you so lightheaded, you might end up needing to be hauled home anyway. On the bright side, you doubt you’re looking pallid; heat radiates from your face as Matakara walks with you. He walks in time with your steps; if you asked, he would probably take your hand to lead you home.

“I bet you’re really popular.” You nudge his shoulder. “Arajin told me you’re like, a class leader or something?”

“He did?”

“Uh huh. But don’t tell him I told you.” You put a finger to your lips. “If you do, I’ll tell him about how you cried after stealing one of my horror novels.”

“I didn’t know it was a scary book! I thought it was about a magic doll.”

“To be fair, it was brought to life with occult magic. I still can’t believe you threw out my baby doll.”

“...I thought it would come to life and haunt you.”

“That’s right, I was so mad!” You recall with a giggle. “Do dolls still freak you out?”

“No...”

“Aw,” You feel a bit guilty at the kicked puppy dog look on Matakara’s face. “I’m sorry for teasing you.”

Matakara remains silent for a few seconds and you feel anxious: was that too far? It had been a long time since the two of you were able to talk like this. Perhaps you were getting ahead of yourself, acting so familiar with him. 

“Matakara? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hassle you. I won’t actually tell Arajin about the doll thing.”

“It’s not that.” 

Matakara fidgets with the handle of the shopping bag; the sun is setting now. The soft golden light makes his eyes almost sparkle; as if getting enough oxygen wasn’t already a concern. Now you had to have your breath stolen by the warm gaze holding your attention captive. 

“It’s just…I don’t want you to think of me that way. I’m not that weak cry baby anymore.”

“I never thought you were.” You tell him earnestly. “I shouldn’t have teased you.”

“You really don’t get it.” Matakara’s voice lowers. “Even though you were so sick, you looked out for me. Now I want to do that for you. I want you to see me as someone strong you can depend on.”

“Macchan, you don’t have to look out for me: that’s not your responsibility.”

“Do I…look different to you?”

“What?”

Matakara inches a bit closer, as if he's afraid to startle you, before taking yours hands in his own. You can feel callouses on his warm palms are warm; his cheeks are pink and his stare is hard with determination. Abruptly, you're reminded of that tenderhearted boy who would rush to your side every time you so much as hinted at being fatigued.

"Do you trust me?"

"O-of course." You study his urgent gaze warily. "I always have."

“I could-no. I will protect you. If anyone tries to bother you tomorrow, you come straight to me. I’ll deal with them. I'll be there; as long as you can trust in that, I can only get stronger." Matakara squeezes your hands gently. "Believe in me and I'll protect you with that strength."

You’re taken aback; you’ve never heard Matakara speak this way to you or at all. Not that you don’t appreciate it; on the contrary, your tummy is doing somersaults. With that said, you can’t help wondering: just how much did your friend change these past few years? And what exactly is he expecting he’ll need to protect you from? 

Does anyone think the genie will leave Shindo and go to someone else?

I think it might end up getting transferred to Matakara ( maybe somehow involving his brother and Matakara's own insecurities about his strength) but that's just my theory. Ichiya will be like "ugh Shindo dude is actually weaksauce" and he may want to use Matakara since he's closer to Arajin who Senya is currently attached to.