Morality || Bonten Timeline x Reader || UNDER MAJOR EDITING

24

"Who are you?" Kazutora stood up, shifting on his feet.

The figure chuckled, taking a step closer into the light.

"A friend."

Hanma Shuji grinned, tattooed hands gripping the cold metal bars.

"Hanma." Kazutora's voice held a note of surprise, contrasting the blankness of his face.

"Missed me?" Hanma tilted his head as he poured playfully.

Kazutora's eyes narrowed. "Why are you here?"

With a dramatic gasp, Hanma placed a hand over his heart. "So cold! I came to see you," he leant in a serious expression taking away his cheeky aura, "friend."

"You and I both know, we're not friends." Kazutora stepped closer. "Never have been."

Hanma rolled his eyes, "Yeah, yeah. But we have a common interest. Your sister."

With a frown, Kazutora remembered the request he made many years before.

————

Hanma dragged his feet along, making his way to the juvenile detention centre. It was raining, the droplets of water hammering down and drowning out his thoughts in a welcome but cold way.

He didn't know why he was heading there. He knew who he was going there for. But not why.

"Kazutora Hanemiya." He spoke curtly to the man at the front desk.

"It's not visiting hours." The man started before taking in the ragged appearance of the visitor. He held up a finger and rung up someone before waving a hand to a nearby guard. "Room 68."

Hanma nodded and walked along with his escort, arriving at said cell.

Golden eyes stared up at him, empty and dull like a forgotten a coin left to rust. "Look at you." Hanma smirked, hands gripping the cool metal bars.

"Hanma." Kazutora muttered, eyeing him disinterestedly, "what do you want?"

Hanma shrugged, letting a hand slip as he sank to the floor, aware of the puddle he was creating.

"Kisaki is dead."

"Is that so..?" Kazutora mumbled, head facing the floor. "I hope you're not here for comfort."

Hanma barked out a laugh, "Oh gods no."

But he knew he somewhat was. He was alone in the world, with absolutely no-one.

"Why are you here? It's not like we're friends." Kazutora asked again and Hanma shrugged.

"You know what it's like being all alone." He toyed with the hood of his thin jacket. "Just as I do. We always have been."

Kazutora blinked, started to nod before he froze. "No."

"No?" Hanma quirked a brow.

"I've never been alone." Kazutora looked at his hands. "I had Baji. And my sister."

Hanma's jaw dropped slightly, "You...have a...sister?"

"I hope I still do." Kazutora grimaced, fingers clawing at his nails. "I haven't heard from her in years."

"Oh." Hanma looked around, "that's rough buddy."

Kazutora huffed. Then he looked up at Hanma. "Will you find her for me? Make sure she's okay?"

"Why would I do that? You said it yourself, we're not friends." Hanma smirked. With a light groan, Kazutora picked himself up and knelt in front of the bars.

"Please."

Hanma  looked at him before chuckling, "I'm not exactly hearing what's in it for me."

"I can see the loneliness in your eyes." Kazutora whispered, placing his hands on the bars and looking Hanma in the eye. The taller male shifted back and blinked, masking his emotions with a cryptic laugh.

"What are you on about?"

"Find her, please." Kazutora asked once again before his voice dropped. "It's not safe for her."

"Okay whatever." Hanma sighed, punching off the ground and standing up. "You're a nut case, this was a waste of time."

Kazutora rushed to stand up, rattling the bars violently. "Please, Hanma."

Hanma brushed his words off with a wave of his hand. "Later."

Kazutora fell back to his bed, head falling to his hands. "I'm sorry, (Y/n). I can't protect you."

————

"You actually...?" Kazutora trailed off in disbelief. Hanma nodded.

"I found her."

"How is she?" Kazutora asked, a desperate look in his eyes.

Hanma shifted, hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone, showing a picture of you.

Kazutora reached out for it, stopping his hand as he felt tears form in his eyes. "She's all grown up."

He didn't feel he had the right. He had left you in a terrible situation for years. But he missed you and cared for you deeply.

"She's not well." Hanma revealed, pulling phone away from Kazutora who was trying to cling on to it.

"W-what?" Kazutora stuttered, eyes taking on a look for panic and anxiety. "What do you mean?"

"She killed your father."

It was silent for a minute, before Kazutora sighed.

"What did he do to her?" He pressed a hand to his eyes, biting his lip to stop the tears.

"So you knew he was scum?" Hanma asked and Kazutora forced a laugh.

"Of course. Our whole lives he was worse than a deadbeat."

Hanma hummed and leant down. "He tried to touch her. So she carved him up with the knife you gave her. Then burnt the house down."

Kazutora's eyes widened, his knuckles turning white. "I should've been there to protect her."

Hanma nodded. "Probably. We all make bad decisions though." His surprisingly reassuring words make Kazutora scoff.

"Yeah." He looked up and forced himself to ask, "Where is she now?"

"Imprisoned."

Kazutora blinked. "For killing that man?"

"No no." Hanma shook his head. "No. Not imprisoned like that. I'd say kidnapped."

Hanma knew how he was riling the man up.

"Kidnapped?" Kazutora hissed, anger burning in his gold eyes.

"Yep." Popping the 'p', Hanma smiled lazily, eyes serious.

"Who?" Kazutora asked.

"Mikey."