The air buzzed with a mixture of tension and anticipation as the members of Toman gathered, their gazes fixed on the tall, unruly figure of Shuji Hanma standing incongruously among them. Whispers flitted through the crowd like darting sparrows, each one laden with the question: Why was he here?
Mikey's voice cut through the murmurs as he stepped forward, his presence commanding immediate silence. "We fought hard, and we won," Mikey declared, his steely eyes sweeping over the sea of faces before him. "Valhalla is no more. And we have this man to thank for part of that." He gestured toward Hanma, who stepped up with an unreadable smirk on his lips.
"Today, we grow even stronger," Mikey continued, gesturing towards Hanma. "Shuji Hanma has something to say."
"Valhalla has been without a leader for too long," Hanma began, his voice carrying effortlessly. "Their defeat means they'll now fall under Toman." Cheers erupted, fists pumping into the air as the reality of their expanding dominion set in.
"None of this would've been possible without one man," Hanma continued, his gaze sweeping across the crowd before settling on a solitary figure. "Tetta Kisaki."
A shiver ran down Takemichi's spine as Kisaki emerged, the future ramifications of this union flashing like neon signs in his mind. What disaster could this alliance bring?
When the cheers died down, Mikey's solemn tone reclaimed their focus. "We won, yes. But we also lost a brother—Keisuke Baji." A respectful silence fell, heads bowed in memory of the fallen.
"Chifuyu, say a few words," Mikey instructed, stepping back.
Chifuyu took Mikey's place, the gravity of his role as speaker apparent in his solemn expression. "I thought about leaving Toman," Chifuyu confessed, his voice thick with emotion. "But Mikey asked me a question I couldn't ignore. Was I going to let the flame of the 1st Division die out? I wasn't sure I could bear the weight of being Captain."
A collective breath held in anticipation as Chifuyu paused, collecting himself before continuing.
"Mikey and I talked it over, for days on end and Mikey and I have come to a decision," Chifuyu announced. "The 1st Division needs a captain who embodies its spirit, someone Baji himself would have chosen."
He glanced around, making eye contact with many who looked up to him. "And I've decided that I'll follow the path chosen by someone who does embodies Baji's spirit."
He paused, looking over the crowd until his eyes found Ayame, small and unassuming on the sidelines. "Ayame," he called out, his voice firm. "Step forward."
Ayame, her face a mask of shock, hesitated only a moment before approaching the shrine where the leaders stood. "Ayame, Baji believed in you. I believe in you. Become the 1st Division Captain. 1st Division needs a captain who honors Baji's memory," Chifuyu declared. "We choose you." Chifuyu continued, his gaze steady on her.
Takemichi watched, his heart thudding in his chest. This was a turning point. He could feel it. The past didn't have to dictate the future—not if he had anything to say about it.
Ayame's astonishment melted away as she walked up to Mikey, who draped Baji's old Toman jacket over her shoulders. "This is our family," he said proudly. "And family looks out for each other. "You've proven yourself time and again. She's tough, she's loyal and you've been with us since the beginning. That's the kind of dedication Toman needs."
"Takemichi, you'll be working with me—and under Chifuyu," Mikey announced, nodding at Takemichi.
With resolve steeling his veins, Takemichi stepped forward to accept his fate. The pit of worry in his stomach was overshadowed by a burgeoning hope.
Ayame's eyes met Mikey's with a look of profound admiration, a silent promise of unwavering dedication.
"Family," Ayame echoed, her voice barely above a whisper, but her eyes blazing with newfound determination as she tugged her brothers' jacket over her. She embraced Chifuyu tightly, then pulled back, laughing despite herself. "Someone really should have warned me."
"Sorry, but no one else would do," Chifuyu replied, his laughter mingling with hers. "Your brother would be proud."
As the two shared a moment of camaraderie, Takemichi looked on, his fears momentarily quelled by the solidarity he witnessed. Perhaps Toman's future was still unwritten, and maybe, just maybe, he was the one holding the pen.
•• ━━━━━ ••✾•• ━━━━━ •••• ━━━━━ ••✾••
Takemichi's handshake was firm, the contact sending a jolt through him that wrenched him from the past. When his vision cleared, he stood within the familiar walls of the DVD rental shop, the scent of plastic and popcorn heavy in the air. Hasegawa, the manager, approached with an apologetic tilt to his brows. "Sorry, Takemichi-kun, we couldn't find that rare film you asked for."
"Uh, no problem," Takemichi mumbled, still disoriented. His reflection caught his eye—a stranger in designer clothes, hair styled in a way that felt foreign yet expensive. The door chimed behind him as he exited, still reeling.
A sleek black car idled at the curb, and a man with a sharp jawline leaned against it. "Boss, let's go." The unfamiliar face expected compliance; hesitation wasn't something he accounted for.
"Who are—" Takemichi started, but the words died in his throat.
"Get in," the guy commanded, a note of impatience in his voice.
"Sure," Takemichi said, his voice uncertain. Inside the leather-clad interior, the city slipped by, taking him further from the small apartment he remembered.
"Where are we going?" Takemichi questioned, but his words seemed to evaporate against the tinted windows.
"Your place, boss. Wasn't that your order?" The driver glanced at him through the rearview mirror, eyes unreadable.
"Right," Takemichi played along, squinting at the buildings they passed, nonrecognizable landmarks on his mental map of home.
"Boss?" Takemichi echoed, even as he complied. The leather seat felt alien beneath him as the cityscape whizzed by.
"Actually, I—" Takemichi started, but the words faded as he realized his apartment lay in the opposite direction. He fumbled for his phone to call Naoto, only to find his contact list devoid of the number he sought.
The car pulled up to a high-rise that exuded exclusivity, its facade imposing against the skyline. As the engine went silent, burly men emerged like shadows coalescing into form. Two of them sparked a flicker of recognition in Takemichi's memory.
"About time," one grumbled, his tone edged with respect. "Kazushi had one job—keep you on schedule."
Kazushi – snapped to attention. "We wouldn't be late if you hadn't insisted on stopping at that DVD store," he chastised, and recognition clicked in Takemichi's brain.
"Kazushi... Yamagishi?" The names Makoto Suzuki and Takuya Yamamoto surfaced as well, old friends now clad in suits and scowls.
"Let's move," Kazushi urged, leading the way into an opulent building where everyone seemed to know Takemichi's name.
"Welcome back, Boss!" they chorused as Takemichi staggered out of the car, feeling utterly out of place in his own skin.
"Thanks, guys," he replied, his voice betraying none of the turmoil within.
The opulent lobby was a stark contrast to any place Takemichi had ever called home. Everyone greeted him with deference, calling him "boss" as if it were his given name. Could this be a winning future? Was this success? Or had he just traded one set of problems for another? His mind scrambled for answers.
"Chifuyu?" he gasped as he spotted his friend waiting in the hallway of his apartment.
"Meeting with the upper echelon, Takemichi. Let's not keep them waiting." Chifuyu's tone brooked no argument, but it was his next words that truly stunned him.
"Keep up, will ya?" Chifuyu teased, but his eyes held concern. "You are one of Tokyo Manji Gang's top exec, remember?"
"Right..." Takemichi swallowed hard, following Chifuyu into a spacious conference room.
The meeting room buzzed with tension, unfamiliar and known faces blending into a tableau of power. Pah-chin lounged at the table; a stack of papers ignored beside him. "Not everyone's here yet," he drawled.
Yasuhiro Muto and Nahoya Kawata nodded to Takemichi, their expressions unreadable. But it was the entrance of Ayame that tightened the air—a murmur of respect rippling through the room.
"Sorry I'm late," came Ayame's voice, as steady as her stride into the room. The sight of her stung Takemichi with a pang of reminiscence and worry.
"Always busy, huh, Ayame?" Pah-chin joked, though his eyes betrayed concern.
"Very funny," she retorted, shooting him a pointed look.
"Where's the food at?" Pah-chin called out, breaking the tension that had begun to coil in the room.
"Where's your head today?" Seishu Inui chided, his words colliding with Pah-chin's grumbles for food and the clattering of chairs as the younger faction flexed their financial might over the veterans.
"Focus, we're discussing serious matters here," Seishu Inui snapped back, his eyes challenging the older members. "While you laze around, we're out there making bank for Toman."
"Those ex-Black Dragon punks think they're running the show," Pah-chin complained, casting a disdainful look at Hakkai Shiba, Seishu Inui, and Hajime Kokonoi—the latter two embroiled in a heated debate over finances and loyalty.
"Stop it!" Ayame snapped, her gaze cutting through the arguments. "They might be ex-Black Dragon, but they're Toman now."
"Cops raided our fronts," Shuji Hanma announced, eyes narrowed at the implications. "There's a traitor among us. Focus on the real issue, Someone's leaking info to the cops."
"Impossible," Pah-chin shot back, but Hajime's dark eyes flashed.
"Then explain the raids on my IT company, Hakkai's fronts?" Shuji Hanma's voice sliced through the chaos.
"Traitor? In Toman?" Pah-chin scoffed; disbelief etched across his features.
"Can't see any other way, what else could it be?" " Hajime countered; his voice cold.
'Power struggles never change,' Takemichi thought bitterly, watching the scene unfold.
Before the quarrel could reignite, the door swung open, and silence fell like a guillotine. Tetta Kisaki entered, his very presence commanding respect—or fear. One by one, heads bowed in deference. Despite his infrequent appearances, his influence was undeniable.
"Apologies," Kisaki began, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on Takemichi and Chifuyu. "But I need to speak with both of you." He strode toward Ayame and before anyone could react, he swept Ayame into a kiss that left Takemichi reeling. "And Ayame, wait for me," Kisaki murmured, his touch lingering on her face just a second too long.
With a nod that held more weight than words, Ayame watched him leave, her expression unreadable. Takemichi's heart raced with questions—their interaction, the look in her eyes—was she once again his wife in this altered future?
"Come on, Takemichi," Chifuyu urged, snapping him back to the present. "Let's see what this is all about."
•• ━━━━━ ••✾•• ━━━━━ •••• ━━━━━ ••✾••
Takemichi's eyes adjusted to the dim light of the secluded room, where Kisaki stood with a self-assured smile that didn't reach his eyes. The tension was palpable as he poured three glasses of amber liquid, handing them to Takemichi and Chifuyu with an almost ceremonial reverence.
"Twelve years," Kisaki began, his voice laced with a deceptive calm, "since Baji's death. My fault, all of it." He searched their faces for a reaction, finding only stony silence from Chifuyu and bewilderment from Takemichi. "Valhalla's creation, the Bloody Halloween—it was my orchestration for power."
Takemichi watched Chifuyu stiffen beside him, a storm of emotions playing across his face. Kisaki continued, revealing the dark truth of the Bloody Halloween with a twisted sense of pride. He had used Hanma, manipulated Kazutora, all for the sake of power. He claimed it was never his intention to kill Baji, offering an empty apology that hung heavy in the air.
"Let's take a toast to Baji," Kisaki said, pouring three glasses of whiskey from a decanter on the table.
The liquid burned as it went down, and Takemichi's head began to swim. Kisaki's smirk twisted further as he dropped the facade, admitting to orchestrating Baji's death. Takemichi's vision blurred, the world spinning out of control until darkness pulled him under.
When consciousness clawed back, pain seared through Takemichi. His cry muffled by the gag in his mouth, his eyes flew open to see Kisaki standing over Chifuyu, who was tied up next to him. The kick that had sent agony rippling through Chifuyu's frame was nothing compared to the malice in Kisaki's eyes.
"Confess, you're the traitors," Kisaki demanded, his voice dripping with venom. "You've been after revenge for Baji's death all this time," Kisaki spat out, demanding a confession of treason from them.
Chifuyu's voice was ragged but resolute. "I wanted to cleanse Toman from your rot. I am the traitor, not Takemichi."
Kisaki's laugh was a harsh sound, devoid of humor. Without warning, he drew a gun and fired, the bullet sinking into Takemichi's leg. A scream tore from his throat, muted behind the gag as white-hot pain exploded through him.
"Does Ayame know the truth?" Chifuyu's voice was ragged, but insistent. "Would she stand by you if she knew, or if Mikey were here?"
The smirk on Kisaki's face widened. "She'll never know. She's mine, as long as she breathes."
The door burst open, and Ayame rushed in, her eyes wide with horror. "Stop this, Kisaki! What are you doing?"
"Silence!" Kisaki barked, turning the gun towards her for a moment. "You think I don't know about you and Chifuyu? Your little romance affair with Chifuyu is no secret. But Mikey wouldn't let me kill you, so consider yourself lucky."
Ayame's voice trembled with fury. "Baji would be ashamed. He'd want me with Chifuyu or Mikey if he was here, not a monster like you!"
"Shut your mouth, Ayame, I've done nothing but love you since those high school days and you betrayed me." Kisaki sneered. "Remember who you belong to."
"Belong?" Chifuyu shouted back. "You don't love her. You just love the power, the control!"
Their heated exchange was cut short by a final, chilling command from Kisaki. "Enough," he said, cold resolve etched into every syllable as he returned his attention to Chifuyu, gun unwavering.
In the midst of the chaos, Ayame's shock turned to steely resolve as she stepped forward, placing herself between the three men. But Kisaki's grip was iron, and the air grew thick with menace as he pushed her aside, hissing threats that promised a reckoning.
He aimed the gun at Chifuyu's head, his finger itching on the trigger. "Any last words?"
As he pressed the gun to Chifuyu's temple Chifuyu's voice broke with urgency. "Listen, Takemichi, Mikey's gone, Draken executed... We're in deep shit."
Chifuyu's gaze locked with Takemichi's, a taut silence enveloping the room. "Toman... Baji's spirit... I'm entrusting it all to you," he said, his voice a hoarse whisper strained by resolve. His eyes then shifted, softening as they met Ayame's. "Stay safe. You know, don't you? How much I've always..." He swallowed hard; the sentiment clear despite the words left unspoken. "I wanted to be the one for you, not him."
A deep breath steadied him, and Chifuyu's confession continued with an aching sincerity. "Back in high school, I made a silent vow to protect you—no matter what happened between us." Regret shadowed his features. "I'm sorry... I couldn't keep that promise."
"Remember our purpose, Takemichi, Ayame" Chifuyu implored. "Remember why we fight."
Before another word could be shared, before another tear could fall, the sound of a gunshot tore through the thick atmosphere. The echo was deafening, reverberating against the cold walls as Chifuyu's body slumped lifelessly.
"Chifuyu!" Ayame's scream pierced the air, a heart-rending note of despair. She rushed to him, cradling his head, her tears flowing freely over cheeks pale with shock. "No, please not Chifuyu..." she sobbed, her mind reeling back to those carefree school days now stained with the blood of lost futures. "I love you too, so much," she murmured, her words a fragile mantra against the cruel finality.
Takemichi's own sobs choked him, grief, and disbelief warring within as he looked upon his fallen friend. "Chifuyu... no..."
"Is that all?" Kisaki's scornful voice cut through the sorrow, mocking Takemichi's pain. "The great Takemichi, brought low by tears?"
"Stop it, Kisaki!" Ayame's shout was fierce as she stood protectively before Takemichi, her body trembling with outrage.
But Kisaki was relentless. With a brutal grip, he seized Ayame by the throat, his fingers tightening until she was gasping and clawing at his hands. "You will stay out of this," he growled, his voice laced with venom. "You're my wife. You follow my orders."
He released her with a shove, watching dispassionately as she collapsed to the floor, coughing and fighting for air. Kisaki towered over her, his face twisted into a cruel sneer. "Get up," he ordered coldly. "Leave us. I'll deal with you later."
Ayame's gaze moved from Chifuyu's still form to meet Takemichi's, her eyes brimming with unsaid apologies. Rising shakily to her feet, she staggered from the room, each step weighed down by sorrow.
Kisaki turned back to Takemichi, the hardness in his eyes now mingling with something else—tears, inexplicable and enigmatic. "Goodbye, hero," he whispered, the title tainted with bitterness. The gun raised once more, the barrel cold against Takemichi's temple.
And with a haunting click, the world went black.