#haitanis

[sanzusslutt]

Ran: .. .----. -- / ... --- .-. .-. -.-- [translation: I’M SORRY]

Rindou: What’s that?

Ran: Remorse code.

Rindou: I’m even angrier now.

[monochromaticbeans]

We Were Fine: A Haitani Brothers Story

Chapter 1

How did two brothers come to rely solely upon each other and hold Roppongi in the palms of their hands?

Based off of my headcanons for the Haitanis and their early lives.

Tenjiku’s hangout buzzed with conversation, voices overlapping each other in a way that suggested confidence moreso than cohesion. Someone laughed a bit too loudly. Someone else argued over trivialities.

Haitani Ran leaned against a cement pillar, his posture lazy, his eyes were half-focused as if the room were a mildly entertaining show he’d already seen before. He smiled easy. Automatic, rehearsed, and noncommittal. Like always.

Rindou stood beside him, just close enough to register as intentional. He wasn’t truly listening to most of what was being said. He tracked patterns: who spoke first, who echoed, who waited to see which way the room would bend before opening their fat mouth.

Madarame Shion was doing ninety percent of the talking.

“…I’m telling ya,” Shion said, gesturing broadly with his arms outstretched like some manic street preacher, “people get real brave when they think someone else is doin' all the dirty work.”

Rindou glanced at him. Just briefly.

“Is that so, senpai,” he said flatly, deadpan.

Shion’s chest puffed up instantly. Senpai. “Yeah, exactly—wait.” He grinned a mile wide. “See? You get it.”

Ran’s smile twitched, clocking the insult immediately.

Shion shifted his stance, clearly pleased with himself, and turned more fully toward the brothers now, like he’d been personally invited into their orbit. “You two, though,” he continued, his voice dropping as he leaned in conspiratorially. “That’s what I don’t get. Never did."

Ran raised an eyebrow. “What’s there to get?”

“You don’t move like rookies,” Shion said. “But you don’t move like you came up under anybody, either. No old crew stories, no banners, no big name backing you up.”

He laughed, like this was all just casual curiosity. “It’s like you spawned in fully formed.”

Rindou said nothing.

Ran chuckled softly. “Some people skip a few steps.”

Shion waved his hand. “Nah, nah. Everybody comes from somewhere.” His gaze slid back to Rindou, lingering there longer this time, like he expected agreement. “Somebody had to show ya how shit works.”

The room didn’t go quiet, but attention gravitated in their direction all the same.

Rindou’s eyes stayed on Shion.

“We figured it out,” Rindou said. Calm. Neutral. No challenge in it. Just stating simple fact.

Shion blinked, then laughed again. “Sure, sure. Guess that happens when you don’t got anyone breathing down your neck. No gang, no mentors…” He tilted his head, his grin sharpening without meaning to. “No family.”

Ran’s smile didn’t move.

Rindou’s gaze slid past Shion, unfocused on the wall behind him.

Across the room, Kurokawa Izana paused.

He hadn’t been listening openly, just making observations. He sat apart, an elbow resting on a knee, his expression hard to discern. But at that last word, his attention piqued, his eyes landing on the brothers.

Most people reacted when pressed like that. Irritation. Defensiveness. Anger. The Haitanis didn’t. They didn't react at all.

Ran tipped his head slightly, considering Shion like he was deciding whether the comment even deserved a response. “You make it sound like a disadvantage,” he said lightly. “It wasn’t.”

Shion frowned, just a little. “I didn’t mean—” he backpedaled.

“We were fine,” Rindou added.

It wasn’t reassurance. It wasn’t dismissal. It was simply how it was.

Something in Izana’s expression shifted into one of recognition. He’d seen this type before. People who didn’t flinch at the idea of having nothing to return to. People who didn’t frame absence as a loss.

Shion, misreading the silence, scratched the back of his neck. “Hey, I’m just saying. Most people don’t end up like this unless someone fucks them up first.”

Ran pushed off the pillar, finally standing straight to his full height. “Then I guess we’re an exception.”

A couple of guys snickered. Shion scowled, ready to push back—

“Enough.”

Izana’s voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be.

Shion stiffened immediately. The moment dissolved. Conversation fractured and reformed elsewhere, like a broken dish being glued back together.

Shion lingered, though, drifting closer to Rindou’s side as if pulled by gravity. “You know,” he muttered, a little quieter now, “people read too much into stuff like that.”

Rindou glanced at him again.

“Mm,” he said. “They do, senpai.”

Shion grinned again, mollified as he wandered off, apparently satisfied.

Ran leaned closer, his voice low. “You’re cruel.”

Rindou shrugged. “He likes it.”

Across the room, Izana watched them both.

“You don’t talk about your past,” Izana said, addressing them directly now.

Ran turned to face him. “There’s not much worth talking about.”

Izana’s gaze flicked to Rindou, whose expression offered absolutely nothing for him to go on.

“Good,” Izana said. “Tenjiku isn’t built on warm sentiment.”

Ran’s smile widened—this one was genuine and real. “Then it sounds efficient.”

Izana nodded once. The decision was made. The meeting moved on. Plans. Names. Territory. Rindou stopped listening. Because family wasn’t just echoing in his head.

It was opening something.

The apartment swallowed the two of them whole.

At night, every tick of the clock was too loud, the soft hum of the refrigerator running stretched thin in the empty kitchen. The city glittered outside the windows, distant and unconcerned about two kids sitting alone in a living room.

Ran sat cross-legged on the rug, his sleeves pushed up to his elbows, methodically sorting cards back into their box. The board game between them had lost its appeal sometime after the second round. Game pieces and fake money lay scattered where they’d stopped caring about the rules.

Rindou was slumped on the couch, his cheek pressed into the armrest, eyelids fluttering in a slow, uneven rhythm under a pair of glasses sitting askew on his little nose. He fought sleep with the stubbornness only children had—with his chin lifting, eyes opening just long enough to prove he was still awake.

Ran glanced up. “You’re out.”

“No,” Rindou mumbled, blinking hard. “I’m still waiting.”

Ran didn’t argue. He never did.

Their father said he’d be back late. That meant after midnight. Or perhaps two. Or not at all, depending on how the night went. Tonight there was a gala—some business thing, Ran hadn’t paid attention past the part where it explained the suit laid out on the bed and the woman adjusting her earrings in the mirror.

She was new, but not new-new. There was always someone new. Ran didn’t bother learning their names anymore. Neither did Rindou.

The door hadn’t opened since they left.

Ran finished packing the game away and stood, stretching his arms over his head. He checked the time out of habit more than expectation. Past eleven. Rindou’s eyes slid shut again.

Ran crossed the room and nudged him lightly. “Hey.”

Rindou made a sound that might’ve been a protest.

“We can wait in your bed,” Ran said. “It’s more comfortable.”

Rindou squinted at him. “He said—”

“I know,” Ran said easily. “C’mon. Let's go.”

Rindou hesitated, then nodded once, his eyelids surrendering to gravity. Ran slipped an arm under his knees and another around his back, lifting him without much effort. Rindou was small for his age, all elbows and angles, lighter than he should’ve been.

As Ran carried him down the hall, Rindou’s head tipped forward, resting against Ran’s shoulder. His breathing evened out almost immediately.

Ran slowed his steps.

Rindou’s room was neat in the way of a space that no one really used. The bed was made, the sheets tucked tight. A nightlight glowed faintly by the wall, something their mother had insisted on before she left. Ran pushed back the covers and settled Rindou onto the mattress.

Rindou stirred, his eyes cracking open.

“Did he come back?” he asked.

“Not yet,” Ran said, removing his brother's glasses and setting them on the nightstand.

Rindou frowned, processing that for half a second before sleep dragged him under again. His fingers twitched, catching briefly in Ran’s sleeve before loosening.

Ran stayed there for a bit longer, watching his brother breathe. He didn’t feel sad about it. That part had come and gone already. What he felt instead was quieter—an understanding, settling into place like oversized furniture that would never be moved again.

People left. Or didn’t even arrive to begin with. Promises were flexible things you adjusted to.

Ran pulled the covers up and smoothed Rindou’s hair back from his face. He paused at the door, listening.

Nothing.

Back in the living room, the clock kept ticking. Midnight came and went. Ran turned off the overhead lights, leaving only the glow from the city and the lamp by the couch.

He didn’t wait by the door.

When the sound of voices finally drifted in—laughter, heels clicking, the murmur of familiarity, it was well past the hour where it would have mattered.

Ran was still awake. He didn’t bother to look up when the door opened.

“Ah,” his father said, distracted, surprised to see him there. “You’re still up.”

Ran shrugged. “Rindou fell asleep.”

The woman leaned against the doorframe, smiling politely. Ran didn’t look at her long enough to return it.

His father checked his watch, frowning faintly, already thinking ahead. “You should’ve gone to bed.”

Ran smiled. It came easy, even back then. “We were fine.”

His father nodded, satisfied with that answer, and turned away.

Ran listened to them move through the apartment, doors opening, closing. Another presence, temporary as all the others.

He didn’t resent it. He just stopped counting.

The meeting broke apart, dissolving into pieces. Small groups drifted toward the exits, voices overlapping again, plans dissolving into casual talk and boisterous claims.

Rindou stepped away from the wall and headed for the door without looking back. He assumed Ran would follow because he always does. They always follow each other.

Footsteps fell into sync beside him.

“Tch,” Shion scoffed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Izana’s got a way of killing a mood, huh?”

Rindou hummed in vague agreement.

They walked in silence for a few steps. Shion didn’t seem bothered by it. Silence just becomes another thing he fills when he feels like it.

“You know,” Shion continued, “when I said that stuff earlier, I wasn’t trying to start anything.”

Rindou glanced at him.

Shion scratched his cheek, suddenly with less of his usual bluster. “Just… people can get touchy about where they came from. Thought I’d say it before someone else did.”

Rindou considered that. Not the words themselves, but the intent behind them.

The thought came, unbidden, of a too-big apartment. Of a door that didn’t open when it was supposed to. Of Ran’s voice, calm and unbothered, saying we were fine and meaning we learned how to be.

Shion cleared his throat. “If it pissed you off, I—”

“It didn’t,” Rindou said plainly.

Shion paused for a moment, in disbelief. “Yeah?”

“It didn't,” Rindou repeated, his tone remaining unchanged.

They reach the main door. Shion stopped there, hesitating like he was waiting for dismissal, or maybe permission.

Rindou noticed. He could walk away. It would be easier. Cleaner. That’s how he handles most people—useful, then distant.

“You heading out?” Rindou asked.

Shion blinked, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh. Yeah. Figured I’d grab food or something. Maybe.”

Rindou nodded. “Careful out there.” The words slipped out before he could stop them.

Shion grinned, his relief immediate and unguarded. “Heh. Don’t worry, kohai. I’ll survive.”

Rindou exhaled quietly through his nose. “Good.”

They parted company there. Shion headed out the door, still muttering to himself under his breath. Rindou watched him go for half a second.

Ran appeared at his side like he’d been there the whole time.

“That was new,” Ran said lightly, almost teasing.

Rindou looked away. “What.”

“Senpai. Kohai.”

Rindou answered with a simple shrug.

Ran studied him, then smiled, not teasingly this time. This time was quieter. “You keeping him?” he asked, as if talking about a stray animal.

Rindou thought of Shion’s constant noise. His predictability. The way he fills space around him.

He thought of doors that never opened, and the relief of not waiting beside them anymore.

“He’s fine,” Rindou replied.

Ran chuckled softly. “High praise, coming from you.”

They left together. Shion glanced back, but Rindou did not. He made sure of it.

[artcafecito]

Your biggest fan! Haitani's x Sanzu

[as3artistasdodj]

Oioii, faz tempo que eu não posto nada, perdão, rotina muito corrida, mas aí vai três desenhos q eu fiz nesse mês que eu gostei bastante ~ 🍡🇰🇷

Interajam e comentem!!! ~ 🍡🇺🇸

[maitanii]

3:00 AM | RAN HAITANI

CONVERSATIONS IN BED were always like this, quiet and soft, though Rindou still hadn't been back since he'd left for the night and you two had nobody to bother. Habits. Two fingers traced figures and drawings indecipherable for you on your back. The only light that entered the room were the weak rays emitted by the moon. But Ran didn't need light to know where the three moles that decorated your skin and the funny scar that marked your shoulder were located.

“Did you know that years ago I wanted to have blue hair?”

The laugh that your boyfriend released resounded in your hair, where he rested his head and left soft kisses from time to time. As the laughter subsided, his voice echoed through the room.

"Are you kidding me?"

You thought about your teen years. About  the fights with your parents because you wanted to make a couple of decisions that you later found out were stupid. About the fall down the stairs when you were wearing those heels that you still hadn't gotten used to wearing. About that boy your friends warned you not to get too close to.

“No.I wanted to have a different image than the one I had back then.”

Leaning up on your elbows, you looked at Ran from your new position. Wisps of hair scattered across the pillow and fell down his tattooed chest like a waterfall. Aphrodite had favorites.

The boy closed his eyes and began to caress your arm. He thought of his adolescence. About Tenjiku. About Rindou crying the first time he saw him almost bald in juvie. About his mother kicking him out of the house with tears running down her pale cheeks. Ran unconsciously pouted when he was about to say something important. You squeezed his cheeks between your fingers.

“What is my dear Rapunzel thinking?”

“My hair”

At his words, you caressed a lock of hair that ran through the groove of the tattoo that decorated his skin.

“I think you would be gorgeous with short hair”

Sometimes Ran felt like he was like Samson. Perhaps if his hair was cut again it would lose its strength. It was the characteristic that made him stand out, his strong point. He had vague memories of sitting on his mother's lap for her to comb his hair, which was beginning to grow longer. His father wasn't too excited to have a son with such long hair, but his mother always told him when they were alone to take care of his hair.

Ran raised the corners of his lips as he watched your disheveled hair fall over your forehead. Bringing a hand to your cheek, he began to pick up strands and tuck them behind your ear.

"Do you really think short hair would look good on me?

Complimenting Ran was a double-edged knife, because he would always repeat your words half an hour later. But there was something in his eyes that told you he needed to hear something like this coming from you.

"Oh Ran" Sitting on the bed, you pointed at him with your hands. "You could be bald, you could have a thousand gray hairs, you could have a thousand split ends, and still you would be the most beautiful person in the world.

A laugh escaped his throat again making his Adam's apple disappear every time he made a sound. You smiled.

"Then it’s worthless to talk about this anymore" Rising up to stand beside you, he stroked the knuckles of your hand one by one "I’m going to get my phone really quick, I want to do something"

3 WEEKS LATER, and just one day after his 25th birthday, Ran Haitani walked out of the hair salon holding a plastic bag, feeling a cold breeze on his neck and having  a new haircut. He had to send Rindou a photo, but that could wait.

When he closed the car door after getting in, he put the bag on the passenger seat and began to dial your number on his phone.

He couldn't wait to see which surprise you'd like best; his new haircut, or the blue dye he had bought at the salon.

[mikeys-bike-slut]

they're *so* stunning ❤️👹

[bluerskiees]

Rindo: “Why is that person glaring at you?”

Ran: “Oh, they accused me of being a creep for standing here for more than five minutes, and I may or may not have agreed and claimed I was here specifically to kidnap you. They didn’t know how to respond, so they’ve just been scowling at me from a distance ever since.”

Rindo: “........Shall we make an overly dramatic exit?”

Ran: “Nothing would please me more.”

[simpywhore]

Tokyo Revengers incorrect quotes: (The Haitani bros)

*While planning to break in somewhere* Ran: Hey, let's do "Get Help!" Rindou: What? Ran: "Get Help." Rindou: No. Ran: C'mon, you love it! Rindou: I hate it. Ran: It's great! It works every time! Rindou: It's humiliating. Ran: Do you have a better plan? Rindou: No. Ran: We're doing it! Rindou: We are not doing "Get Help!" *A Minute Later* Ran, carrying Rindou: Get help! Please! They're dying! Help Them! *throws Rindou at guards, knocking them out* Ran: Ahh, classic! Rindou: *gets up* I still hate it. It's humiliating. Ran, laughing: Not for me, it's not.