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[Chapter 36]

You were still trailing behind Koko and Inupi, watching the two of them banter about what the fortune teller might say. Koko, of course, had the wildest fantasies—ranging from being a long-lost prince to the most influential finance man in all of Japan. The switch made zero sense. But surprisingly, Inupi actually agreed with the finance idea, saying that one at least sounded somewhat realistic.

"The Prince of Profit, huh?" Inupi murmured with a half-smile, voice dry but teasing.

Koko threw a hand on his hip and tilted his chin up, like he was already being carved into a golden statue and displayed in front of the Bank of Japan.

You blinked at the sight. Maybe this wasn’t just some weird joke. Maybe it wasn’t random at all. Gangs need money. For bikes, hideouts, uniforms, intimidation, connections… whatever shady logistics keep that world running. You weren’t exactly an expert in underground economics, but it didn’t seem far-fetched that someone knows how to handle finances. Hell, Koko might be the walking ATM of Black Dragon. Or worse—the one actually pulling strings behind the scenes, dealing in shady business with other gangs to keep the cash flowing. You don’t even know yet that Ran and Rindo are just two of many who made secret deals with Koko years ago. Honestly, you should expect this, but maybe you are just trying to ignore the fact that Rindo is a hoodlum—the one who rules over Roppongi with his older brother.

Koko made deals that never reached the surface. Deals you wouldn’t hear about until much later—when everything started to fall apart. But for now, all you could do was watch him strike another smug pose beside Inupi, confidently talking about his financial fortune.

If only you knew how much that crown actually weighed...If you knew how Koko became so fixated on money in the first place. It didn’t start because he was greedy. It started because he was desperate. If you knew it all began because of a girl he loved—a girl who burned alive in her own home, reduced to ash. If you knew that he only stepped into the world of gangs because he wanted enough money for her treatment...And that now, even after all this time—after Akane Inui, Seishu Inui’s older sister and the supposed love of his life, was gone—he was still obsessed with money. Still chasing what he never got the chance to give. Would you really blame Kokonoi Hajime for the way he is, if you knew all of that?

Meanwhile, Toman—despite its size and influence—still met in front of a shrine. Mikey never cared about money. He once told you that he wanted to build a new era for delinquents. Something meaningful. Something bigger than turf wars and cash. So yeah, it made sense. Toman didn’t need gold-plated headquarters. It needed people who believed in something.

But Taiju? Yeah, he definitely seems like the type who wanted both fear and wealth wrapped around his fists. You still remembered how one of the first things he said was about having money for uniforms—cold, practical, intimidating. And… if you weren’t misremembering, he also told Koko to make more money. Like it was Koko’s job. No way was Black Dragon funding soup kitchens or helping kids pay rent. No—whatever money Koko gathered, it definitely wasn't going anywhere kind.

Still, the image of him striking a prince pose while Inupi rolled his eyes made you smile faintly.

"I'm wondering what the fortune teller might say about you, Inupi" Koko mused aloud, his voice light, his tone mischievous, as he tilted his head toward the sunflower blond-haired boy, with that usual glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. Inupi didn’t even glance at him at first. He kept walking, his hands in the pockets of his jacket, the pale strands of his hair brushing against the sides of his face with every step

"Probably that I end up working at a bike shop," he deadpanned.

That made Koko laugh out loud—a short, sharp sound that turned a few heads in the crowd. “Yeah, I could see that. You’re practically a professional already,” he said. Then he pressed his hands together and moved them apart in an arc, like he was drawing a rainbow. “Just imagine: the infamous Inupi—pro mechanic by day, gang member by night.”

You saw the corner of Inupi’s mouth twitch upward. “It’d make sense," he shrugged. "Not quite as exciting as being a prince, though," he added, a teasing edge in his voice.

Koko smirked, unfazed. “A prince of the streets, obviously. Rich, powerful, extremely stylish.” He flipped a hand through his hair dramatically. “Also, extremely humble.”

Inupi rolled his eyes. “You mean extremely delusional.”

Koko gave a theatrical gasp, stepping back as if Inupi had physically struck him. “Excuse me?!”

You trailed a few steps behind them. Their rhythm was strangely comforting—the way they bantered back and forth, like they'd done this a hundred times before. It felt natural. Familiar. Even when they argued, there was something easy about it. You watched the way Inupi subtly shifted his shoulder to nudge Koko when he got too dramatic, how Koko nudged back with the same energy. Their arguments never had any real bite. And despite their differences—Koko's flair for dramatics and Inupi’s cool, no-nonsense vibe—they seemed to meet in the middle without even trying.

You found yourself smiling again, unnoticed. It was the kind of dynamic that made you feel warm inside, just being near it. Then, almost in sync, both of them turned around and looked at you. Koko tilted his head, and Inupi glanced over his shoulder with his usual calm expression—but there was something almost sheepish in both their faces. Like they’d just remembered you were there.

“Shit, sorry,” Koko said with a slight grin. “Did we forget you were with us?”

Inupi raised an eyebrow at him. “You were the one talking nonstop.”

“Well, you were listening,” Koko retorted, then turned back to you. “So? What do you think the fortune teller’s gonna say about you?”

You shrugged, a little caught off guard by the question. “I don’t know. Probably something generic. Like... I’ll have success if I work hard? That kind of thing, probably.”

Koko hummed, eyes narrowed playfully. “That sounds like you’re hoping for a good one.”

You hesitated for a beat before answering, “Well, obviously. It’d be nice to hear something good, even if it’s just a random lady pulling cards for fun.”

You didn’t say it outright, but there was something heavy in your chest—something unspoken. Life hadn’t exactly gone easy on you. And no, you weren’t looking for magic or fate to fix it all, but… a little kindness, even in the form of a silly fortune, wouldn’t hurt. The mood softened, and for a brief moment, neither Koko nor Inupi had a snarky comment ready.

Then you saw it—the tent.

It stood at the end of the path like something straight out of a movie: deep purple fabric stretched over tall poles, with heavy velvet curtains rippling gently in the breeze. Strange ornaments dangled from the top corners—shapes that resembled stars, crescent moons, and little glass orbs filled with glittering dust that sparkled under the late afternoon sunlight. It looked even more theatrical up close—deep purple velvet walls embroidered with gold thread, and strange trinkets hanging from the awnings: feathers, bones, beads, and what looked like real fox skulls, bleached white by the sun. A string of paper lanterns stretched across the entrance, flickering gently in the breeze. The scent of incense and burning herbs clung to the air, carried by the wind.

A wooden sign out front, written in large brushstrokes, read:

Fortune Telling — 2000 Yen Per Person (One fate per visit. No refunds. No complaints.)

“2000Yen?...Okay, but really,” Koko said suddenly, turning slightly so he was walking sideways now, facing both you and Inupi. “If she doesn’t say I’m destined to be disgustingly rich, I’m asking for a refund.”

“She doesn’t do refunds,” Inupi reminded him, nodding toward the sign ahead.

"..."

“But yeah, it looks more like a traveling carnival than an actual tent,” Inupi said, eyeing the glittery decorations with a half-suspicious glance.

Still, people were lined up in front of the tent, their chatter a soft hum of excitement. You could hear snippets of conversation as people stepped out of the tent—laughing, gossiping, sharing whatever vague prophecies they’d just been told. Things like “She said I’ll find love this summer!” and “Apparently I’m destined to move abroad?”

You joined the end of the line with the other two close beside you. Before long, more people queued behind your group, trapping you squarely between Koko and Inupi. The line was long, but it moved at a steady pace. It gave you time to take in the scene. The soft glow of paper lanterns above the street had just started to come alive as dusk crept in, bathing everything in a golden-orange hue.

“This place smells like incense and sugar,” Koko muttered, crinkling his nose. “I bet she has, like, a crystal ball and speaks in rhymes or something,” he added.

“She probably just reads whatever the cards say and makes something up,” Inupi replied calmly. “People eat that up if it sounds deep enough.”

Koko leaned slightly toward you, smirking. “Imagine she pulls the death card for me and says I’m doomed.”

“Wouldn’t be surprised,” Inupi said flatly.

You stifled a laugh. Their banter hadn’t lost momentum. But beneath it, you could feel it—that quiet curiosity all three of you shared. No one really believed in it, not seriously, but something about being told your future—even for fun—stirred something in everyone. Hope that maybe something good was coming.

Eventually, it was your group’s turn.

Inupi was the first to move, his hand brushing aside the heavy curtain hanging from the arched wooden frame. The fabric, thick with dust and perfumed with patchouli, gave a low rustle as it opened. A rush of incense-saturated air spilled out from within, clinging to your skin, your clothes, even the inside of your throat. You hesitated, half-choking on the floral-sweet musk, and caught Inupi’s fleeting wince—his nose wrinkled in distaste, mouth drawing into a thin line. Even Koko, for all his excitement, looked mildly bothered.

The room inside was dim and close, cloaked in a deep amber glow cast by flickering candles tucked into iron sconces along the walls. Shadows danced across faded tapestries that hung around the space like peeling wallpaper, stitched with strange celestial symbols you didn’t recognize. Beads of melted wax dotted the floor in tiny constellations. The only real furniture was a single round table draped in purple velvet, and three mismatched chairs—one for each of you.

Seated behind the table was a woman who looked like she’d been plucked from another time. Her shawl was layered, multicolored, beaded, draped like waves around her shoulders. Bangles clinked faintly as she moved, and her fingers were nearly lost under the weight of rings. Her face was worn with age—deep lines, papery skin—but her dark eyes were sharp, almost too alert.

She didn’t greet you. She didn’t smile. She didn’t speak.

Instead, she was shuffling her cards in slow, practiced motions. Her gaze never left them—until, without warning, it snapped up.

And landed directly on you.

The shift was immediate and chilling.

She froze. Her cards tumbled from her hands in a messy spill across the table, and her expression drained of all color. Her eyes widened in abject disbelief—then horror. Her entire posture changed, as if something had just struck her. The room felt colder suddenly. The low hum of voices from the line outside seemed to vanish. Even the candles seemed to flicker more violently, their flames bending toward her like drawn to her fear.

"You..." she whispered, barely audible. Her voice cracked like old wood. "You poor, cursed child..."

You blinked, stunned. Your heart stuttered in your chest, and beside you, Koko shifted awkwardly, his hand halfway to brushing back his bangs. Inupi tensed slightly, his arms crossed now, brows pinched in concern.

“Oh no… no, no,” the woman whispered again, and her hands began to shake. “I don’t want to see this. I don’t want to look at you.”

And then—she screamed.

The sound tore through the air like a siren—raw, guttural, full of terror. You flinched backward, chair legs screeching across the floor. Koko visibly jumped. Inupi, sharp-eyed and alert, looked seconds from stepping between you and the woman. She clutched her chest, gasping as if her own breath betrayed her. “I can’t—I won’t read your fate. I’m sorry, but I cannot see something so… so heavy.”

“I…” Your voice was hoarse, uncertain. “I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry?”

You had no idea why you were apologizing, but it slipped from you anyway. You could feel your stomach twist, a strange coldness crawling up your spine. You glanced toward Inupi and Koko, who were both watching you now. Not judging, not confused—just... quiet. Waiting.

“Maybe…” you said carefully, trying to steady your voice, “maybe you could still do their readings? They were looking forward to it.”

Koko clicked his tongue but didn’t argue. He leaned forward, brushing a loose lock of black hair behind his ear, and smirked at the fortune teller. “I better get my money’s worth, lady.”

Reluctantly, the woman nodded. She motioned toward the cards again, which Koko and Inupi now drew without comment. You sat in the middle, frozen between them, heart still hammering in your chest.

The woman placed Koko’s card down first and hovered her fingers above it.

“The King of Pentacles…” she murmured, eyes half-lidded. “You chase the gold with such hunger, you forget the warmth of the sun. Your eyes are too fixed on the coin in your hand… and when you finally look up, the thing you truly wanted will already be gone. Like water slipping through greedy fingers. Take care… riches rot when kept too long in the dark.”

Koko’s smirk faltered.

“…That’s it? I gave 2,000 yen for that?” he muttered under his breath, though he didn’t laugh. He leaned back, visibly unsettled. You didn’t blame him. That hadn’t sounded like vague entertainment—it sounded personal.

She turned to Inupi next.

“The Two of Swords,” she said softly. “You will come to a crossroads—two hearts laid bare before you, and only one path you may walk. Do not mistake the echo of the past for your future. The choice will not be easy… but it will define your joy, or your grief.”

Inupi blinked once, slow, but didn’t say anything. He simply nodded, jaw tightening slightly as he looked away.

You stood up last, eager to leave, but just as you turned to go—

Her hand shot out and grabbed your arm.

Her fingers wrapped around your wrist like a steel shackle. The weight of her grip wasn’t physical—it was emotional. Like something ancient, something knowing, had suddenly latched onto you. Her hand trembled. She looked into your eyes. And what you saw wasn’t just fear. It was grief.

“You…” she whispered, her voice raw, barely there. “You will lose yourself. Your soul… it’s already wandering. So much pain. So much betrayal. You’ll fall, deeper and deeper, until the darkness makes a home in you.”

You couldn’t breathe. Her voice cracked again, and tears welled in her eyes.

“I beg you… remember who you are. Even when everything burns. You must find your way back to the light. Before it swallows you whole.”

She leaned forward as if trying to look into your future—and broke.

“I pray,” she whispered one last time, voice shaking, “I pray you find your joy. You deserve joy. You deserve peace.”

You couldn’t answer. Couldn’t move. A part of you wanted to cry. Another part wanted to laugh in disbelief. And yet, you only managed a tiny, brittle smile. “…Okay.”

Outside the tent, the world seemed louder again. Normal. But something felt off. Like the shadows hadn’t left you at all.

You, Koko, and Inupi stood in silence for several seconds. The streetlight above flickered once.

“Well…” Inupi said finally, voice flat as a flicker of worry clouded his eyes and lingered on you. “Maybe this wasn’t the best idea after all.”

“I’m fine,” you murmured.

But you weren’t.

Inupi didn’t argue. He just nodded once, like he understood and didn’t want to push it.

Koko stared at the ground, then scoffed under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck like he was trying to shake off the tension. “First time a fortune teller ever said something bad about me,” he muttered. “Guess I’m cursed now. I shouldn’t have stood next to [Name].”

He said it with a crooked smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. You let out a small laugh, though it felt a little empty.

Maybe it was just entertainment...But that fortune teller hadn’t looked like she was acting. She was crying for you. Not because of you. And that… that was a little harder to shake. Neither of them said it aloud, but you could feel it pressing into the brief silence between the three of you: that scream hadn’t been for show. That fear hadn’t been fake. And what she’d seen in you—whatever it was—it wasn’t a carnival trick.

Koko stepped closer, shoulders slouching a little, his voice low. “She grabbed you like she knew something.”

“I don’t even believe in that stuff,” you mumbled, though your voice was barely above a whisper. “It’s just… a scam, right?”

Neither of them answered.

Inupi leaned against the metal railing beside the tent, glancing down at your arm—the one she had grabbed. You followed his gaze. Her grip had left faint red marks, fingers curled around your wrist like a ghost still clinging.

“She looked at you like she was already mourning you,” Inupi said quietly, his voice a little more hesitant this time as he crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes—clear, sharp, almost too observant—didn’t leave your face.

Koko let out a breath through his nose, his expression more somber than usual. “She made it sound like your life’s gonna be… ugh. Hell,” he said, his tone laced with discomfort, like the word tasted bad on his tongue. “I mean, even I felt something.”

You nodded slowly, your arms tightening across your torso as though trying to hold something inside—keep it from spilling out. “Some bad things already happened to me,” you murmured, eyes downcast, the words small and uncertain. “But… nothing like that. Not enough to make someone cry over me.”

The admission settled into the air like fog. You hadn’t even realized how much it hurt until you said it.

Your breath hitched as you looked away, hugging yourself tighter. Your fingertips were numb from the cool air, and now you could feel it—your shoulders quivering, your heartbeat a little too fast. You were trembling. Not visibly, not enough for a stranger to notice—but enough for them to see.

“Alright, [Name], everything is fine…” you whispered under your breath, voice shaking, a quiet mantra meant to pull you back to reality. “There’s no way… I won’t experience that much pain. Mikey said he’d be there for me… he said—”

Your voice cracked at the end, going hollow. And you didn’t notice the look that passed over both Inupi and Koko—didn’t notice the way Inupi took a step toward you, cautious but protective, quietly calling your name.

“[Name]?” he said, gentle.

Koko blinked, clearly unsettled. “Wait—what did you just say?” He tilted his head slightly, his tone sharpening. “Did you say Mikey? As in Mikey from Toman?”

You startled a little, finally snapping out of it. “O-oh—yeah. I mean—he’s my frien—” You froze. Too late. Koko and Inupi immediately exchanged a glance. But instead of questioning you, Inupi’s expression softened. He gave you a faint, reassuring smile. “You don’t have to be that guarded, you know,” he said. “Relax. We’re not gonna do anything to you.”

Then he added, with a slight downward quirk of his lips, “But yeah… it’s surprising. You really don’t look like someone who’d know him.”

Your brow creased. “What do you mean by that?”

“He means,” Koko cut in smoothly, “that it’s a little hard to picture a girl who looks like sunshine and rainbows being besties with the invincible Mikey."

You blinked. “Uh...thanks, Koko kun?” you said, unsure whether to be flattered or offended. “But yeah, we’re… close, actually.”

Koko leaned in with a teasing grin, nudging Inupi with his elbow. “Damn. Maybe we should deliver her to Taiju. She’s connected to Mikey—could use her as a bargaining chip.”

“U-Ugh...” you groaned instinctively, recoiling at the idea. But then you saw the grin pulling at Koko’s lips, the laugh rising from his chest. He was joking. Probably. Hopefully.

Koko chuckled, clearly pleased with your reaction. “Relax, I’m mostly kidding.”

“Mostly?” you repeated with a forced smile.

Inupi shook his head beside him, sighing, but his lips twitched upward. “You’re going to give her a complex, Koko.”

“Too late for that,” you muttered, but a small smile tugged at your mouth in spite of yourself.

You glanced back toward the fortune teller’s tent one last time, but the flap was closed now. Silent. As if none of it had ever happened.

What had she seen in you?

Whatever it was, it hadn’t been the full story.

Because you weren’t alone.

You have Mikey. And maybe—just maybe—you have other people, too. You weren’t drowning yet. You still had light. You still had people who would fight for you. No matter what those trembling, tarot-dusted hands had seen in that dim candlelight. No matter what ghosts of fate had clung to your skin. No matter how dark the road might get, or how heavy the silence that followed the fortune teller’s scream—

You weren’t going to let the shadows swallow you whole.

Not without a fight.

Even if—ironically—Mikey himself was the embodiment of that darkness.

Right?

—

[Author's note: Hey everyone! I honestly had a lot of fun writing this chapter—even though it leaned a bit on the darker side. I just really love the dynamic between Inupi, Koko, and Reader. Inupi being all calm and composed (but secretly soft), Koko being his usual smug, dramatic self , and our sweet, polite and innocent Reader stuck in the middle—it’s just such a fun mix. And let me tell you… Reader caught between the Haitani brothers? That’s going to be even better😏]

#tokyo revengers #female reader #fanfiction #tokyo rev #manjiro sano #inui seishu #kokonoi hajime