hi, do you write aus? can I request bonten!izana with a pregnant reader during an ultrasound?
A/N: hi babes, sorry for being inactive lately i've been sooooo busy plus i feel so unmotivated to write anything:< anyway this is one of the requests that is rotting in my inbox lol. i hope you enjoy it, anon!
“Little Heartbeats”
Bonten!Izana x pregnant!reader
“You’re nervous.”
You glance over at Izana, who’s slouched in the too-small chair beside the examination table. His usual suit jacket draped across the back of the chair. But his eyes — sharp and pale — are watching you like a hawk.
You exhale. “A little. First ultrasound, you know?”
His hand finds yours. “It’ll be fine.”
That’s Izana-speak for I’m nervous too but won’t admit it. He’s still got that edge to him — Bonten’s leader, blood on his hands, chaos in his bones — but when it comes to you, everything softens. His thumb brushes the back of your hand in slow, absent-minded circles.
The doctor walks in with a smile and greets you both, making small talk as she sets up the machine. “We’re going to do a quick check today. We’ll listen for the heartbeat.”
Izana’s grip tightens slightly, and he scoots his chair closer.
You lie back and pull your shirt up, exposing your belly. The gel is cold — you shiver — and Izana mutters something about needing to install better heating in this place, as if he owns the clinic.
Then the probe touches your skin.
Static at first. A low hum. Then—
ba-bump. ba-bump. ba-bump.
Your breath catches. The sound is faint but steady, like a tiny drum inside you.
Izana goes still.
“That’s your baby’s heartbeat,” the doctor says warmly.
You look over at him — and the expression on his face nearly makes you cry.
He’s wide-eyed. No smirk, no arrogance, no aloofness. Just… awe.
“That’s them?” he murmurs.
You nod. “That’s our baby.”
He swallows. Slowly. Then leans in, hand still clutching yours. “You’re sure they’re okay?”
“Perfectly healthy,” the doctor confirms.
Izana doesn’t say anything right away. Just stares at the screen, at the blurry shape nestled safely inside you.
And then, quietly — softer than you’ve ever heard him — he whispers:
“…I didn’t think I’d get this far.”
Your heart twists. You squeeze his fingers, and he finally looks at you.
“You did,” you say. “We did.”
He leans forward and kisses your knuckles. “Guess I’ve got a reason to stop dying for things.”
You smile. “Now you live for them instead.”
He lets out a breathy laugh, brushing a thumb along your belly like he can already protect the tiny life inside. The terrifying Bonten executive who once ruled with fear now looks at you like you hung the stars — and at the screen like it holds his future.
“You’re gonna be spoiled, you know that?” he murmurs to your stomach. “I’ll make sure of it.”
And for once, the king of destruction sounds like a man who finally found something he wants to protect.
ᥫ᭡ You were incredibly bored, and what could possibly amuse you? A prank! And on whom? Your dear boyfriend!
ᥫ᭡ So you sent him a message asking him to wait for you because you would visit him after his gang meeting; and although you received no reply from him but only a read, that was enough of an answer for you.
ᥫ᭡ You meticulously applied yourself to creating the fake hickey on your neck, taking care to make it as realistic as possible. Izana wasn't stupid; if you did it wrong, he'd notice!
ᥫ᭡ After you finished your preparation, you quickly left your apartment, walking through the streets with amusement — proud of your foolishness.
ᥫ᭡ After about ten minutes, you finally arrive in the abandoned area, recognizing the unique Tenjiku uniform.
ᥫ᭡ You weave your way through the gang members, earning respectful greetings from them; after all, you're their leader's partner!
ᥫ᭡ You ask one of them where Izana is and he points to one of the many containers. You head towards it, a small smile never leaving your lips, eager to see his reaction!
ᥫ᭡ You entered the container, noticing Izana talking with Kakucho. The dark-haired man turned towards you and smiled — before that same smile vanished immediately, replaced by a horrified look when he noticed Izana's expression.
ᥫ᭡ He glared at you, staring intently at the mark on your neck. Of course it wasn't him who made it; he would have remembered. And it would have been perfect, not like that disgusting thing on your neck.
"Kakucho, go see the Haitani brothers. I have a feeling they've messed up."
"What? But they’re with Kisaki—"
"Kakucho, get out of here." Izana smiled bitterly at the young man who simply nodded before leaving, giving you a look that was a mixture of pity and disgust. The poor boy had no idea that your immaturity would cause you so much trouble.
"Izana, how are you?" You asked with a wide smile, approaching your boyfriend. He didn't move and simply watched you walk towards him.
"What is this?"
"What are you talking about?" you asked, shrugging your shoulders.
Izana chuckled, moving closer to you, only inches away. He gently placed his hand on your neck, softly caressing the spot. And although he smiled, you knew that smile all too well; and it wasn't the one you liked to see.
"Hum…Izana…?"
"Who?"
"What?" You looked at him with incomprehension; he was far too calm…
"Who did this?" he asked, though it sounded more like an order he was waiting for you to answer, his violet eyes shining with an intensity that made you shiver.
"Hum…well..." You try to find your words, but Izana pressed a little harder and made you back up very gently, until you were pressed against the container.
"I said who."
Well, maybe it was time you stopped the joke before Izana kill someone.
You placed your hands against his chest, trying to push him back but only achieving the opposite effect. He moved closer until your noses touched, his hand now fully encompassing your neck.
"It was a joke! I'm kidding, Izana…nobody did anything…"
He watched you for a long time before wetting his thumb and placing it on your hickey, slightly smearing it away. At the sight, he chuckled again, this time heartily.
"Obviously. How could you dare to cheat on me, my queen/king?"
He grabbed the collar of your top and pulled it down, showing your collarbones as he approached.
"But let me show you how to really do it, and I forbid you to try to hide it."
꒰ ❤︎ Keisuke Baji ꒱
ᥫ᭡ You really wanted to try this prank that you had seen a few times and you had finally decided to do it.
ᥫ᭡ So you asked Keisuke to go buy you some yakisoba so you could enjoy eating them while watching a new series that had just come out. And of course, he agreed.
ᥫ᭡ During his absence, you took the time to put a fake hickey on your neck; although you didn't really have time to make it perfect, it was pretty good.
ᥫ᭡ You partially hid it so that Keisuke wouldn't see it in the blink of an eye and you went to the living room, waiting for his return.
ᥫ᭡ After a short while, you heard the doorbell of your apartment and you hurried to open it, letting in Keisuke who was holding a plastic bag in his hand.
ᥫ᭡ He placed the plastic bins on the coffee table and slumped down on the sofa, beckoning you to join him.
ᥫ᭡ So you joined him and sat down next to him, at a certain distance so that he wouldn't see it immediately.
"Do I stink or what? Come here!" He exclaimed, grabbing you quickly, pressing you forcefully against him, your back against his chest as he laid you down on top of him.
You giggled as you snuggled up to him, resting your arms against his, which were on your stomach.
You were watching the television intently, almost forgetting the stain on your skin. But Keisuke seemed to notice it, staring at you strangely for a few moments now.
"Where does it come from?"
"Huh?"
He immediately shifted your hoodie, clearly revealing your neck. He stared at it, before a slight smile appeared on his lips—then finally, he bursted into laughter under your surprised gaze. Was he amused?
"You didn't even do it right! Seriously, you could have made an effort!" he managed to say while laughing.
"What? That's not even true!" you replied, straightening up. Keisuke stopped laughing, displaying his usual smile; and showing his canines.
He put his arms behind his head, a glint of amusement shining in his brown eyes as he looked at you.
"Oh, you really thought you did it right? You're cute, come on, I'll show you how to do it."
꒰ ❤︎ Takashi Mitsuya ꒱
ᥫ᭡ You wanted to test your boyfriend's reaction; after all, he might have been the perfect man in her eyes, but you wanted to see how he would react in this situation.
ᥫ᭡ He had invited you to his house and you took care to make sure that his two little sisters were not at home before putting your plan into action.
ᥫ᭡ So you applied your makeup using your eyeshadow on your neck, creating a perfect hickey!
ᥫ᭡ You then headed towards Takashi's house, trying to imagine his reaction.
ᥫ᭡ When you arrived at his house, you knocked and he opened immediately, welcoming you with a smile.
"You were quick, they just left," he said, gently taking your jacket off, earning a small "thank you" from you. He hung your jacket on the coat rack while you waited.
"Well, you know, I had nothing to do today, so when you told me to come, I left home straight away."
"Oh, I see. I made some foods, do you want to eat?"
You gladly accepted and accompanied him into the kitchen where he served you a plate and himself, then you sat down at the table and began to chat quietly.
After finishing the meal, you offered to wash the dishes, and after several minutes of persuading him to let you do it, he gave in. So while you cleaned the plates, he washed the table.
But without you noticing, Takashi had finished, gently approaching you. That's when a purple spot caught his attention on your neck; he placed his finger on it, gently caressing the area.
You immediately jumped as he chuckled softly.
"Really?" he asked.
"Uh...you weren't supposed to realize it like that!" you replied, a little disappointed, you hadn't even had time to make him believe it was true!
Takashi smiled a little more before wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder.
"You wouldn't have fooled me, I know you too well." His violet eyes watched your face for a moment, then he buried his face in the crook of your neck, tickling you.
That's when you felt your skin being nibbled, making you tense immediately. Takashi laughed during the process, biting your skin a little more as it began to redden under his touch.
"You know, my love," he began, holding your skin between his teeth. "You didn't need to do that. I can do as much as you want."
kurokawa izana 110% has a mommy kink and I'll die on that hill.
he doesn't show it often, he might even be ashamed of it at first. he would never let it slip when he's on top of you, pounding into your tight cunt like an animal in heat, using you as his personal stress relief toy.
but every now and then, there are times when he wants nothing more but to lay down in bed and let you ruin him. ride him, suck him off, he'll even accept a handjob! anything that'll get him some relief. in those specific times, his mouth seems to have a mind of his own, whining and babbling things against his will.
you're on top of him, riding his cock like you need it to survive. your tits bouncing in his face, hands digging into his shoulders, pretty pussy clamping down on his sensitive length to deliciously, it's all just too much for him!!
"I-I'm close, m-mommy— fuck!" he whines, throwing his head back. you pause for a moment, freezing in place as you process his words. you feel like you should be weirded out, disgusted, even, but for some reason, it only turns you on even more!
"relax, zana, mommy's got you." you whisper into his ear, biting down gently before begging to move again, riding him faster and harder. he gasps, a string of whines and curses leaving his lips as he squeezes his eyes shut. izana knows he should feel embarrassed, ashamed, but he's too fucked out to care right now. his hands fly to your hips, gripping the soft skin for dear life as he bites back more whines.
"don't hold back, zana, I wanna hear you." you command, doubling down your efforts, making it impossible for him to stay quiet.
"mommy! f-fuck, mommy—" he whines, actually whines. he feels pathetic, but in the same time, he can't help but love the way you were fucking him!
"more, m-mommy, please more! i-I'm so close— please!" izana moans mindlessly, too overstimulated to even think about how he was moaning and begging like a whore. he forces his eyes open, only to be met with the sight of your perfect breasts bouncing in his face. he groans, leaning in to capture one of your peaks into his mouth, sucking hard.
you gasp, but your pace never falters, infact, his desperate suction only encourages you to speed up. the sounds of skin slapping against skin paired with both of your whines and moans fills the room and, before you know it, izana's orgasm crashes over him like a ton of bricks, shooting streaks of warm and sticky cum into your tight cunt.
after a few more seconds, you slow down your movements, cupping the white haired guy's cheeks gently, prying him off your tits and making him look up at you.
"see? I told you mommy will take care of you." you coo at him, leaning down to place a soft kiss against his lips before pulling away and grabbing his shoulders again, proceeding with your thrusts, chasing your own high.
izana's eyes widen, but he makes no effort to stop you, instead, he just lets you use him for your pleasure ><
a/n:: I'm not used to writing smut, so I'm not sure if this is good lol ㅠㅠ I hope you liked it though
syp: MDNI tokyo rev guys as submissive men— pt1, pt2 cw; semi public sex, cuck behavior ft shin, sex slave, lazy anal play (might be very ooc, pls don't come for me) all timeskip vers, enjoy beebs ᝰ.ᐟ
izana: hear me out—he's a brat. all that cocky energy fizzles out the second your hands are on him, tracing feather-light touches across his gloriously tanned skin. but don't think he won't push back, with biting words, just to rile you up so you have no choice except to put him in his place. you're at your wits end with this man; all day it's been nonstop, snarky quips all in that condescending tone as if you didn't leave him a trembling mess on your bed just that morning. horny bastard. so here you are; jerking izana off in a grimy dive bar bathroom, his knuckles gripping the sink for dear life. you shoved him in here after he flashed you that shit eating grin, like you were scared. that you wouldn't act. wrong. "not so tough now are ya?" you sneer, watching the way his knees buckle with every quick stroke of your wrist. "this is what you wanted, right? to be treated like the dirty slut you are..." like yeah, it's a bit mean n cruel yet izana's cock throbs in your hand at your words, already so close. sometimes you need to fuck the bratty attitude out of him, remind him who's in charge. your pace quickens, biting on his bottom lip to muffle his whimpers—until he's spilling his load onto the sticky, beer soaked floor.
wakasa: this man on the other hand, i'm sorry i gotta say it, cuck. he gets off on watching you fuck another man, in this case he's posted up in a chair by the bed as his best friend, shinichiro, pounds into you. from here he gets the perfect view, the bounce of your tits, your face screwed up in ecstasy—stroking his cock in sync with shin's sloppy thrusts into you. it wasn't by accident either, completely premeditated, dropping countless filthy tidbits of you guys' nightly activities to his pathetic virgin buddy. that lead to this moment. waka giving shin tips and advice on how to please you, "play with her clit- no, not like that. slower..." and "spit on her pussy, she likes that." until you're writhing, body coated in sweat. by some miracle no one has complained about the noise, the headboard slamming against the wall, filthy groans from both men and your sweet, high-pitched whines. his eyes stay trained on you, mentally capturing every moment; how your back arches, the creamy mess you're making on shin, down to the way your toes curl. like a chain reaction, all three of you cum one after another, first shin then you and lastly, waka. he regrets not setting up a camera, guess y'all will have to do this again sometime.
seishu: he is a prince in everyway, a doting gentleman, even going as far as running a bath for you after a long day, "welcome home, love." helping you slip out of your shoes, your clothes, each article dropping to the floor as sei plants kisses to every part of you his lips can reach. the only thing he cares about is your happiness, comfort, and pleasure—sure he likes cumming as much as the next guy, but witnessing you orgasm? ground breaking. earth shattering. he's in heaven. soon the two of you are tangled up in the tub, limbs splayed over and over each other's, steam rising into the air. it starts slow, a soft press of lips, smiling into his mouth and letting your hands wander. you touch him like it's the first time, mapping out his body, fingertips catching on the healed scars. eventually sliding lower, hearing the breath catch in his throat as you brush against taint, teasing his asshole. what better way to relieve the stress of the day than playing with your favorite toy. seishu never complains, just takes whatever you give him (with consent ofc). two fingers slide into his hole, he clenches as they drag against his g-spot, lashes fluttering. tonight you want to take care of him first, he'll repay the favor ten times over later.
kunaiiikittennn 𖹭 i feel like sei's is a lil all over the place ;—; please do not repost, copy or steal my trash ᝰ.ᐟ
omg i got another idea what if he bullies us like nerd and the bad boy thingy but with secretly dating!? (i mean bullying like teasing more than actual harm)
OKAY HERE YOU GOOO!!! this was one of four (wink wink)
𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 (𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐢 𝐝𝐨)
𝙞𝙯𝙖𝙣𝙖 𝙠𝙪𝙧𝙤𝙠𝙖𝙬𝙖 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙩
ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈
you coughed slightly as izana leaned forward in his chair, blowing the smoke from his cigarette right into your face with a cocky smirk. you waved a hand to dissipate the smoke, throwing him a questioning look since he had never really approached you at school and it was his idea to keep your relationship a secret in the first place so you certainly didn't expect this. his eyes had a teasing glint, the kind only you could pick up on, the kind that made your cheeks flush.
you lowered your gaze into your book, trying to hide your face from the haitani brothers and your boyfriends other 'friends' as they poked fun at you. the haitanis pointed out your red cheeks and shoved izana playfully as he remained perfectly still, eyes still fixed on you, smirk still stuck to his lips. your glasses slid down to the tip of your nose as they continued their teasing, izana's eyes still locked onto you even if you couldn't see them, you could feel them.
ran, mockingly: hey nerddd, if you like the boss just say so, who knows? he might give even you a chance!
they howl with laughter at the comment, izana letting out a low chuckle before leaning in suddenly, his finger pressing the bridge of your glasses as he dragged them back up your nose, watching as you stared in surprise at his gesture before flashing you his charming smile, your whole head feeling as if it were reaching boiling point now as izana's gaze continued to bore into yours. he knew exactly what he was doing to you and he was loving it, more so since you and him were the only ones who knew what all this was.
you were about to heave out a sigh of relief once break finally ended and the teacher strolled in, expecting izana to take his seat, not too surprised however when he stood up, hands sliding into his pants pockets as he towered over the poor guy in the seat beside yours who instantly understood the assignment, gathering his belongings into his arms and scurrying off leaving izana to plop into the seat beside you. you turned subtly as to not attract the attention of his friends who were still mocking you, giving izana a questioning look only to find that he's already staring at you. izana simply leaned forward, tilted his torso so that he was sat with his body facing sideways towards you before he rested his chin in his hands. he clearly had no intent to explain to you what he was trying to do, so your best bet was to just play along and hope that you don't end up upsetting him unintendedly, even if it is his fault for not being clear about what he wants from you.
the teacher droned on and you tried to ignore it but it was almost impossible now, his whole body was leaning forward, towards you. you could feel his gaze as it trailed all over your face, down your arms as you brushed your hair back, along your hand as you scribbled down whatever the teacher said. his gaze wasn't the only one you could feel though, ran haitani was right behind him, chair tilting dangerously backwards as he scrolled lazily through his phone occasionally sparing you a mocking glance while his brother rindou, sat right beside him, desks joint despite them being singular, since those brothers could never be apart. rindou was snickering and smirking mockingly as izana taunted you with his gaze, making you shuffle in your seat. then there was kakucho, who stared not just at you but also at izana. this guy was dangerous because he knew izana probably better than even you did, despite you being his girlfriend and the way he was looking between the two of you had you nervous; he was very likely to figure it out, and soon. especially if izana kept behaving this way.
you forced a nervous smile and kept your eyes glued to the words in your textbook, hoping the book might suck you in anytime now. you heard the teacher sigh and looked up in time to see him hurling the chalk from the blackboard towards izana. towards your boyfriend. you were really tempted to get up and tell the teacher it was inappropriate until you saw the way izana caught it without even looking away, flicking it back towards the teacher. oh, right. nevermind. now you were feeling bad for the poor teacher instead. kurokawa izana wasn't exactly the easiest student to have to teach.
you sighed slightly before peeking at izana. your face instantly burned as you watched his white strands flutter over his face, soft purple eyes, rimmed with gorgeously long snow lashes, burning with adoration in an unwavering gaze directed at you. his tie was loose, giving you a glimpse at his collarbone, sweat beads gliding down his neck, adams apple teasing you as it bopped up and down his throat as he tilted his head slightly, revealing more of his soft neck, a gentle smile still painting his lips. you could swear the sunlight from the window behind him was only there to grace his features and he suddenly looked like an angel. your glasses began to literally fog up from the heat in your cheeks, heart jumping up, down, left and right and you quickly looked away as his friends burst into laughter at your flustered expression.
you were honestly surprised you survived till lunchtime without passing out from heatstroke, despite it being the middle of winter. you heaved out a sigh as you lined up in the queue, physics book in hand as you tried to cram what you could before the next lesson, before the test. you smiled to yourself slightly as you remembered izana's sulking face after you swore not to kiss him until he got at least five questions correct since you had forced him to revise for this test the last time he came over to your house. you flinched, startled as an all too familiar arm threw itself round your shoulders, an all too familiar smell overwhelming your senses, your face red once more since it operated like a radar, a radar that detects izana kurokawa.
you tilted your face up to find him already inches away, flashing you that charming tease of a smile as he dragged you closer. you noticed the glares of the other students as izana and his whole friend group pushed into the line but one glare from shion was enough to silence their uncommunicated complaints.
izana: cuuuutie!~ wanna eat lunch with us?
you had to control your jaw otherwise it would have dropped down to the ground. he just nicknamed you so obviously but his friends were still smirking as if they thought it was a joke, everyone except kakucho who now looked suspicious. you would have pinched him if not for kakucho observing like an eagle, waiting for either one of you to slip up.
y/n: w-what...i-im good-
izana, fake sulking: ehhhhh? but i came all this way just to get youuu..
curse him and his fake pout. it made you all soft and guilty even though you knew he was joking and it was what ended up with you giving him as many kisses as he wanted that day, even though he only got one physics question correct.
y/n: t-that's not what i meant...i...i just...uhh..
izana: then you're sitting with us~
mochi howled out a laugh while pointing to your nervous face while the others just discussed where they should let you sit, between izana and ran? on the table in front of them while they all stare at you but the boldest was proposed by their king himself and it had you staring in shock.
izana: she's gonna sit on my lap, and feed me!~
this time you couldn't control your jaw and so it dropped and remained that way as izana guided you oh so gently through the cafeteria, fixing your tray between your stiff fingers before snapping his fingers at kakucho to collect his own lunch. the group gravitated toward the largest table in the hall, dragging you along with them and causing the few on it to grab their trays and flee. you watched as izana sat down, the others flanking him on all sides throwing their trays down roughly, mochi already tearing through the meat while ran picked at his peas in disgust before they all turned to stare at you expectantly, smirking teasingly. you shuffled your feet, unsure if izana really meant it or if he was joking so you shifted toward the seat nearest to him but gasped out loud as his hands rested on your waist, hoisting you towards his lap.
you had to slap a hand over your mouth in surprise as the boys howled with laughter, mimicking your gasp and blurting out cringe phrases that you never even uttered. izana simply pulled your legs to rest over his before leaning in, waiting for his first bite with his mouth open. you hesitated before reaching for his spoon, scooping up a small amount of rice and holding it uncertainly by his lips. he instantly took it, eyes glued to yours even as you glanced away, lips tinging pink. it was okay at first, izana eating silently from your delicate hands and the guys laughing occasionally until shion sighed loudly.
shion: oi boss, if you wanna fuck her we should just get to it no? this foreplay is gross as fuck especially with that ugly face of hers.
nobody laughed. nobody said a word. even shion shuffled uncomfortably, realising that what he said may have been too much, considering izana's gaze had moved away from you for the first time today, fixating on the pierced boy with a lethal air, the temperature suddenly dropping. you hadn't even noticed that you were now trembling until you felt izana's hand move to the small of your back, pressing you closer to him more insistently now.
izana, calmly: shion...should i cut off that tongue..?
they all let out a collective gasp and so did you. izana had turned back to you, gently pulling your glasses away from your face before pulling you against his lips. you hands instantly found his shirt, fingers hooking around the soft fabric as your eyes fluttered, cheeks setting ablaze. when he finally pulled back he smile at your cute blushing face, patting your head before turning to his boys with a glare so cold it could freeze hell over.
izana: hey you guys...this girl right here is mine and has been for about a month or so...so watch yourselves.
a series of shock, betrayal and confusion flashed through each of their expressions, except kakucho who suddenly burst out laughing before looking at izana with a smile.
kakucho: good for you boss...i'm really happy that you finally learned to love...thanks, y/n.
you waves your hands frantically since his response surprised you until the others broke into a fit of chuckles and smiles, shion slapping himself twice before slamming his head into the table by accident while trying to bow to you in apology, causing you to all burst into a fit of laughter.
you had always been worried about going public about dating izana, about dating one of the most dangerous gang leaders out there but this wasn't even bad. that warm fluffy feeling stuffed your heart and you couldn't help but reach for izana's hand, curling your fingers against his before resting your head against his.
izana, whispering: see? everyone adores you...well, at least i do.
-> You survived the orphanage by clinging to Izana’s hand. Years later, you try to let go, only to learn he never intended to let you fly in the first place.
NOTE: THIS RELATIONSHIP IS DEFINITELY TOXIC AND NOT AT ALL HEALTHY!!
Word Count: 6,079
All of your memories of him start in the exact same way. In the dark.
Thin blankets. Rusted bed frames. Kids breathing around you in uneven patterns; soft snores, muffled whimpers, the occasional creak of springs when someone turned over too hard.
You, Izana, and Kakucho shared the corner beds, pushed together so close they may as well have been one. Three spaces assigned, one shape formed.
You still remember the first night you ended up there.
You’d arrived late, after sunset. A new donation of unwanted things. The woman from child services had a tired look and a clipboard she clutched like it held her together. The head caretaker had smiled too wide and said there was “always room for one more.” They’d handed you a plastic bag with a toothbrush, a bar of soap, and a pair of socks that weren’t your size.
Then they’d led you to the sleeping room.
Rows of beds like teeth. Kids staring. Kids not caring.
You’d stood there, trying to look smaller than you already felt, while the caretaker pointed to an empty mattress near the door. “You’ll sleep there,” she said, and started to walk away.
“Wait.”
The voice had come from the corner. You turned.
A boy stood on one of the far beds, bare feet on a thin mattress, white hair sticking up at odd angles. His eyes were a color you didn’t have a word for yet, too sharp to be soft, too soft to be cruel. Next to him, another boy sat cross-legged, watching you with wide, dark eyes. That one you’d later know as Kakucho. The first one, you’d come to wish you’d never known at all.
But that night, he was just a boy looking at you like you mattered.
“Put them over here,” he said, chin lifting at the caretaker. “We have space.”
The woman frowned. “Izana, that’s not-”
“She’ll sleep with us,” he interrupted, as if it were already decided. “It’s warmer in the corner. You want her to get sick?”
The caretaker looked between you and him, like she was debating whether it was worth arguing with a child past her pay grade. Then she sighed.
“Fine. But you’re responsible for them.”
His mouth tugged into a small, satisfied smile. It wasn’t kind, exactly. But it was something. He hopped down, padded across the floor, and stopped right in front of you.
Up close, he was all sharp edges and stubbornness in an oversized t-shirt, little hands clenched at his sides like he was perpetually ready for a fight.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
You told him, voice barely above a whisper.
He repeated it back to you, like he was trying it on. Like he was deciding whether it fit on his tongue.
Then he nodded once, decisive.
“Okay. You can stay.”
As if he’d been the one signing your intake forms. As if he’d been the one given custody of you.
That was the first time you followed him to the corner and crawled into a bed that wasn’t supposed to be yours.
It wasn’t the last.
--------------------------------
It’s the storm you remember most vividly.
You must’ve been eight. Maybe nine. The summer heat had been heavy all day, air thick and buzzing, the sky bruised with clouds. By night, the world finally opened up and started to fall apart.
Rain. Loud. Relentless. Thunder that shook the thin window glass.
You curled into yourself, blanket over your head, hands over your ears. You weren’t scared, you told yourself. You were just… uncomfortable. Alert. Hyperaware of every crack of sound splitting the air.
Across from you, Kakucho sniffled, trying to muffle it in his pillow. Lightning flashed, briefly lighting up the room in skeletal silhouettes.
Izana didn’t hide.
He sat upright on the mattress, knees drawn up, eyes trained on the window like he was daring the sky to come closer. His silhouette was outlined in each burst of light, thin shoulders rigid, jaw set.
He noticed you shaking before you did. The mattress dipped. A warm hand tugged the blanket down from your face.
“Hey,” he whispered. “Look at me.”
You did.
His hair was a mess. His eyes were bright. He was a little boy trying very hard not to be one.
“You’re scared,” he said. It wasn’t an accusation. Just a fact.
“I’m not,” you lied.
He stared for a moment, and you realized, way back then, that he hated lies. Especially from you. Especially about this.
His pinky reached for yours, hooking around it. The grip was tighter than usual. So tight you almost winced.
“If you ever feel like you’re falling…” His voice softened, thin and serious in the dark. “…I’ll catch you.”
It sounded like a promise. Like safety. You didn’t know yet that it would grow into something else.
That catching could become holding. Holding could become gripping. Gripping could become never letting go.
Back then, the words felt like a blanket tucked up to your chin. Like a hand over your eyes, blocking out lightning.
You believed him. You still do.
--------------------------------
You were ten when a new girl arrived.
She had a lopsided ponytail and a chipped tooth, and she smiled at you in a way that made your chest ache with something unfamiliar. She offered you half her candy at recess and asked, so casually, if you wanted to play.
You’d said yes before you thought about it. Before you felt the weight of eyes on you from across the yard. You looked up.
Izana stood by the fence, Kakucho next to him, watching. Kakucho looked curious. Izana looked… wrong. Too still. Too intent.
Later that night, when the lights were out and you were folding your blanket at the foot of the bed, Izana spoke.
“You don’t need her.”
You blinked. “What?”
“The new girl,” he clarified, voice flat. “You don’t need her.”
“She’s just being nice,” you said, defensive without knowing why. “It’s not a big deal.”
He stared at you, lips pressed together.
“You have me,” he said finally. “And Kakucho.”
His tone was sharp in the middle, softer at the edges. Like it hurt him to say the next part.
“That’s enough.”
You frowned, irritation bubbling up.
“What if I want more?”
You’d meant more friends. More hands to hold at recess. More laughs that didn’t feel like they cost something.
But Izana went quiet in a way that made your skin prickle. His gaze slid away from you, toward Kakucho, sleeping soundly, oblivious.
The next day, the girl wouldn’t meet your eyes. You tried to wave, but she turned away. Her shoulders were tense. Her hands twisted in her shirt.
You felt Izana come to stand beside you, his presence a familiar weight at your side.
“See?” he said quietly. “You don’t need her.”
You never asked what he’d said. He never told you. You tried not to think about the way his hand brushed yours, fingers hovering just shy of a grip.
--------------------------------
Another night, Kakucho got sick.
It was bad, fever-hot skin, shaking hands, eyes glassy. The orphanage staff shrugged and said it was “probably a bug.” They gave him water and left him there.
You didn’t.
You stayed awake with him, switching out damp washcloths on his forehead, whispering made-up stories in a low voice so you wouldn’t get yelled at for talking after lights-out. You refilled his cup from the tap, guided it to his mouth when he was too weak.
Izana sat against the wall, feet up on the bedframe, watching.
When Kakucho finally stopped trembling and slid into a soft, even sleep, you let yourself sag a little.
“Finally,” you whispered, shoulders slumping.
The mattress dipped. Izana moved closer, folding himself beside you on the narrow bed. His head rested against your shoulder, his hair tickling your cheek.
“You’re always like this,” he said.
“Like what?” you breathed.
“Picking other people first.”
It should’ve sounded accusing. Maybe it did. But underneath, there was something else. Something raw, scared, needy.
“You’re both important to me,” you said automatically, covering his hand with yours. “You know that, right?”
His fingers curled around yours, nails digging into your palm just enough to sting.
“Then don’t make me choose,” he murmured.
You didn’t understand.
You laughed it off. Promised you never would. Told him that wasn’t how this worked, the three of you were a set, a package deal.
You didn’t realize until much later that Izana didn’t believe in things he couldn’t own.
--------------------------------
Years later, you’re not in a cramped orphanage bedroom anymore. You’re in Tenjiku’s HQ. Concrete walls. Low ceilings. The air thick with smoke and sweat and the metallic tang of blood.
You thought you’d left that smell behind when you left the home. Turned out, you didn’t.
You stand near the back wall, hands tucked into your jacket sleeves, watching Izana like you always have. Like you’re afraid if you look away, he’ll vanish. Or worse, transform into someone you don’t recognize.
You’re losing that fight anyway.
Today’s reason is stupid. Pointless. Some guy said something snide about Tenjiku in the wrong alley to the wrong person. Izana heard about it. Now the guy is on his knees in the middle of the room, hands tied behind his back, lip already split.
You tell yourself you’ve seen worse. You also tell yourself that doesn’t matter.
“I warned you,” Izana says, voice calm. Too calm. “You thought I was bluffing.”
The boy on the floor mutters something, too quiet for you to catch. You don’t need to. Whatever it is, it makes Izana’s head tilt in that way you recognize all too well. Curious. Detached.
Kisaki stands off to the side, glasses flashing as he smirks at the spectacle like it’s theater. Some of the other guys snicker. Others look away.
Kakucho doesn’t. He watches Izana. Then he glances at you. His brows pull together, the faintest shake of his head saying, Don’t.
But you’re already here. You always are.
Izana’s fist connects with the boy’s face with a sickening sound. Once. Twice. Three times. Methodical. Efficient. There’s no rage in it, no wildness. Just control.
That’s what makes your stomach twist.
He doesn’t stop when the boy slumps, barely conscious. Doesn’t stop when blood spatters his shoes. Doesn’t stop when Kakucho reaches out, hand closing around Izana’s wrist.
“Izana,” Kakucho says. “That’s enough.”
For a moment, everything tightens. Izana could yank away. Could swing on him instead. You’ve seen him turn on his own men for less.
But he doesn’t.
He just exhales, lets his arm fall back to his side, and looks down at the boy like he’s a stain that needs scrubbing.
Then, slowly, he turns his head.
And his eyes find you.
It’s always like this. No matter how many people are in the room, no matter how loud it gets, at the end of everything, his gaze goes looking for you like a compass.
You meet it. You wish you didn’t.
His eyes search your face, lingering on your mouth, your jaw, the way your fingers curl into your sleeves. You know what he’s looking for.
Approval. Permission. Redemption. Proof that he hasn’t gone too far.
You force your face into something neutral. Not recoiling, but not smiling either. You’re not sure what shows through.
Maybe it’s enough. Maybe it isn’t.
“Don’t look away,” he says softly, just for you.
The words hit you like a memory. Stormy-night whispers, pinky hooked around yours, don’t be scared.
But you are.
Not of him, you tell yourself. Not exactly. You’re scared of how much of him is still wrapped around your ribs like barbed wire. Scared of how deeply his voice lives in your bones. Scared of the way every part of you leans toward him automatically, the way plants grow toward light even when it burns.
You drop your gaze anyway.
Just for a second.
Just long enough.
Something in his expression flickers. Cracks.
He wipes the blood from his cheek with the back of his hand, slow and controlled, never breaking eye contact for long. But the damage is done. The quiet shatter inside your chest answers something in him.
You don’t say anything. You don’t have to. The space between you speaks for you.
--------------------------------
The toxic parts didn’t start with blood.
They started with calls.
Missed ones, at first. Your phone lighting up with Izana across the screen, over and over, until the vibration felt like it was rattling your teeth. You silenced it and told yourself you had a right to a night alone.
The next day, he’d shown up at your place.
You remember it with uncomfortable clarity.
You’d opened the door, and there he was, hands in his pockets, eyes flat.
“You didn’t answer,” he said.
“I was busy,” you tried. “I needed-”
“With who?” he cut in.
The question was simple. The silence after was loaded.
“With… no one,” you said.
He’d looked past you then, into the apartment. The bare walls. The single mug in the sink. The unmade bed. His gaze softened.
“You hate being alone,” he murmured.
It sounded like concern. It wasn’t.
“I’m allowed to be busy, Izana,” you’d said, little sparks of irritation lighting in your chest. “You don’t have to know where I am every second of the day.”
“I do,” he replied, without missing a beat.
You’d blinked.
He’d stepped closer, lifting a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture was gentle. The look in his eyes wasn’t.
“How else am I supposed to keep you safe?” he asked.
And the scary part was: Some part of you believed him.
--------------------------------
You don’t decide to leave him in a single moment.
It’s not as clean as that.
It’s a hundred little things piling up: the way he insists on walking you everywhere, even when you say you’re fine. The way you catch Tenjiku guys hovering at the ends of streets you frequent, pretending not to watch you. The way he says I love you like it’s the same thing as you’re mine.
It’s watching him hurt people and expecting you to smooth the blood back into his skin.
It’s looking at your reflection and not recognizing yourself.
It’s the way your stomach drops when your phone buzzes, because it might be him, and if you don’t answer, he’ll show up.
It’s realizing that the only time you feel relief is when he’s holding you so tight you can’t breathe.
You tell yourself you’ll talk to him. You’ll ask him to stop. To slow down. To listen.
But then Tenjiku burns brighter. Kisaki whispers in his ear. Plans get bigger. Violence gets louder.
And you get smaller.
The night before you leave him, you dream of the storm again.
But this time, when Izana hooks his pinky around yours and says I’ll catch you, his fingers squeeze tight enough to bruise. When you try to pull away, you realize there’s nowhere to go.
You wake up with your heart in your throat and the imprint of his touch throbbing in your palm.
The sun hasn’t risen yet.
You sit up, press your hand to your chest, and for the first time, you say it out loud in the quiet of your room, to no one but yourself:
“I don’t want this anymore.”
Your voice shakes. You’re not sure whether you mean Tenjiku, or the blood, or Izana. You’re not sure if you can separate them.
--------------------------------
You don’t go to Tenjiku with a plan.
You don’t rehearse what you’ll say. You don’t brace yourself. You don’t scribble words into a notebook or practice in a mirror. You just… walk there, feet moving on instinct, the way they always have.
The building is loud when you arrive, shouting echoing off the concrete, footsteps pounding up and down the hallway. But the moment you step inside, the noise shifts, muted, wary. Everyone looks at you.
His door is cracked open. His room is dim, lit only by a single bulb hanging crookedly from the ceiling. He sits on his mattress, elbows on his knees, hands clasped.
He doesn’t look up when you enter. He doesn’t need to. The air tightens around you, familiar and suffocating.
“Izana,” you say softly.
He lifts his head.
His expression is unreadable, but his eyes. God, his eyes, brighten in that quiet, unsettling way that has always made your chest ache. Not joy. Not relief.
Recognition.
“You came,” he murmurs.
You nod. “I need to talk to you.”
At that, a faint frown touches his mouth. His fingers still intertwined, knuckles pale from the pressure.
“About what?”
You sit across from him, keeping space between you that feels like a lie.
“Izana… I don’t recognize you anymore.”
For a moment, there’s no reaction.
Then his eyes lower. His fingers loosen. The frown smooths out into something unbearably soft.
“I figured this was coming,” he says quietly.
The calmness hurts more than anger would have.
He lifts his gaze again, and when he does, something inside you stutters. His expression is… gentle. Too gentle. The kind of softness that always follows a storm.
“You’re the only one who ever did,” he adds.
The words are a knife wrapped in silk.
You swallow. “Izana, I-”
“You’re leaving,” he finishes.
Your breath trembles. “I need space. Time. I need to think clearly. Without all of this.” You gesture around the room. “Without Tenjiku. Without the violence.”
His head tilts a fraction.
“So… without me.”
Silence wraps around you.
You don’t say yes. You don’t say no. You don’t have to.
He nods once. Slow. Controlled.
“I won’t stop you.”
You weren’t prepared for that.
“Izana-”
He lifts a hand, palm out, almost tender.
“I said I won’t stop you,” he repeats. “If you’ve decided you need to fall, I won’t catch you.”
His voice doesn’t rise. His posture doesn’t tense. But something in the air goes cold.
It takes everything in you not to cry. You stand because if you stay seated, you’ll fold. You turn toward the door.
Just before you step through it, he speaks again.
“When you come back…” His voice is faint, almost curious. “…try not to make me wait too long.”
Your heart drops. Because he believes that. Because he expects it. Because some part of you knows he’s right.
You leave anyway. He doesn’t follow.
--------------------------------
Your apartment is too quiet.
You close the door and the silence hits you like a hand to the chest. You stand there for a long time, staring at the floor, unable to force yourself to move.
Then you slide down the wall, knees pulled to your chest.
You tell yourself you did the right thing. You tell yourself you’re free. You tell yourself breathing shouldn’t feel like drowning.
Sleeping becomes impossible.
The first night, you close your eyes and see his face. Expression calm in the dim light, the faint crease in his brow when you told him you didn’t recognize him. His fingers intertwined tightly, like he was holding himself still for your sake.
You roll over, burying your face in the pillow.
“I don’t miss him,” you mumble to the empty room.
The lie tastes bitter.
The dreams start on the second night.
In one, you’re back in the storm-lit orphanage. Izana hooks his pinky around yours and says I’ll catch you, but this time his grip bruises.
In another, you find yourself walking through Tenjiku’s halls, following a faint trail of blood, only to realize it ends at your feet.
In the worst one, he doesn’t speak at all. He just stands across the room, looking at you with eyes so hollow and desperate you wake up gasping.
Every morning, you’re exhausted. Every night, you dread sleep.
Your body operates, but you don’t feel present in it. You stop cooking. You forget to eat. Your phone buzzes with messages from people you used to know; classmates, coworkers, neighbors, and you ignore them all.
You were raised in isolation. You know how to survive alone. But it never felt like this before.
Empty. Unmoored. Like the moment you walked out that door, someone cut a tether you didn’t know was holding you up.
You whisper into the dark one night, voice cracking:
“I guess I need you, Izana…”
You press your hand to your mouth immediately, horrified at yourself.
But the truth echoes anyway.
--------------------------------
The signs don’t come all at once.
First: a Tenjiku boy across the street, pretending to check his phone while glancing at your building.
Second: someone knocks on your door at 2 a.m. You freeze, listening. No voice, no footsteps. Just a single knock, specific and strangely familiar.
The next morning, a note is slipped under your door.
Be careful who walks behind you. -I
Your hands shake.
You crumple the paper into a fist and press it against your forehead, heart pounding.
You left him. You left.
So why does it feel like he’s still holding you by the wrist?
Kakucho appears on your doorstep three days later.
He knocks softly, almost apologetic. When you open the door, his face falls the second he sees you.
“You look awful,” he says gently.
You let out a shaky laugh. “Thanks.”
“I mean it. Come on.”
He walks inside without waiting for permission. He always used to ask. Another difference you can't ignore.
You sit together on the couch. He doesn’t speak at first. He just studies you, your hollow cheeks, tired eyes, the slight tremor in your hands.
“He shouldn’t have let you leave like that,” Kakucho says eventually.
“He did,” you whisper.
“That doesn’t make it right.”
A painful silence stretches.
“Has he… asked about me?” you ask, hating the way your voice breaks.
Kakucho sighs. Runs a hand through his hair.
“He’s not himself.”
You huff a shaky breath. “He hasn’t been himself in a long time.”
“That’s not what I mean.” Kakucho looks at you, expression tight. “He’s unraveling.”
Your stomach twists. “Because I left?”
“Because he doesn’t know what to do without you,” Kakucho says. “He doesn’t know how to exist without someone anchoring him.”
You swallow. “That’s not my job.”
“I know.” He leans forward. “But it’s how he thinks.”
You look down at your hands.
Kakucho continues, voice quieter:
“He’s been sending people to watch you.”
“I know,” you whisper.
He nods once, jaw tightening.
“What he feels for you- it’s not normal. It’s not healthy. But he believes it is.” Kakucho hesitates. “I’m not telling you to go back. I’m telling you to be careful. The more lost he feels, the more dangerous he gets.”
Your pulse stutters.
Kakucho reaches out, gently, placing a hand over yours.
“You’re not alone,” he says. “Even if he made you feel like you were.”
Your eyes burn.
For a moment, you lean into the warmth of his hand.
For a moment, you let yourself breathe.
But even then, even in that quiet, safe moment, you feel it.
A presence like a shadow at your back. A tether pulling faintly at your ribs.
A whisper you’ve been trying not to hear: You’ll go back.
All it needs is the right push.
And you don’t know yet that it’s coming. Not from Izana. Not from Kisaki.
But from a girl with blonde hair and a soft smile.
A girl whose death will shatter everything.
A girl named Emma.
--------------------------------
You don’t hear about Emma from Izana.
Of course you don’t.
You hear it from Kakucho. His voice shaking in a way you’ve never heard before, breath uneven, eyes blown wide with something between disbelief and devastation.
He knocks on your door without warning. Not the soft, guilt-laced knocking from before.
This time it’s frantic. Urgent. You jerk the door open, startled.
“Kakucho-?”
He grabs your shoulders. Not rough, but desperate.
“She’s dead.”
Your mind stutters. “What- who-?”
“Emma,” he rasps. “Emma Sano.”
You freeze.
Your hands go cold. The world narrows to a pinpoint.
Emma. Sweet, gentle Emma. Mikey’s sister.
You shake your head. “No. Kakucho, that-”
“She was attacked,” he cuts in. “She didn’t make it.”
Your breath catches painfully in your throat. You feel yourself sinking, vision wobbling. But Kakucho isn’t done.
“And there’s something else.”
“…what?”
He hesitates.
And that’s when the memory hits you- something Izana once said in passing, quiet and offhand:
“Emma and I… share blood. Same mother.”
A small confession. A rare moment of softness. A truth you’d tucked away without knowing how important it was.
Your stomach twists violently.
“Kakucho,” you whisper. “Emma is his sister.”
He closes his eyes, guilt tightening his features.
“He approved it,” Kakucho answers. “He said it was… necessary.”
Your knees buckle.
Kakucho catches you before you hit the floor.
Your voice cracks open inside your throat. “But she’s his sister.”
“I know.”
“He lost her too. He- he lost her too.”
“I know,” Kakucho repeats, pained. “But he doesn’t process family the way other people do. Not you. Not me. Not Mikey. Not Emma.”
Tears spill down your cheeks, silent and hot.
“He killed his own sister,” you whisper. “His own blood.”
“He didn’t see her that way,” Kakucho says softly. “Not like he sees you.”
The implication hits like a knife.
Izana chooses family in a way that’s warped and transactional. Conditional. Possessive.
Emma was expendable.
But you.
You are not.
And that realization chills you more than the grief.
--------------------------------
That night, you can’t breathe.
You pace your apartment, barefoot on cold tile, hands shaking. Every time you blink, you see Emma smiling, twirling her hair as she teased Mikey. You see her laugh. You see her hope.
Gone.
Because Izana let her die.
Your chest twists painfully, like something sharp is lodged between your lungs.
How could he?
How could he?
How could he?
The boy who held your hand during storms. The boy who whispered that he’d catch you if you fell. The boy who once spoke of Emma with softness, reluctant, but present.
He let someone murder her.
You slump onto your bed, gripping the edge so hard your knuckles go white.
He broke something inside his own bloodline, and he didn’t even flinch.
A sob tears out of your chest, muffled against your sleeve.
You want to hate him. But you miss him.
You want to scream. But you want to hear his voice.
You bury your face in your pillow.
“Why can’t I stop wanting you?” Your voice cracks. “Why can’t I stop needing you?”
Your phone buzzes. You flinch. An unknown number.
Come to me.
Then another.
We need to talk. —I
Your stomach twists, a sickening drop.
Because now you know exactly what kind of man he is.
And yet… You’re already getting dressed.
--------------------------------
Tenjiku HQ is silent when you walk inside.
Not tense, silent. Like the whole building is holding its breath.
You step into his doorway.
Izana sits on his bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor.
His hair is messy. His hands tremble, subtle, but you know the signs.
He senses you before he sees you. He lifts his head slowly.
His eyes lock onto yours, and something fragile passes through them, a flicker of pain so quick you almost doubt it.
“You came,” he murmurs.
Your voice shakes. “What did you do?”
His expression doesn’t change.
“About what?”
“Emma,” you whisper. “Izana- she was your sister.”
A beat.
He inhales softly.
“Yes.”
A simple confirmation. Detached. Cold in its quiet acceptance.
“And you let Kisaki do it?” Your voice breaks. “She was your family.”
He stands. Slowly. Deliberately.
“My family,” he says, stepping closer, “is complicated.”
“She didn’t deserve that!”
“She was in the way.”
Of what? You don’t even get the question out.
He continues:
“Mikey keeps taking everything from me. Every legacy. Every connection. Every blood tie that should have been mine.”
“That doesn’t justify-”
“She was his weak point,” Izana says plainly. “So I removed it.”
A sound escapes you. Small, strangled, halfway between a sob and a gasp.
He reaches you in two steps. His hand cups your jaw.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“Izana… she was your blood too.”
“And she meant nothing to me,” he says, voice soft, too soft. “Not in the way you do.”
Your blood runs cold.
He strokes your cheek, thumb brushing away a tear before it can fall.
“She never belonged to me,” he murmurs. “Not the way you do.”
You jerk back slightly, but he follows your movement, closing the distance with a precision that feels predatory.
“Izana-”
His forehead presses to yours.
“You’re trembling.”
“Because I’m scared,” you whisper.
A small, haunting smile touches his lips.
“You’re scared of losing me,” he decides.
Your breath stutters.
“No,” you breathe. “I’m scared of you.”
His smile doesn’t fade. He likes that answer. He likes it too much.
His hand slides to the back of your neck, fingers cold against your skin.
“You came back,” he whispers. “Even after everything. Even after you learned what I did.”
“T-that doesn’t mean-”
“It means you belong with me,” he says. “It means you always have.”
Your heart slams against your ribs.
“This isn’t love.”
“It’s the only kind I know,” he murmurs, voice trembling with emotion he barely contains.
That softness.
that trembling.
that breaking-at-the-edges desperation.
It ruins you. It pulls you closer. He holds you like something precious and doomed.
“I can lose Emma,” he whispers. “I can lose Mikey.” His grip tightens until you gasp. “But I can’t lose you.”
And the terrifying part? Your fingers curl into his shirt.
And you let him hold you.
--------------------------------
You don’t know how long Izana holds you.
Minutes. Hours. A lifetime compressed into the shape of two bodies pressed together in a room that suddenly feels too small to breathe in.
His forehead stays against yours. His hands stay on your neck and waist. His breath stays uneven.
You should pull away. You should run.
Instead, you freeze. Not because you want to-
but because you’re afraid that if you move, something inside him might snap. And worse, you’re afraid of how much you want to stay.
Izana pulls back just enough to see your face. His eyes search you with devastating intensity, as if memorizing every tremor, every pore, every sign that you’re really here.
“Don’t leave,” he whispers.
You swallow. Your throat is raw.
“Izana, I didn’t say-”
“You didn’t have to.”
His fingers tighten at the back of your neck, not painful, but final.
“You came back,” he repeats. “That’s what matters.”
You shake your head. “Izana, coming here doesn’t mean I’m staying. It doesn’t mean I-"
His expression softens in a way that turns your blood cold.
“Yes, it does.”
There’s no arrogance in the words. No anger. Just certainty.
Certainty built from childhood storms and shared beds and whispered promises in the dark.
Certainty built from you being the only person he ever let close enough to hurt him. Certainty built from the way you came back after everything.
“Izana…” Your voice cracks. “Emma was your sister.”
His jaw tenses, but the softness doesn’t leave his eyes.
“I know.”
“And you let her die.”
“I know.”
“Doesn’t that haunt you?”
His fingertips trace your cheek, featherlight.
“No,” he says. “But this does.”
His thumb rests just below your bottom lip.
“The idea of you walking away again.”
Your breath catches.
This is the moment you should run. This is the moment you should scream. This is the moment you should tell him the truth. You’re terrified of him, of yourself, of the gravity between you that feels less like love and more like drowning.
Instead, you whisper:
“You can’t keep me here.”
He leans in, lips grazing the shell of your ear.
“I don’t need to keep you,” he murmurs. “You stay on your own.”
A shiver runs through you. Because he’s right.
Some part of you is anchored to him. Has always been. No matter how violently you try to sever the thread, it knots itself back together the moment you see him.
That’s the part that scares you more than his violence.
Izana steps back, but only enough to cup your face fully in his hands. His eyes are burning now, bright in a way you haven’t seen since childhood.
“Promise me something.”
Your stomach knots.
“Izana-”
“Promise,” he insists softly, almost tenderly, “that you won’t leave again.”
Your heartbeat stutters.
You open your mouth.
But before you can speak-
the door flies open.
Kakucho.
He looks between you and Izana, and his face drains of color.
“(Y/N)… what are you doing?”
Izana’s expression shifts instantly, warmth draining, replaced by something cold and sharp.
“Kakucho,” he says, voice quiet. “Leave.”
“No.” Kakucho steps inside, shutting the door behind him. “Izana, she can’t stay here. Not like this.”
Izana turns fully toward him. And suddenly, the air in the room becomes dangerous.
“Be careful,” Izana says softly. “You’re close to overstepping.”
“I’m already overstepping,” Kakucho fires back. “Because someone has to. You’re scaring her.”
Izana’s eyes flick to you. You look away. That’s all it takes.
Something cracks in Izana’s expression, silent, small, lethal. He takes a step toward Kakucho.
“You think you get to decide what scares her?”
“I think someone has to protect her,” Kakucho says, voice steady despite his trembling hands. “Especially from you.”
Izana laughs.
It’s quiet. Empty. Unhinged around the edges.
“Protect her from me?” Izana repeats. “She came here on her own.”
Kakucho looks at you again, pleading.
“(Y/N)… tell him. Tell him you want to leave.”
You open your mouth. Izana’s hand finds your wrist.
Gently. But unmistakably.
You freeze.
Kakucho’s face breaks.
“Oh God,” he whispers. “He’s got you again.”
Izana’s grip tightens, not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you it’s there.
“She’s not a hostage,” Izana says calmly. “She’s here because she needs me.”
Kakucho steps closer.
“No. She needs help. She needs space. She needs someone who won’t use her fears to keep her close.”
Izana doesn’t even flinch.
“You don’t understand,” he says. “She can’t leave. She falls apart without me.”
Your pulse spikes.
Kakucho turns to you again.
“(Y/N), please. Say something. Tell him you want to go.”
Your mouth opens. Your throat closes.
Izana’s hand slides down your arm, intertwining your fingers with his.
Warm. Familiar. Final.
Your breath trembles.
And the truth. The horrible, pathetic truth is that your legs give out at the thought of walking away.
You hang your head.
“Kakucho,” you whisper. “I… I can’t.”
Not I don’t want to. Not I’m staying by choice. Just-
“I can’t.”
Kakucho’s eyes fill with something like mourning. Izana smiles.
It’s soft. Triumphant. Haunting.
He pulls you a half step closer, hand on your waist.
“See?” Izana murmurs. “She’s mine.”
Kakucho’s voice cracks.
“She’s scared of you.”
“I know,” Izana says. “But she still came back.”
He cups your cheek again, turning your face toward him, his gaze unbearably tender.
“You always come back.”
Your breath is shaky.
“And you’ll always fall,” he whispers. “I just need to be here to catch you.”
The words, once a childhood promise, now sound like a sentence. Kakucho backs toward the door, pain written across his face.
“I’ll try again,” he says quietly. “Even if you hate me for it.”
Izana doesn’t even look at him.
“You won’t succeed.”
Kakucho leaves. The door shuts.
Silence.
Izana exhales, relief washing over his features as he slips an arm fully around you, drawing you into his chest.
His heartbeat is steady.
Yours is not.
“You’re shaking,” he murmurs, kissing the top of your head. “It’s alright. You’re safe with me. You always have been.”
You close your eyes.
Because the truth feels like a tide pulling you under:
You are not safe. You are not free. You are not choosing him. You are remaining.
Izana rests his chin atop your head. His hand threads through your hair. His arms tighten. And your breath stutters in your throat. because you finally understand: You didn’t come back to him.
You returned to your cage. And he is smiling as he closes the door.
