#yasuhiro mutou

[zeroceroxdd]

Tokyo Revengers Episode 20 Gifs

[rokuudaime]

Tokyo Revengers 2nd ED 【 Nakimushi☔︎ 「Tokyo Wonder」】

TVアニメ『東京リベンジャーズ』第2クール ノンクレジットED【泣き虫☔︎「トーキョーワンダー。」】

[sweetcathedral]

For the Both of Us

Note: Had to wait for a long while until my writing portfolio got accepted before posting it here (I didn’t want administrations to think I was plagiarizing or stumbling across this blog😅). This story was an original inspired by Sanzu, since the symbolism goes hand-in-hand with his background story. So, here’s the fanfic version.

Pairing: Sanzu (Bonten) x Reader/OC

⚠️: SFW, angst (?), physical touch

He raises a muffled gun from his holster, pointing it to us. Yasuhiro’s? I bring Azura closer towards me, but before I can step in front of her, we’re facing the sky—falling from the bridge with her arms wrapped around me.

I look up to see her languid face, eyes distant from the present, mindlessly taking measured bites between her lips. She was wearing the burgundy lipstick I bought for her on his anniversary, giving me some sort of relief that maybe there’s hope for forgiveness, and that grudges could heal over time.

I look up to see her languid face, eyes distant from the present, mindlessly taking measured bites between her lips. She was wearing the burgundy lipstick I bought for her on his anniversary, giving me some sort of relief that maybe there’s hope for forgiveness, and that grudges could heal over time.

I look up to see her languid face, eyes distant from the present, mindlessly taking measured bites between her lips. She was wearing the burgundy lipstick I bought for her on his anniversary, giving me some sort of relief that maybe there’s hope for forgiveness, and that grudges could heal over time.

“That shade of lipstick suits you. Do you like it?” My voice sounded louder than I thought it would, amplified by the heavy silence.

Her movements slow into a pause and she clears her throat. “I do, I didn’t think you’d have an eye for something like this.”

It was clear that her words were calculated. Her eyes didn’t meet mine and her expression hadn’t changed. It infuriated me, but I held my tongue, only letting out a small sigh as we continue to eat our dinner in silence.

There was no point in trying to push a conversation onto someone who was still uncomfortable with being around me. Maybe I was hoping for too much when I came to realise that I’ve been falling for her the more I watched over her. Was it wrong of me to keep her so close to my side, even after killing the love of her life? She has to know that it was me who killed Yasuhiro. The evidence was deliberately there, she wasn’t stupid, or was she okay with it?

Dinner had ended in mutual, but understanding, silence. She washes the dishes and puts them on the rack, as I wipe them dry beside her and place them back in the cabinets and shelves. For a brief moment, I took a glance at her, watching her wipe the counter clean after she was done with the dishes, and I felt the urge to hug her from behind. Yet, all I could find the courage to do was lean over her, grabbing the last of the dishes from behind her, afraid that the weight of me would be enough to equate the weight of what I’ve done and break her. She stood there, neither moving away or paying attention to the slight touch of me.

Evening continued, and I took the first shower, grateful for the only form of comfort there was left in my own home. Years had gone by since Azura had started living with me. I can’t even remember why I had proposed the idea, but the longer she stayed with me the more I began to regret murdering Yasuhiro—and the more I began questioning my loyalty towards Manjiro. I’d die for Manjiro, but I didn’t feel that sense of loyalty towards Azura.

As I lingered on my inability to differentiate and define what I’m feeling, rather than denying it, Azura had opened the door, standing there with only a small towel draped over her body. She drops her towel, revealing her familiar figure I’ve known all too well, and walks towards me. I don’t move, just watched her as I kept the shower running over my head with my hands pressed to the wall. I turned my gaze back down to my feet once I caught myself staring for too long.

“I was almost do—”

Her arms snaked over my torso from behind and I can feel her press up against my back. For the first time, there was something reassuring from her.

“Azura,” I grabbed hold of her hand, tangling my fingers between hers. “I’m—”

“Sanzu,” she cut me off. “You don’t need to explain yourself, I know.”

She knows, what? That I regret it, that I’m sorry, felt guilty towards her, pity—that she may be growing on me and I don’t mind it?

Water runs down both of our heads, soaking our bodies, before I suggested taking a bath together. I sit in the tub first, having her sit between my legs and lean against my chest. She felt warm and welcoming as she melted into my arms. Something that would’ve never crossed my mind when I first took her in. Sharp and bold is what she is, always a step ahead of the rest of us even when she had no relation to what we were involved with. It’s how Manjiro deemed her useful. Kept her close, despite her dull expressions and empty eyes.

I feel her shift around, adjusting to a more comfortable position, then she turns her head around to look up at me. There was comfort in our silence, only letting our actions speak for themselves. Maybe because we were too scared that we’d reveal more of ourselves to each other than we’d like to, if we talked. All of our secrets would spill out and I’d already hurt her enough to let her go through that all over again.

She turns to me and opens her mouth like she was about to say something, but presses her lips together, lowering her gaze to my lips. The anticipation lingers before she hesitates and slowly turns back to lean against my chest, but this time she shrinks into her shoulders. It was cute of her, but it only stirred my emotions into a sense of longing.

I couldn’t help, but glance down at her shoulders, suppressing my temptation to place my lips where her collar bone ends. Mindlessly, I brush her hair over her nape, revealing the bare skin on her back. The insignia branded on her spine right between the ends of her shoulder blades, reminding me of the pain I subjected her to the day Manjiro approved of her. If I hadn’t been the one to brand her, would they have been harsher? The rest of us had tattoos, so why did she have to be branded?

She didn’t jerk away from my touch, nor did she tense up, her body became more relaxed, the rest of her weight leaning into me. I took my time admiring every inch of her, wishing that the earth could stop rotating for just one moment to have her all to myself. Unshackled to the responsibilities of traitors for a brief moment.

I press my lips to her shoulders, moving up along her neck as she took deeper breaths at the touch of my lips. Her back arches as I sink my teeth into the curve of her neck, I could feel her fingers grab hold of my head, pulling me into her. The water was getting warmer and she was showing no sign of refusal.

My fingers trace up her inner thigh, growing more and more greedy for her reactions; her small gasps, the rise and fall of her chest, the tension of her muscles melting. I tilt her chin up, bringing her lips to mine, remembering the last time I kissed her. I don’t think I can remember the last time I’ve been gentle or patient with her. Was I ever?

Our lips linger onto each other’s before she slowly pulls apart from me, dipping into my consciousness to bring me back to the present. I couldn’t bring up the courage to take it further, afraid that I wouldn’t be able to mend another irreparable wound.

“Sanzu?”

I open my eyes to meet hers.

“Why’d you stop?”

A direct question that caught me off guard. I knew she was a straightforward woman, but only when it came to business-like situations. Never intimate.

I cradle her face in my hand, brushing a thumb over her cheekbone.

“We’re both tired today. We should head to bed soon, yeah?”

She closes her eyes, nodding in my palm. “Okay.”

What else could I do except for holding her in my arms? Our relationship was born out of chances and coincidences, not out of will. I just wanted her to feel at peace, regardless of what it’d do to me.

We eventually got out of the tub, drying both of us off. I apply her nightly skincare to her face, moulding her cheeks into exaggerated expressions to catch a glimpse of her smiling and laughing. Not caring on whether it was fake or real.

When we slipped into bed, I took her in my arms, combing her hair between my fingers.

“Hey, Sanzu?”

She cranes her head up.

“Yeah?”

“Let’s go to the festival this weekend?”

I pulled away from her, unsure of whether she proposed the idea or not. It was the first time she ever suggested going on a date.

“Are you sure?” Was all I could say.

“Of course. Why not?”

“Okay, I’ll free up that day for you then.” I take her back in my arms, cradling her to my chest and pressing a kiss to her head.

Maybe time does heal people.

Time passed and Azura’s fingers were finally tangled between mine. It was a busy night, but not as crowded as I expected it to be. The festival was decorated around the shrine Yasuhiro and I grew up around; the temple we lived in was just behind the shallow patch of forest that stood firmly between them. Food stalls of different cultures and fusions are arranged along both sides of the manmade streets. Signs and arrows guide people’s curiosity around to discover and explore what the festival had to offer, without getting lost.

“Oh, banh mi tacos. We should try those,” she beamed at the sight of people crowding around a stall, pulling me along by my arm.

This time she was the one leading the day. Everything felt like a dream and I was light on my feet, seeing every possible side that exists within her. And for a moment, I felt at peace. Unshackled by the sins I’ve committed to become the person I am now.

I didn’t think happiness could look this beautiful on Azura. Around me she always had a melancholic expression that was unreadable, avoiding my eyes through menial distractions. I was afraid that she saw remnants of Yasuhiro in me, reminding her of what she wasn’t supposed to see that night.

Yasuhiro was my brother, and I loved him, but not after seeing him betray Manjiro. I wished he would have chosen someone else to kill my brother, maybe if it was Takeomi he wouldn’t have been sobbing as Yasuhiro bled away with a pitiful smile on his face. Take care. Takeomi was only our half brother, we didn’t grow close enough to consider our blood-relation yet. Knowing him, he would’ve killed Yasuhiro before he pulled the bullet on himself.

For that, I hated Yasuhiro. The moment he touched the barrel of the gun to his temple, he knew I wasn’t able to kill him in the end. All the determination and conviction I had in me to deal the final blow dissipated and I waivered, and he acknowledged that hesitation. At that moment, Yasuhiro softly smiled at me. Take care. A shot rang through the house and I dropped my blade, running to Yasuhiro’s side, holding him until the last drop of his life bled through my arms and he went cold and stiff. Azura stood at the doorway. I didn’t know how long she’d been standing there, but even when her legs gave in, she crawled to him. Come back. Come back, come back, come back, please, come back. Don’t leave. That night, I had accepted that I killed Yasuhiro.

A couple years went by before I was met with Azura again. It was raining on a sunny day, but she was skimming through her book, sitting outside of a balcony cafe. I was about to continue minding my own business, until Takeomi came out with two coffees in hand. I stood there, gawking. They looked close for two people that never acknowledged each other in the few times they met. But before I could turn around, our eyes met, and she stood from her seat. I ran. My legs sprinted, not knowing where I was going as long as I was far away from her, away from the living proof of my guilt.

“Sanzu!”

I stopped. Without meaning to, I ran towards my past after I’ve been running away from it for so long. We stood in the middle of the bridge that led to the temple that had adopted Yasuhiro and I—our home. Remains of my childhood were swallowed by the vines that grew around it. Now, I’m the only one left alive from the temple.

I didn’t find the courage to confront her, so I froze there, waiting. There was a tug on my shirt, before she placed her head against my back, out of breath. Come back, don’t leave.

Afterwards, we began living together. Keeping each other close as living memoirs of Yasuhiro, unable to let go, but trying to move on.

A part of me already knew that she had wanted revenge, and I’d give it to her. Every time I ate what she offered or whenever I felt the thin line pressed cold against the side of my neck when I slept, I’d accept my fate. But I’d wake up the next day with her by my side, sleeping soundlessly without a trace of intention. Why? I studied her from the way she talked, breathed, paced, blinked, touched, what she read, her favourite foods, what she took pictures of, the things she was attracted to, the museums she frequented, what she listened to. Yet, the more I saw her, the deeper I fell for her, like being sucked into a world that existed out of mine. I read what she read, memorised the notes written between the margins, learned to make her favourite foods, went to the museums, listened to the lyrics of her music; soon enough I realised why—all these things reminded her of Yasuhiro.

Again, I felt the cold chill of her blade against my neck. Except, this time, it wasn’t in bed.

“I’m not asleep yet.”

“So you knew.”

She silently came into my office as I was reading. I showed no sign of retaliating.

“Are you giving up?”

“Are you willing to die this easily?”

The blade presses further into my skin, but I don’t flinch.

“I was always curious to see what face you’d make when you’d finally get rid of me.” I slowly closed my book and placed it on my desk. “If I turn around, would you have that same conviction and determination I lacked that night?” I waited, begging for her to answer, but the weight of her hesitating silence said it all.

I pulled her towards me as I turned from my chair, knocking it to the ground. Her wrist twitched in my grip and she drops her blade, the same blade that I used against Yasuhiro. We’re facing each other now, without avoidance.

“People don’t cry when they’re about to end the life of another out of revenge.”

Tears trickled down her face and I loosen my grip on her wrist, melting away from me. “Then why did you cry that night?”

Because.

“Because I loved my brother too much to kill him with my own hands.” He was the only real family I had left growing up.

I gave her privacy in my office, leaving her to unfurl all she repressed into screams and sobs. But that didn’t mean we got better together.

“Shall we go?”

“Already?”

We’ve been here a couple hours, though time felt like it slipped away in minutes.

She led me through the forest, not saying where we were going, but heading back home to the temple was muscle memory. Cicadas and birds sang through the lush leaves, filling me with nostalgia and thrusting me back into the pool of memories before the division of the temple.

“Yasuhiro used to come here religiously on the weekends, but only during the night. He said that’s the only time the temple will give you permission to visit.”

It’s true. There used to be a stone pathway that guided people to the temple in the day, but it’s been more than enough time for the foliage to grow over it, sealing the temple away from civilization. During the night, it was a trail of fireflies that guided the way.

Remains of the temple and bridge quickly came into view and the familiar sound of flowing water perked my ears. The bridge still held strong by the barked vines, desperately clinging onto the shape of it, warping over the rotting wood and faded talismans.

“Even though I knew this was Yasuhiro’s favourite place, he never told me the full story that tied him here.” Azura runs her fingers delicately over the post of the bridge as we continue towards the temple.

“I wouldn’t say this was Yasuhiro’s favourite place, nor was it mine.” I inspect traces of our memories along the railing: the first talismans we made for protection. “The people who raised us is what made this temple home, but they’re no longer here anymore.”

“There was a betrayal that caused division amongst the monks, right?” Azura turns to me. “The way Yasuhiro talked about it in fragments sometimes was surreal, but it was enough to fill in the missing gaps.”

I nodded.

Inscripted onto the stone tablet that stood as a grave for the temple were the names of the lives lost that day. I brush off the debris. Yasuhiro Mutou. Sanzu Akashi Haruchiyo. I wonder how many more were able to survive like Yasuhiro and I. Would they still be alive even then?

Azura looked over the bridge. “I wonder how deep of a drop this is from the water.” Her gaze looked lost in the vast mist of the water.

“Azura?”

The way her eyes glazed over the water scared me, and I wanted to get her off the bridge. She blinks back to herself, smiling at me. “Come here.”

She puts her hand out to me and I take it in mine. A sense of relief washes over me. My hands are placed around her waist and hers around my neck, and she begins to hum. It took me a while before the sound formed into the familiar tune Yasuhiro used to sing. Mom used to sing it to us when we were little, but you were just a baby at the time.

We swayed together on the bridge. I closed my eyes, resting my chin atop her head. Time froze and I was at peace again.

“Sanzu!”

I flinched at my name and I’m brought back to the present. Takeomi was standing at the other side of the bridge, leaning against the post, panting. “Takeomi?”

He raises a muffled gun from his holster, pointing it to us. Yasuhiro’s? I bring Azura closer towards me, but before I can step in front of her, we’re facing the sky—falling from the bridge with her arms wrapped around me.

My dear Azura,

Do you remember what I was like when we first met? What you said? Your past is a part of you, but I don’t think it makes you any less of the person you are now. It was enough to lift me back on my feet. Because of you, I was able to enjoy life more than resent it. You encouraged my curiosity, filling me with knowledge I was insecure of holding because I believed I was too dense to even process it. Who says people get to stop learning once they turn into adults, is what you said. If only Sanzu were introduced to someone as welcoming as you, I wonder if he’d finally be able to move on too.

I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me for what I’m about to do. I’ve thought long and hard to find the right words that would give you the strength to move on once I’m gone, and I want you to know that you deserve to be loved again. You know how much I care for my little brother, but this time I’m going to save him like he saved me back at the temple. And if my decision is wrong and it changes him for the worse, instead of the better, I want you to give him the same chance you gave to me.

I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Forever and always, Yasuhiro

Takeomi,

A few days from now, Sanzu and I will be at the festival just outside the temple, but it’ll be the last place I visit before I disappear. You’d have just arrived back in the country, discovering Sanzu’s blade pinning a ripped passage from his journal to your coffee table. It’ll confuse you, but the dots will eventually connect and that your suspicions about me came true. How else was I supposed to leave?

After discovering Yasuhiro’s letter, I hated him for months on end for leaving me like that without a proper goodbye, and that the letter had originally been meant for you. It hurt knowing that his first thoughts before dying were not of me, yet that’s what I loved about him. So, I decided to help Sanzu, but under one condition—that my ability to love again is buried with Yasuhiro.

Sanzu had long since healed within the couple of years I moved in with him. I know I should’ve left by then, but something bounded me here. Soon enough, weeks become months and months become years. At first, I thought that Yasuhiro’s wish had finally come true—my second love—but I believe it was my ironic inability to move on from Yasuhiro. Every inch of Sanzu was a reflection of him, and every time I closed my eyes it was Yasuhiro that I felt. I didn’t realise that this was how much I missed him.

I couldn’t help myself from projecting Yasuhiro onto Sanzu, so I fought between my own conscious and selfish desires. I took advantage of every obvious chance he gave me to take his life, not out of revenge, but from being painfully reminded of what I lost and can never get back. Who knew that Sanzu was capable of looking this peaceful when he was asleep.

The night I had wanted to end it all with Sanzu's blade to his neck, was the night I realised I had lost. After that I began to love him, but from a distance.

So by the time you receive this letter, I’ll be gone—and you’d have saved Sanzu.

Whether I’m dead or alive, I don’t want you to look for me.

Take care, Azura

Several months have past, since Azura and I jumped over the bridge. The water continues to flow, unbothered by the life it took, but the bridge holds the smallest evidence of what transpired that night—the first talisman I had made as a child, torn from the gravity of our fall. I take in the autumn breeze and knelt down to tie the bouquet of roses over the talisman.

“They’re gonna fall if you tie it like that.” Takeomi walks over from the memorial tablet, a bouquet of lilies resting at the foot.

“Doesn’t matter, everything falls eventually.” I stand from the railings.

Takeomi sighs, running a hand through his hair and leans over the railings. We both gaze over the water running its course. Leaves blow over the waters from the trees aligning the cliffside of the temple, turning the water to a sea of warm hues.

Once I was discharged from the hospital, I spent everyday searching for Azura, scrambling for any evidence I could find of her being alive. Takeomi helped with the search, having his men dig up the geography of where the water flows and diving into the waters, studying the depth of it. A couple months went by, and a diver came back, finding a tunnel below the waters leading to the ocean, ten kilometres north from the temple—but it was humanly impossible to have survived the pressure of swimming through the tunnel to the ocean. We searched the ocean, coming up with nothing. Not even a trace of a body.

“Sanzu,” Takeomi places a hand on my shoulder. “She’s gone.”

I kept my eyes on the cliffside, neither blinking nor speaking, refusing to show any sign of acknowledgement because in the depths of my hope and desire for her, I knew that the inevitability of us being apart, alone, would eventually come.

“You know, I really did love her.” I took a rose bulb from the bouquet, unfurling the petals in my hands.

There was a hesitating pause, before Takeomi responded. “I know.” Barely a whisper.

“I just wished she would’ve stayed a bit longer to hear me say it to her.” The words came out itself before my mind could register what they meant. “I didn’t get to say ‘thank you' either.” I took a step back from the railing, stuffing both my hands back in my coat. The bouquet of roses hangs upside down as the cool breeze blows apart the anatomy of the flowers, showering the surface of the water with petals.

Before I could fully turn my back away and let go of all hope of her ever coming back, I took one last look over the water—searching, confirming my doubts—instead my lips were met with a single burgundy petal that lingered on my cupid’s bow. A part of me wanted to take the petal for myself, but that would be unfair to Azura, so I blew it away.

Takeomi lights a cigarette to his lips, chucking his lighter at me. “You ready?”

“Are you sure?”

He only stares back at me. It’s your decision.

I turn back to see the only pathway to my past hanging by the thin red strip of worn down wood. The red paint frays from the weight of passing time. I can’t go back after this. I look over at the stone tablet.

“Do you mind?”

“Take your time.” Takeomi waits at the entrance of the bridge as I walk back to the temple.

I explore inside, once again. Rays of sun beam in through the caved-in roof. Shadows of where the small jade statues once stood were stained onto the oak stands that used to hold them, lost to thievery or destruction. My memories vividly overlap every corner of the temple: the kitchen, where Yasuhiro and I used to sneak food out at midnight, trying not to get caught; the prayer room, subtle notes of the Himalayan incense cling to the walls where we used to practice sutras, precise enough to hide our nudging and bickering behind the monk’s back. A soft breeze whistles between the gaps of the temple walls, sounding like the gentle whispers and laughter of the shrine maidens that tended to the maintenance and hospitality of this home—the heart of our family. I make my way to the garden, the sight of the overgrown wisteria roots coiling at the edges of the pond. A thread of water traces over the bark of the wisteria leading to the pond, about to overflow. With enough time, nature will take its course and heal over the temple, leaving the wisteria and the stone tablet to remain. There can be no rebirth without destruction.

The warm feeling of the sun shining down envelops me as I walk out the shadows of the temple. Without looking back, the heavy weight on my shoulders lightens, and the tight feeling in my chest finally loosens giving me back the freedom to breathe.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be that quick,” Takeomi steps out of his car.

“There wasn’t much left anyways.”

“You sure about that?”

I turn to him with furrowed brows. Takeomi opens the trunk of his car, revealing a small jade statue of the inscribed stone tablet resting against a bonsai of the wisteria tree.

“How the hell…” I scoffed under my breath.

“I didn’t steal it. I found pieces of the statue on the black market and asked a friend to create a replica of the tablet.” The whole time Takeomi was talking, he was looking elsewhere other than me. Avoiding the chance of being seen through. “Anyways, hope it’s okay with you.”

I smile at the thought of Takeomi being caring. I looked up to thank him, but he had already retreated back to his car.

The weight of the lighter rests in my palms. I flick it open and peel off a talisman from the post, lighting it on fire and placing it to the bridge. It takes slightly longer for the wood to catch fire without gasoline, but the flames are just as big once it takes on a domino effect. Pieces of the bridge fall off before the whole thing collapses into the water.

Despite the painful emptiness of it all, this form of goodbye is for the best—for the both of us.

[jiimanga]

tokyo revengers || ken wakui volumes 17-19 cover art

[moshimowbray]

[zeroceroxdd]

Tokyo Revengers Episode 19 Gifs