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When he gets back home his room stays as he left it for a week. Childish and empty and bare and still looking like it belongs to a fucking nerd, the only sign of his Toman past his Hawaiian shirts on the wall, he doesn’t even like them now. Remind him of something that does not exist anymore and that he has buried deep and far away. It’s worse than his room in juvie, where he could pretend that the numbness came from the white walls, the iron of the bed frame. It’s worse because he knows what uniform is hiding in his closet, what pictures.
He throws away everything, but two shirts. Cannot bring himself to. His mother looks at him worried and a bit scared, like everyone else who has ever looked at him after that night, but it hurts more when it’s her and when he looks at himself in the mirror all he can see is his piece of shit father. She asks, are you sure. He is very fucking sure.
“I have grown up”, he says, scorn in his voice, and looks in the trash the day after but everything is already gone.
-
He meets him right after Keisuke picks him up from juvie.
“Heard you are strong”, Hanma Shuji says, back against the wall in a street corner, “Heard you want revenge for what was done to you”.
Kazutora wants - revenge, yes. He does not know how to name it. Does not know how to describe the feeling inside himself that is twisted and dark, that makes everything a blur, his father’s fists, Mikey’s face, saying, you are mine, Kazutora, the sound of bones breaking, handcuffs on his wrists. The feeling of being - restrained, not his own person, throwing punches and not being able to feel his own hands.
“I want to beat him up”, he hears himself say. Your pain is mine, Mikey had said, so it’s only fair that Kazutora’s pain would be Mikey’s, too, his own eyes twitching and Mikey’s eyes dark and scared like they’d never been melting into one.
Hanma grins.
“I’ll give him to you. Let’s make a pact. Toman has been around for too long. And other gangs, too. Did you know Shinichiro was with the Black Dragons?”
The name makes him flinch. Mikey’s brother was with the Black Dragons? Why is it all back to that, back to them, back to his defenseless, useless self? Back to not being able to raise his fucking fists like a man, only able to take and take and take and never give it, give it back, take it back.
“Yeah”, he says, lighting a cigarette, hands shaking, “I knew”.
-
He lets Hanma drive him home.
“I have one condition”, he tells him.
“Alright”, Hanma says, “Let’s discuss it in your room. Are your parents in?”
He snorts. He lets Hanma in, lets him laugh at his posters, his bare walls. Who the fuck cares. He could take Hanma down easily. That’s all that matters.
“Wanna smoke up?”, Hanma asks him.
They smoke on the bed, joint after joint, weed making him slow, sloppy.
“Your condition”, Hanma nudges him, grinning, eyes glinting.
“I want”, he drawls, mouth moving with difficulty, “to be with Keisuke”.
Hanma laughs, pats his head. The touch is… different from when Keisuke touches him, but also different from juvie. Just, different.
“Alright”, Hanma says, fingers trailing down Kazutora’s face, “alright. You can do that. Take care of Baji and Mikey both. In different ways. Don’t worry. You are very strong”.
There is a weird glint in his eyes, Kazutora thinks, but so there is in his own.
“I am”, he nods, head lolling back and forth, “I am”.
“Sure thing, sugar”, Hanma croons, “Just remember some blankets in this room next time, eh? You are not in juvie anymore. You are as free as a bird, baby”.
He is. Free, that is. He is fucking free to do as he fucking pleases.
-
Keisuke comes to visit his house and his room, too. He has seen it before but never since, probably got tired of letting Kazutora hump his leg in alleys he picks because they are not part of Toman territory.
“What’s up with the posters”, he pants, while Kazutora is mouthing at his neck, rubbing his crotch.
“They are hot”, he says, sneaking a hand in Keisuke’s trousers, listening to his grunts.
“Wanna hang up a picture of my dick next?”, Keisuke says, eyes squeezed shut, humping into his hand, “Fuck. You got good”.
Yeah. He got good. He shivers, blinks the thought away, grips Keisuke’s shoulders so he can rock down onto his hard cock.
“Gotta send me a picture first”, he drawls, making his voice teasing, trying not to make it whine, trying not to think, I have thrown all the other pictures away, not to say, I am scared you are going to leave, not to beg, I want you here and also in print, I want you in every way I can get you, please stay, please don’t go, please, please please -
He comes in his underwear, trembling, feeling disgusting, Keisuke’s laugh in his ears as he says, “You have enough magazines”, and then as he moans loudly when Kazutora twists his wrist just so, in the right way, thumbing at his cockhead, to make him come but also make him stop laughing, yeah, so what, he has his magazines, one of the first things he stole after getting out, what would Keisuke know anyway of the pleasure of finally masturbating behind a locked door, in peace, of being allowed to be loud for the first time since forever, his mum always out for work, no one around to call him a fucking bitch boy -
“Gotta lend them to me sometimes”, Keisuke winks at him, after, kissing his jaw.
“Yeah?”, he asks, breathless, feeling stupid and weak but a bit proud, a bit happy, Keisuke’s body warm under his.
“Yeah”, Keisuke nods, still grinning, teeth glinting, “And then maybe I’ll send you pictures. I have some already”.
Kazutora blinks, stomach dropping.
“Slut”, he snarls, but Keisuke just laughs.
-
The pictures never come. He doesn’t want them, anyway. Every time he sees Keisuke he makes sure to mark him, take him deeper, make him suck, swallow and be swallowed - wants to crawl inside him, never let go, wants to tattoo himself on his body. I am with you until the end. Fucking right.
“Y’know, I am not sure he is that committed”, Hanma tells him one day, smoking in an alley, voice deep. “He is always hanging out with that little vice-captain of his”.
Kazutora and Keisuke used to be the attack group. Together. He doesn’t give a shit about co-captains - crawling lower, not as powerful, not as strong. He understands Keisuke better than anyone else. Has seen the sparks in his eyes when flames were going up, eating cars and everything around them, has seen hell with him and crawled back up.
“Yeah?”, he says, feigning disinterest, “I don’t even know who he is”.
“I’ll show you”, Hanma says, grinning with too many teeth.
He lets Hanma drive him to Keisuke’s school, that he is still attending, unlike the fuck-up he is. He feels like throwing up when he sees them in the streets outside, going back home together, they even live in the same fucking building. Keisuke is smiling bigger than he ever smiled with him, why would he smile when Kazutora only makes him cry, makes him scream, reminds him of the biggest mistake of his life. And next to him, a blonde boy, stars in his eyes. They look happy, they look - normal. As normal as delinquents like them can be. Going to school, smiling on their bikes, changing from uniforms to Toman clothes in the same room, going to meetings together, Keisuke ruffling the boy’s hair. They might as well be holding hands, like little girls.
“See”, Hanma tells him, leaning back on his bike until his back is pressed to Kazutora’s chest, “They are always together. Always with Toman. You sure he is ready to choose us?”
Are you sure he is ready to choose you?
“That will be his test, then”, Kazutora says, heart thumping, “beating him up” . A common test, in juvie, to prove allegiances, to prove you wouldn’t just roll over to whoever had the biggest dick. Kazutora has forgotten how many times he had made someone spit blood on the asfalt.
Hanma laughs, loud, starts his engine again.
“You are so fucked up, Kazutora”, he shouts over his bike, “Get your man, tiger!”, he says, and then laughs again, teeth showing, head thrown back, like he has just told the funniest of jokes, like Kazutora is the funniest of them all.
-
He changes his hair, changes his room. Hanma helps him set up his curtains and laughs and says, a zoo for the tiger. He punches him in the shoulder, accepts the pills Hanma gives him as a peace offer. He likes Hanma. He is honest. Doesn’t judge, doesn’t know his past. Doesn’t know how he used to be weak and useless, small and afraid - offers him more power, instead.
“What’s all this?”, Keisuke asks when they see each other after, fingers twisting and pulling at his hair, making him keen.
He tries to shrug in Keisuke’s grip, smiles, cheeks hurting, feeling manic.
“Wanted a change. What’s it to you?”.
Wanted to stop looking in the mirror and seeing my father. Wanted to stop seeing you and thinking you’d like a blonde head sucking you off instead.
“Nothing. Looks good. Give me whatever you are having”.
He gets Keisuke high, too, and then they go riding their bikes together and the wind is slapping his face and he wishes someone would slap him instead, or that he would slap Keisuke for fucking around with someone who is not him, and then Keisuke has to go take a piss and Kazutora goes through his phone, pictures of cats and the blonde boy all over it, Matsuno Chifuyu, that’s his name, and when Keisuke comes back he drawls, jaw clenching: “You like them blonde?”
Keisuke laughs, eyes darting around, then puts a hand on his neck and says, “I like them feisty”, and his tongue is enough to stop the grinding of his jaw.
-
The thing is, when he looks in the mirror, he knows what he is seeing. And he has seen - Chifuyu. He wants to fuck up his pretty little face, the cut of his jaw, his big, blue eyes that look honest and not stupid, not deranged. Wants to break his nose and fuck him up forever so Keisuke will never look at him again, make him ugly like Kazutora is, make him bleed and never get fixed, leave him broken on a cold floor, a gush at the back of his head, blood pooling under his body.
-
When he tells Keisuke about the test he is high on whatever the fuck Hanma pushed down his throat with a beer and grinning ear to ear.
“I have to make sure”, he says, “You know, Keisuke? You know? It’s a safety measure”.
He laughs, high, strident, ugly. Keisuke is leaning on his back, brows furrowed.
“Why him?”, he has the balls of asking. Why him, he wants to say, you fucking know why.
“‘Cause Mikey is mine”, he says, instead, stumbling forward, pushes until Keisuke is almost bending backwards against his bike. “Wanna be strong. But with you”.
He grabs Keisuke’s wrist, touches the matching bell on his bracelet, making it jingle.
“You are gonna do it?”, he challenges, making himself stand firm, forcing his voice to be steady, but he knows his eyes are fucking twitching, and he is still stroking Keisuke’s wrist like a panting dog, “So?”
“Fine”, Keisuke says, shrugging, grinning, his smile so bright in the night, sharp teeth looking like they could cut Kazutora in half, snap him and bend him and shape him anew. “Gotta sorta out last Toman businesses, though. Better if we don’t see each other for a while”.
Wanna go on honeymoon with Chifuyu?, Kazutora thinks, then hears Hanma in his ear, saying, you are very strong, saying, you are free. He cannot be this pathetic anymore. Keisuke is choosing him. He is coming with him.
“Fine”, he says, “a week”.
And then kisses him hard until Keisuke is pushing back against him, spreading his legs, letting him in. One week.
-
He tells Hanma about it when they are smoking in his room. His head feels light. Some boys in juvie told him weed helped them, made them better, made them think clearer. Slowed things down. Kazutora feels like everything is spinning all the time. This is no different.
“A week, mhh?”, Hanma says, taking a drag, “What are you going to do until then? What is your dick going to do?”, he chuckles, patting his thigh.
He cannot remember if he has told Hanma about Keisuke. He doesn’t think he did. Maybe he is just that obvious - maybe he is just that easy to read, to discover, crack open. The thought unnerves him, makes him twitch away from Hanma.
“I have magazines”, he mumbles, mouth made loose by the high, “Don’t need him”.
Hanma chuckles next to him, delighted.
“Magazines! Show me, Kazutora! What do you like?”
He doesn’t know what makes him do it. Hanma makes him feel - strong, and free, and the weed makes him loose, pliant. He crawls down the bed, grabs a magazine.
“It’s just hot men”, he says, opening it, “muscles, you know”.
“Mhh, I know”, Hanma says, glint in his eyes, “muscles. You like the muscles?”
He nods, slow, eyes half-closed. Hanma shuffles closer to him on the bed, then nudges him, poking his side.
“Sit between my legs”, he says, smiling at him, “so we can both look”.
“Oh”, Kazutora says, blinking, “Okay. Sure. Roll another joint”.
Hanma nods, laughing. His legs are very long, Kazutora thinks, as he puts a hand in the space between Hanma’s legs on his bed, lifts himself up so he is sitting between them. He opens the magazine, flips the pages until he finds an image he likes - some guy in a jockstrap, abs tensing, cock big and thick. Hanma hums above him, pushes the new joint between his lips, lights it for him. Kazutora is taking a drag when he feels Hanma’s hands around his middle, bringing him flush against his chest.
“Wanted to see better”, Hanma says, next to his ear, stroking his hip bone. “I like it”.
“Mhh”, Kazutora agrees, “He is hot”.
Hanma’s hands are very hot, too, crawling under his t-shirt, caressing his stomach.
“You like that about him?”, Hanma says, lips brushing against his ear, “his muscles? I think his hair is his strongest selling point”.
The man in the picture is almost bald, hair in a buzzcut. Hanma is not talking about him, Kazutora releases, squirming against him, Hanma’s grip on his stomach getting stronger.
“N-no”, he manages, “I don’t want to talk about that”.
Hanma chuckles. “Why?”, he asks, pressing a kiss to his temple, “Don’t wanna cheat on him? You don’t think he is doing this with someone else?”
Kazutora shakes his head.
“No”, he gasps, tilting his head to the side, letting Hanma kiss and lick at his tattoo, “he wouldn’t”.
Oh, but he would. He has seen Chifuyu, has seen how they are. Has seen himself. Suddenly he is furious.
“Why are you doing this?!”, he spits out, turning in Hanma’s arms, “What the fuck do you care?”
Hanma’s eyes look genuinely surprised, like he cannot believe his ears. “Because you are hot, baby. You deserve to feel good, no? Release some tension. You don’t think?”, he noses at Kazutora’s neck, kissing his shoulder, hands trailing down. His fingers hook in the waistband of Kazutora’s pants, waiting.
“You are free, now”, Hanma says in his ear, and then Kazutora is nodding, and Hanma is sliding his pants down his hips, splaying his hands across each of Kazutora’s bare thighs, spreading them, thumbing at the insides.
He shivers at the touch, head lolling against Hanma’s chest. He is right, fuck, he is right. He has given Keisuke a week and he is probably spending it fucking Chifuyu, or getting fucked, why can’t he do the same? He is strong, he is free, he can do whatever he pleases, now. When Hanma puts it in front of his face, he takes another drag of the joint, exhales, loudly.
“There you go”, Hanma chuckles, rubbing his crotch with his hand, getting him hard, “You think they are doing this, too? Who is touching who?”
Kazutora trembles, at that. He is still holding that stupid magazine.
“Chifuyu”, he moans, “He would be doing this… to Keisuke. More, too. Suck him off”.
He lets his head roll back on Hanma’s shoulder, feels his chest shake with laughter.
“Yeah?”, Hanma questions, licking his ear, “Why him?”
“‘Cause Keisuke is so… so… so much”, he rambles, moaning as Hanma works his cock with his fingers, hooks his ankles around Kazutora’s own to spread his legs wider, “I wanna… Chifuyu would wanna… be good”.
“Ah”, Hanma says, looking down over his shoulder, “You are being good, too. You are so hard”, then, smirking, “think Chifuyu would look good on his knees?”
He whines, leaks a bit in Hanma’s hand, rocks back into Hanma’s own erection. Fuck, he is so high. The thought of Keisuke and Chifuyu together makes him - makes him want to -
“You like that? You want to come?”, Hanma whispers, stroking him harder, wetter, tracing the shell of his ear with his lips. “They are probably not thinking about you, you know”.
“N-no”, he moans, shaking his head, fucking himself into Hanma’s fist, “I don’t care, I don’t care”.
Hanma laughs softly in his ear, kisses his cheek.
“I don’t believe you”, he says, thumbing his cockslit, then gripping him harder, “But it’s fine. You have me, now. I am thinking only about you”.
“Yeah?”, he asks, close to begging, hips twitching, “Really?”
“Really”, Hanma confirms, rutting against his back, “Can’t you feel?”
He can feel. His head is swimming. He is so hard. Hanma, too. Keisuke, probably, and Chifuyu, as well, together, while he is here with Hanma, a stranger, practically, in his new room, with new hair, a new life. Free, he tells himself, desperately, free, and powerful, and strong.
“Come on, Kazutora”, Hanma says, sucking into his neck, into his tattoo, “I can feel you are almost there. Take this. For yourself. Who cares about Baji, and -”
He is shaking with it, now, chest heaving, ache intensifying. He can feel his toes curling.
“- and Chifuyu -”, Hanma continues, in his ear, breathless. Kazutora arches his back, shakes his head, he doesn’t want to think about this, he doesn’t want to, he just wants, he just wants to come, and be free.
“- fucking, without you”, Hanma finishes, and twists his hand, and makes Kazutora come, muscles taut, mind going blank.
He bucks against Hanma, chasing the last drops of his release, whining. Without him. That’s right. Behind him, Hanma is rutting against him, against his ass, using his body to find his own release, moaning into his ear.
He is still shaking when Hanma recovers, tucks him back into his pants.
“Oh, Kazutora”, he chuckles, caressing his legs, “that was good, mhh? Don’t worry, we’ll get Baji, soon”.
He doesn’t have the strength to argue. His mind is blank, now, only Keisuke and Chifuyu together, without him, happy, smiling, and then him, dark and ugly and disgusting.
“Yeah”, he says, voice rough, pushing his pants back on, “Soon”.