Chapter Text
It was no secret how Takemichi ended up as such a fortunate, successful, small business associate.
It took years of dedication.
Determination.
To erase his history and turmoil as much as possible and start anew.
To throw the old “crybaby” Takemichi down the drain and replace him with a Takemichi that’s grown accustomed to the feeling of nothing. A numb cadaver that found happiness through addiction of overworking his mind and body— anything to forget his past, anything to forget his heartaches, and absolutely anything to forget the traumatic experiences that have left him forever bruised and broken.
He’d grown up with parents that clearly didn’t give a shit about him, thus he was bound to get involved with the wrong type of people— the wrong crowd. Constantly bullied for his association with the title “cry baby”.
He never had the emotional support system that all his other childhood friends had, so to him, his erratic cries of frustration, anger, emptiness and heartbreak, happiness and excitement were all considered relatively normal in his ‘book of emotions’.
It wasn’t until he turned fifteen that he realized just how swiftly his emotions would be ripped away from him. How such a normal human reaction would suddenly be his very own demise. After his childhood life took a turn for the worst, his emotions began plaguing him with never ending negativity and disdain. He’d lost too much, too fast, to ever feel the same emotions that once bubbled out of him like an automatic soap dispenser. The intensity of human passion, the response and feeling was now long gone, severed to destroy any sensation that made him the very word; human.
In it’s replacement? Numbness. Nothingness.
A mourn for the person he used to be versus the person he had become. It was his only chance of survival— to act as if nothing was ever truly hurting him. That the murder of his first girlfriend didn’t assault his precious mind like a broken record player every second of every minute. That if he wasn’t such a child or such a crybaby, he could have saved her in time. He could have saved Tachibana Hinata, his first girlfriend, the girl who turned his unhappy life upside down.
Until he lost everything to him.
Because of him.
With no power or authority to bring him down the way he’d thrown Takemichi down into a puddle of pure agony and hatred for every breath his lungs continued to extract.
Takemichi was an empty-shelled carcass only living to work under conditions that left him overworked and exhausted. Anything to keep him from ever falling into a deep sleep, far, far away from his darkened dreams. Desperate to evade the memories that played excessively, begging him to relive his worst memories.
After he left his childhood home, his childhood friends and peers, he looked to make a name for himself elsewhere. He looked to forget the sinister thoughts and past souvenirs that shamelessly attempted to drag him back down into the tsunami of his own pain and loss. Instead, he put in unhealthy years of effort to fill them with new passions and excitements that shot off his career from the ripe age of seventeen.
Now, as a twenty-six year old man, Hanagaki Takemichi was one of the most respected baristas in all of Tokyo. Moving from restaurant to restaurant, opening low end coffee shops to the highest level, bartending positions that incorporated espresso substances and caffeine overdrives. Takemichi had finally established a sense of peace. Happiness that became easier to hoax. His own personal successes without the need of anyone else to get him there.
He kept his emotions locked deep inside his heart—
the key far from any chance of ever being found again.
Currently, he manages a small hole in the wall coffee shop that operates twenty four hours a day. The business was successful and no matter the time of day or night, money would continue to be made and Takemichi would thrive on no sleep.
It was a usual overnight shift for Takemichi when his entire world flipped upside down for the second time, in a blink of an eye.
Overnights were relatively slow shifts, Takemichi wasted most of his time making a plethora of different flavored Taiyaki, one of the café’s signature staples when paired with a hot espresso beverage. The original red bean paste buns were obviously the most popular choice but matcha, taro, lychee and coconut were definitely close seconds in terms of fan favorites. It was already three in the morning, their usual ghost hour, when he heard the chime of the door, informing both the front cashier and Takemichi of a customer.
He was quick to wash his hands in the back room before making an entrance to the front of the establishment. It took one mere little glance for Takemichi to stop dead in his tracks. Memories flooded his mind, recollection of childhood faces he hadn’t seen in over ten years. He felt stunned. Frozen.
‘Move your fucking feet, Takemichi. It’s not like they’ll recognize you.’
He forced himself to listen to that voice in the back of his mind, moving his feet forward and offering a smile to the two men who stood on the opposite side of the counter. Tanaka was in the process of taking their caffeinated orders, leaving Takemichi to glance over his coworkers shoulder attempting to make the beverages before they were even sent out.
“Must be our lucky day, Michi, we never have customers at this time.” Tanaka offered with a grin, cashing out the customers and sending the order over to the barista’s work screen.
Takemichi let out a small laugh, “Bet they’ll be the last customers we see till our shifts are over.” He took note of the orders, one being a dry cappuccino and the other a double macchiato. He held his breath as he turned to face the man who ordered the cappuccino. “How dry would you like this?”
“Hah?” The man with the blonde braid asked in response, “I’ve never been asked that before. Is there a standard dry?”
Takemichi replied with a faint smile, “Technically yes, I guess I should ask if you prefer either an airy or a more milky foam?”
“Holy shit, someone who finally put my thoughts into words! Airy would be great, thanks man.”
Takemichi nodded, resuming his task at hand. He could feel eyes on him. Eyes that had never laid on him before, but held a face that Takemichi used to watch often. He bit his bottom lip in forced concentration on the drinks, rather than the pair of eyes that seemingly drunk him in.
He handed off one drink then the next, just as the bell chimed again. Takemichi was in the middle of rinsing his pitcher when he heard the third man speak, “Sorry for the wait, it took forever to find parking.”
“All good, Atsushi. Did ya’ want anything?”
Atsushi.
Why did that sound so familiar?
Takemichi was in the middle of drying off his steam wand when he noted the sudden pause in atmosphere, the silence that ensued rather than a response to the man’s question.
“Holy fucking shit, Takemichi!?”
Takemichi turned to face the man to his side and as scary as it was to relive his name off a tongue he hadn’t heard in years, the lips it came from gave a new rush to his chest, a loud ringing in his ears. He took in his colored pompadour, the look of shock yet so much love buried deep within those violet orbs.
“Akkun?” Takemichi all but shouted, quicker on his feet than he’d ever been. His arms wrapped wide around Akkun’s shoulders holding him steady as if he was experiencing a dream, terrified the man would disappear into thin air.
Tighter force encircled his torso squeezing him so tight it was proof that this was all far from a dream. They pulled back with large, sparkling grins that practically engulfed their faces. Akkun’s hands fell on either side of Takemichi’s cheeks, holding him there as they eyed their changes created from puberty. “Takemichi, you look so—“ He paused before pulling him back into another squeezing hug, “God, I’ve missed you. It’s been way too fucking long.”
They squeezed and held each other as if their life depended on it, finally separating for air that they’d managed to discard in their warming reunion.
“Where the fuck have you been?”
Takemichi shrugged sheepishly, a smile he hadn’t felt in years refusing to leave his lips, “Kinda everywhere? Business has been really good lately. What about you?”
“Honestly? The same just higher up in ranks, y’know.” Akkun admitted softly, “Michi, you look so good, you’re almost unrecognizable. I…” He paused a moment, “I’ve missed you so fucking much, Michi.”
Those emotions that swore to never rise to physical form so many years ago threatened to spill at any moment as he stared at his childhood best friend. “I’ve missed you, I thought about reaching out but,” he scratched the back of his head, “it’s been so long, you know? I thought it’d be weird.”
“Huh? How would it be weird? Do you know how many years I’ve spent looking for you?” Akkun asked incredulously, his eyes wide with a painful yearn.
Much to Takemichi’s appreciative surprise, their reunion was interrupted by a throat clearing behind them. Takemichi turned to find the two staring at him— just him with sheer curiosity, confusion, interest.
“Uh, Atsushi? Are you going to introduce us to your friend or are you going to make us ask?”
“Shit, sorry!” Akkun apologized before wrapping his arm loosely around Takemichi’s shoulder, their smiles unmatched. “This is Hanagaki Takemichi, my childhood best friend. I haven’t seen him in over….ten years? I’m still trying to figure out why he ever left.” He spoke the last sentence with direct attention towards Takemichi before he continued, “And Takemichi, this is Ryuguji Ken and Sano Manjiro.”
Takemichi knew them already.
All too well.
Takemichi bowed his head slightly, offering a curt smile.
“Hah? The hell you using my full name for? Call me Draken,” Draken spoke, extending a hand which Takemichi returned firmly. He couldn’t help but glance towards Manjiro, not surprised to see him still staring back at him with noteworthy perplexity.
“It’s rare to meet someone we don’t know who grew up where we did,” Draken spoke, “Somehow after hearing your name, your face looks a little familiar. What middle school did you go to?”
“Mizo Middle School, the same as Akkun.” Takemichi answered honestly, it’d be very surprising to be recognized with how much he’s changed his appearance to forget everything he used to be.
Draken still watched him with tight-lipped curiosity, but right as Takemichi was sure he was about to give it up, he watched the light in his eyes brighten. “Wait, ain’t you used to have blonde hair? I’m talking, really yellow always gelled up?”
Takemichi felt the ground spinning beneath him, suddenly thankful for Akkun’s arm still strung around him. “Uh huh,” Takemichi offered before Akkun spoke, “I doubt you know him, Draken, he was never involved with Toman back then.”
“Shut up, I’m thinking,” Draken ordered, though his tone was far from anger and closer to realization.
Then.
“It was you.”
Takemichi decided staring back was the only right answer.
“What’s going on?” The shorter man beside him asked, looking back and forth between Takemichi and Draken.
“He’s the one who saved my life, the battle of August Third.”
“Huh?” Akkun shouted in surprise, looking back and forth between the two bodies. “No, you definitely have the wrong guy.”
Draken seemingly ignored Akkun’s response, his eyes glowing in certainty.
“It’s been awhile, Draken-san, glad to see you’re still on your feet.” Takemichi finally spoke, a small smile pierced at the corner of his lips.
“Holy fuck!” Draken shouted, “I knew it was you! What the fuck? Do you know how many years I spent thinking I made you up? That you were some kinda guardian angel?”
“Ken-chin, explain, right now.” Not even a question, just a direct order.
“Hah? Mikey, I’ve told you, some obnoxiously yellow haired guy took me away from the fight and called an ambulance. He rode with me all the way to the operations room and after that, I never saw him again.”
Takemichi watched as Mikey stared at Draken, listening to his words with intent before his head turned and their eyes locked. “That was you?”
“In the flesh.” Takemichi replied steadily, though now that he’d finally managed eye contact with Mikey it was almost impossible to look away.
“In the flesh.” Takemichi replied steadily, though now that he’d finally managed eye contact with Mikey it was almost impossible to look away.
“Takemichi, what the fuck? You never even told me that!” Akkun yelled from his side, confusion clouding his judgment.
Takemichi shrugged in response, “I was just glad he was alright, not much to tell when you all were already in the waiting room.”
The atmosphere seemed to shift dramatically after that. Draken smiled like the sun, Akkun was still trying to put two and two together, and Mikey—
Mikey.
The way his eyes shone was almost unreadable but Takemichi found himself entranced, yearning for Mikey to stare more— stare longer.
“Any chance you can take a break, Takemichi? We should catch up.”
They all sat at a table in the corner of the cafe, Draken and Akkun keeping most of the conversation alive. Mikey seemed relatively disinterested, though his attention piqued anytime Takemichi answered a question or mentioned a memory from the past. It took everything in Takemichi not to bolt up and out of the café, desperate to escape the confines of his past daring to suck him back through cruel tactics of friendship and serenity.
“You know, Takemichi, we’re actually looking to employ a full time barista at our headquarters, specifically for the members.” Akkun looked from Takemichi to Draken and Mikey, then back. “If you’re interested….” he left the question open-ended.
Fuck.
A reaction would get him absolutely nowhere at this point, everyone was paying too much attention to him.
“Huh, really? What kinda hours are you looking to give out?”
“We—“ Akkun started but Mikey was quick to speak up.
“Whatever you want.”
“Whatever I want?”
“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”
Takemichi hummed as he leaned back against his chair, “And what’s in it for you, Manjiro-san?”
“Drop the honorifics when speaking with me.” Mikey replied directly.
“Okay, and what’s in it for you, Manjiro?” Takemichi watched as interest sparked within his hollowed eyes, trying his best to read him inside and out.
“Just, Mikey.” He shot back, still avoiding the question.
A sly smile tainted Takemichi’s lips as he hovered over the table, leaving just a few inches of distance between them, “What is in it for you, just Mikey?” he asked, slow and sweet, dedicated to facial reaction— human emotion from someone who clearly lacked as much feeling as he.
The tension around them had easily morphed into something thick, something overflowing with impulse, crave— desire. Takemichi felt entranced as he devoured Mikey’s reaction. The way his eyebrow twitched as it furrowed, the way his eyes practically lured him in closer, the slow curl of his lip; so vague Takemichi nearly missed it. He glanced at Akkun who stared at the two like he’d just witnessed a ghost; and Draken who looked mildly curious but more so— apathetic.
“You already have experience in this field, Takemitchy, it’s the obvious decision for you to work for us instead.”
Takemitchy.
He couldn’t stop the flutter in his heart.
Takemichi licked his lips as he settled back into his chair, resting his cheek on his hand, “Hm, true.” He agreed shortly, “I have one condition.”
When Mikey just stared back in response, waiting, Takemichi continued, “I’ll work for you as your personal barista if I can still work my shifts here.”
“No. You’ll be reimbursed more than you ever would here.”
“It’s not about the money to me, just Mikey. Everything I’ve worked for was put into this shop, the experience I have with this place is what matters to me.”
Silence stole the air from the building, the air from Takemichi’s lungs as he watched Mikey seemingly ponder his request. His stare was intense yet lacked any sense of real emotion, nothing Takemichi could actually pinpoint or give name to. He watched Akkun shift uncomfortably in his seat while Draken found interest in the fan overhead doing wonders to kiss goosebumps on his own skin.
“Fine, but your hours here will be severely reduced. You will work for us eight to four Monday through Friday and I’ll only allow you to work two shifts a week here.”
Two shifts?
He couldn’t avoid sleep only working two overnight shifts a week? Mornings didn’t matter, afternoons, evenings— he could care less about his schedule. But what about nights? When his fears and memories haunted him into seizing night terrors? Anguish? He needed overnights to survive, to escape the demons that lurked behind his eyelids.
At this point, Takemichi’s “breakdown” meter was about twenty percent away from losing his grip on reality.
“Make it three and I’ll shake on it.” Takemichi delivered with confidence, his voice refusing to waver in any sort of uncertainty.
Mikey was silent, Draken hid his bashful smile behind his cup, meanwhile Akkun beamed partly with pride, partly with astonishment.
“Fine.” He finally responded before the two clasped hands. Takemichi was not at all surprised to feel Mikey’s body temperature, seemingly matching his. Cold to the touch and lacking any sort of warmth. Their eye contact dropped about as quick as their hands fell back to their own laps.
“Hell yes, Takemichi!” Akkun shouted in excitement, clearly happy to be even more personally reconnected with his childhood bestie. Takemichi directed his attention towards Akkun, a smile gracing his face, “Who woulda thought?”
After a few minutes of brief conversation, the three announced their departure. Takemichi was a little relieved to see them go, although all the endorphins and dopamine in his brain practically begged them to stay.
“I’ll pick you up Sunday at seven, have your apartment cleared out by then,” were the last words that left Mikey’s lips before he disappeared into the night. Akkun and Draken followed suit, not before offering him wide set smirks and a wave of their hands.
How the hell had Takemichi ended up in a situation like this? His agreement was ridiculously stupid— he’d spent eleven years escaping Toman, eleven years forgetting who he used to be and relentlessly unlearning past habits. He’d spent so much time, effort, and resources to bloom into something new, something not wilted and destroyed on the outside; despite how destroyed he was internally. All to end up right back where he started, wrapped back into Toman— to work under the Tokyo Manji gang, of all employers.
For fuck’s sake.
Needless to say, Takemichi barely slept a wink. Anxiety managed to keep his eyes wide and his heart accelerated all the way to Sunday morning.